Amused to Life

Micah Dalton – Blue Frontier

noreply@blogger.com (Reese) — Sat, 02 Jun 2012 02:32:00 +0000

“Always put the time in to get the vibe you want. Always.”

Such was a recent Facebook post from Micah Dalton, and if my thoughts on his recent release, Blue Frontier, could be summed so succinctly, that would be it. But then I’d be left without more to say.

Each song on this CD has the feel of being pored over, and he’s had enough time to do just that. Perhaps it’s the input of working with... a quick count says 13... co-writers. Perhaps its the four years since his last full release, Pawnshop. And, perhaps, it’s the challenge of moving beyond the cleverly constructed concepts of that CD to “whatever comes next.”

The recent concert I attended upon the release of this CD could be summed as “catchy and pleasing.” Now with the benefit of many listens, that easily applies to the CD. In fact, tracks 1-10 are probably as consistently good songs as anyone could find on a single CD. Whether its Silk Degrees, Rumours, or (pick your own 70’s favorite), there’s consistent quality across this work that only lacks radio familiarity. In the days when radio stations allowed DJs a measure of freedom and ample opportunities for album “deep cuts,” Blue Frontier could have been a “go to” album. It’s that good. And as almost every song measures 3 minutes – something, it could fit about any programming need.

But that was then, and this is now. And “now” would benefit greatly from songs like these on the air.

Dalton reportedly describes his music as alt.soul. There’s certainly a soulful element, both in the music and his voice, but despite elements from here and there, it’s easier to point to Dalton’s abundant song writing abilities. Structurally, the transitions from verses to refrain are seamless, and the surprises thrown in (perfect changes of pace, a casual clarinet, a wicked slide guitar) brings each song into its own... Pored over.

Lyrically, Dalton isn’t afraid of awkward phrasing (“Another Discovery” as a refrain), more advanced diction than one might expect in fairly breezy tunes, and, most importantly, a positive, hopeful approach to any subject. Commitment in a relationship means something to Dalton, whether in good times or bad.

Foibles? If the vibe of each song is measured perfectly, the vibe for the collection drops off with “Eyes to See, Ears to Hear.” It’s a good song. But it has the sound of a technical challenge to write something out of his comfort zone, and it happens to not mesh with what comes before. Additionally, Dalton’s falsettos are valued nuances in many of his songs, but they don’t carry major sections as well.

Also, the sonics of the album narrow a bit to what I can only describe as “compressed.” To my ears, the brass doesn’t sound freely, and the bass lacks a deep low end.

Again, foibles. This is a great CD, and worthy of a large audience.

Suggested Tracks: “High and Low,” “The Way Our Seasons Change,” “Bad Blood,” “More Than the Magic”

The Infamous Stringdusters – Live in Atlanta

noreply@blogger.com (Reese) — Tue, 22 May 2012 01:44:00 +0000

The ticket said 8:00. I was there shortly after 7:00. I’ve been to many music venues in Atlanta, but never to the Masquerade. Doors usually open an hour before the announced time... but hey, just because I was half-exhausted from the day’s Warrior Dash didn’t mean I lacked enough energy to explore around the place, even if I couldn’t go inside.

At first glance, or second, The Masquerade doesn’t look like a likely music venue. It looks like a worn out industrial site. Which is exactly what it is, with parts believed to date back to the 1890’s when it was an excelsior manufacturer. If you’re curious, you’ll click.

There’s a few industrial oddities lying about that I suppose were either deemed ornamental or too expensive to remove.

Adjacent is the abutment for a bridge. They just don’t make them like this anymore.

It’s an old area. And what’s better in an old area than... Graffiti!

What a nice thought. And this brought to you by...

Surely, 99% will agree that 1+1=2.

But not everything points towards decay. The Masquerade is located in Atlanta’s Historic Fourth Ward, home to (drumroll...) the Historic Fourth Ward Park. I know this because there were people beginning to gather in the park for an outdoor movie with “bring canned food” admission. And I asked. My attention was drawn that direction by a guy playing acoustic guitar, and I did go to hear music...

Whatever this area may have looked like before, it’s cleaning up nicely.

Wait, this is a concert review. So, ears open after wandering through the park, I head back to the venue drawn by the sound of a not-so-melodious trumpet.

The Masquerade has three indoor stages, Heaven, Purgatory, and Hell. I was (pre?)destined to Hell. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t check out Purgatory... a pretty awesome place, with more old things just “et up with atmosphere” as the saying goes in these parts.

And it has groovy old things in high places that speak of noise, sweat and lost fingers.

Perfect for a concert, I say. But there was no show that night. I didn’t get to check out Heaven as St. Peter’s gate was closed. But, no worries, admission to Hell was paid. That’s $15 to hear a band that I hadn’t heard of before, with friends who threw an invitation to a venue that I’ve been wanting to check out. Heck, I’ve got $15 value of exploration and photos, and I haven’t gotten to the concert.

First impression of Hell is that it’s not hot. At all. The room is more of a tomb, with various sizes of old stone making up the walls. The bar? A fine sight, brightly colored with hellish red and yellow.

The stage? Not so brightly covered, at least for opening acts, but certainly with suitable lighting for the small area.

You might note that... there’s no one there. Well, we were, on stools to the side in an elevated platform, and others were in seats directly to the sides of the stage – hardly good sightlines, but seats are seats.

The opening act was James Justin & Co. Another band of whom I hadn’t heard, not that it’s surprising. JJ & Co. are as their instruments might suggest... Americana, acoustic sounds that date well before George Beauchamp graced us with the first electric guitar. The Good News: acoustics in Hell are just fine.

The band played a pretty lengthy set, the best of which, “Dark Country,” is said to have made the Americana Top 40, wherever and by whatever means such things are calculated. But, it’s a fine song, with suitably dark tones and bass thumping low end. Actually, all of their songs were pretty good, and I enjoyed them quite a bit. They get extra credit for keeping their energy high while playing to a seemingly empty room, and for being from South Carolina.

The below was an intermission photograph (not staged), not an end of the evening commentary.

With a capacity of possibly 400, I’d guess perhaps 200 would eventually show up for the headline act. These would mostly be 20-somethings drawn by the low ticket prices, PBRs, and a desire to dance to what turned out to be an Americana jam band.

Cue the dry ice machine, and the band would shortly be underway.

Infamous... let’s see. Dictionary.com says “disreputable, ill-famed, notorious” or “disgraceful, scandalous, nefarious, odious, wicked, shocking, vile, base, heinous, villainous.” Right, then. They belong in Hell.

Only, the band isn’t infamous in that sense. They were high energy, talented musicians who greatly enjoy performing on stage. If the reader saw “Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?”, they’re basically the Soggy Bottom Boys, with infectious stage presence but playing songs without the benefit of clear melodic hooks. As each seemed within a breadth of the same beat, the songs all began to sound the same, despite three lead singers and ample soloing space for each musician.

But! That seemed to be what the fans wanted, a chance to drink, cavort, and otherwise hang out. They were perfect for that. And the price was right.

The acoustic version is far better.

Warrior Dash Georgia - 2012

noreply@blogger.com (Reese) — Sun, 20 May 2012 23:25:00 +0000

After the USMC Mud Run, I was looking for something else “for fun,” but closer to home. Already being aware of the Warrior Dash, it seemed obvious to me that my kids should do this too. Water, mud, other obstacles, 3.2 miles... They weren’t exactly enthusiastic, but as at the time it was months away, they both said “Yes.”

Fast forward a bit, life is busy – son is graduating HS next week, daughter is leaving for her summer job the day following, wife is busy producing art for her show the following weekend... Not the most convenient time to drive to the NE corner of Georgia. And then there’s the worry that traumatic injuries will result in my son not being able to walk across the stage for his diploma, or that might daughter might miss her summer research job due to head wounds or whatever. But, we did it.

The instructions said to park at the Clayton City Hall. I don’t know that I saw the CCH proper, and that’s because it was attached to or on the same site as an abandoned elementary school. Paying $10 for parking, it felt more like a charitable occasion for the City to improve its facilities. Oddly, the pedestrian route from the parking area to the buses took us through the building, which seems a favorite of rock throwing vandals.

As we were walking to the bus, we saw a guy walking back barefoot with a homemade splint on his ankle. My wife asks, “Don’t they have a First Aid station?” Great...

For those that venture this way again, there are parking spots directly across the Warrior Dash venue, but all in all, the bus ride each way was simple and efficient, though it probably took a little longer.

It’s a short walk to the Registration area, and the current wave of Warriors may pass you by. Mountain City, GA is not too far from where the river scenes of Deliverance was filmed many years ago. The below is likely a tired gag for the area... but I like it.

Either in the parking lot, on the bus, or on the walk to the event area, you notice a lot of people bring some humor to the event. Whether it’s good humor depends on your opinion.

Some costumes, however, are just completely wrong. You’ll be crawling, climbing, running, sliding... and it’s worth a moment of reflection on how one presents themselves.

Here’s me and my kids.

Not imaginative, but presentable. My wife noted that next time, should there be one, we must wear conspicuous colors so she can spot us in the crowd. Fair enough, but I’m not wearing pink.

Here’s someone who slept through his reflective moment.

Ew, as if the sand friction on the knees and barbed wire above your head isn’t enough... eyes on the ground, lady. It’s safer. You’d think with Superheroes around, wrestler wannabes would be smacked from the ring.

These young ladies are having a blast... at least while the cameras are looking.

The observant reader might note that, “Gee, for a race, there’s a lot of people standing around in the background.” Great point! If you want to excel at the timing of this event, you need to be at the front of the queue line for your wave. Otherwise, it bottlenecks at most of the challenges. The sand/barbed wire is the second obstacle, after perhaps a 1/2 mile jog (not enough room to sprint in a pack) and a walk/swim through a large pond. The pond is fairly deep, but hardly a challenge. It does, however, ensure that you’ll enjoy the remainder of the course with sand in your shoes, and wets you nicely for the sand blasting, eh, sand crawling to come.

Obstacles that followed were a series of going under barbed wire and then over 3’ walls, climbing onto and walking on a floating but wobbly water bridge, climbing and descending a net wall, crossing a net bridge, passing through a bunch of tires lying on the ground, and over or through junked cars and more tires. Somewhere in there is running on a mountain trail that appeared intentionally muddied. All in all, those were easy.

The obstacles can provide a mental barrier. How often do I climb up vertical walls using rope? Never. Can I? Dunno. But my kids just did it, so I’d better get moving. You just do it.

A bit later was another vertical wall which I thought was the hardest. It had blocks protruding, at about the distance that the boards above are spaced, but they were staggered. To reach the final block, it takes someone with either long legs or great flexibility to gain a hold. My daughter offered to help, but I was determined to make it on my own, just as she was earlier when I had offered to help give her a lift over a barrier. Competitive little brat.

The best “obstacle” was the Petrifying Plunge. This is basically a water slide without mats. I charged head first, sliding quite a distance to the bottom landing in a pool of muck and straw. Awesomeness.

Soon afterward comes the Warrior Roast, two rows of fires which you jump and which are pictured earlier in this post. These are the signature event for the Dash, and I expect an email any time now offering to sell me my personal leap photo for whatever price. And I’m looking forward to that.

After that is one final adventure under the barbed wire, provided to ensure everyone gets muddy before crossing the finish line. I see some happy kid faces below.

You might wonder about shoes that are abused in this type of event. Mine have survived this, the Mud Run, and the Color Run... and I’ll use them again.

Many, however, choose to donate them.

After a “bath” in the pond and a change of clothes in not-so-private-but-gender-segregated changing tents, we cleaned up enough to go from this:

To this:

We had other things to do, so we didn’t hang around for the festivities (beer, music, food, beer), but if I did it again, I’d hang around for beer, more photographs of participants, and beer.

By the way, we all survived with only minor scratches, primarily from crawling through the sand.

Hmm, I wonder what adventure is next?

Click to Make Music

noreply@blogger.com (Reese) — Tue, 15 May 2012 23:25:00 +0000

The Sound Matrix. Press SPACE key to clear. If you don’t hear anything, your sound is on, right?

The Musical Box – Live at Variety Playhouse

noreply@blogger.com (Reese) — Tue, 08 May 2012 02:52:00 +0000

I don’t know that I particularly enjoy “cover bands.” I recently saw Dark Star Orchestra recreate an entire concert set-list from the Grateful Dead. It seemed well done, but the “cover” aspect didn’t affect me because I was never a Dead fan. I didn’t know the songs and, thus, had no expectations with which to compare. It was a fun show.

But there are ample others out there – covering The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, and Genesis – all of whom are bands whose music I followed quite closely. The Musical Box is a Genesis cover band, and not of the saccharine Genesis that cashed in for the pop charts in the 1980’s, but the progressive rock version that lasted until the latter 1970’s.

That was (largely) the era with Peter Gabriel as the vocalist, and Phil Collins as a drummer. Oh, and a great keyboardist and a great guitarist and a solid guitarist/bassist. Their music was highly inventive, musically adventurous, somewhat pretentious, lyrically ridiculous, and, often, downright gorgeous. It was, you might guess, also unfriendly to radio even in the days when radio had a breadth of rock content.

The Musical Box is a French Canadian band that began in 1993, from the start built to cover Genesis’ 1973 album Selling England by the Pound for the 20th anniversary. Over time, the band covered other albums, including what many perceive as their high point, a concept album titled The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway. This album features Genesis at a very musically mature point. It’s also one of the wordiest “concept” albums around, and Peter Gabriel, who wrote most of the lyrics, left the band after their tour was complete.

Genesis and Peter Gabriel, no longer the same thing, have helped this band along. They were furnished over 1200 slides from the original Lamb tour, and they’ve watched every bit of available footage regarding stage design and Gabriel’s theatric presentation. In short, to see the show is not just to hear Genesis’ music, but it’s to approximate a live concert experience circa 1974, but hopefully without the technical glitches that seemed to trip the band from show to show. Original Genesis members have even attended The Musical Box’s shows, with Phil Collins commenting “they played it better than we did.”

$40, bought in advance, after reasonable fees. That’s quite a bit for a cover band. But, within the progressive rock genre, they have great appeal for me. And it’s not like the band is touring (and if they did, they wouldn’t play the songs I’d want to hear). And it was at Variety Playhouse, my favorite venue. And, I like going to concerts. So I went, with my concert buddy who was similarly susceptible.

I’m getting older at 47 years. But, dang, I like it when I’m the youth movement at a show. All the other fans were seated, no screaming, no shout outs, no standing even... just middle aged absorption of great music from decades ago. And how about that concert volume? From the balcony, it was like listening to a stereo, clear with only a hint of echo. Pretty good. It could have been a little louder, even.

The band members themselves are committed to their roles. Hair styles of each of the original band members were distinctively familiar, even down to singer Denis’ Gagne’s shaved spot on the top of his head as Gabriel had at that time.

I’ve seen Peter Gabriel three times in concert: 1982, 1992, and 2002. He owns the stage, with carefully staged productions, occasional costumes, elaborate props on occasion, and exacting timing. Watching Gagne’s performance gives hints as to where it all began, amongst a band as still as pillars that Gabriel could crawl, run, dance, and otherwise cavort amongst. It was enjoyable, but... it was 1974, and performance was art. Artists doing this today would suffer from critics, just as Genesis did back then - amusing, and a great throwback.

Helping that along were the fantastic three panel slides from the original shows, entertaining in that they often provided some visual interpretations of the songs, but also in that the show did not require lasers, plasma screens, and flash pots to supplement live music... Even Variety’s phenomenal lighting was restrained from coloring the stage to vividly.

The band sounded good – not perfect – but I don’t expect the original band would have either. But, it was definitely good. The album had a strong melodic and rock edge to the first disk, and the second disk lost a step with music that was forced to play into whatever the meaning of the lyrics might be. The band worked through all that, but if it did anything, it made their closing songs “The Musical Box” and “Watcher of the Skies” all the more confident and enjoyable.

And as for the meaning of Lamb, despite the faux-Gabriel’s recitations of story segments, I still don’t get it. And I don’t care. It’s great music.

Note: These fond memories are (not) sponsored by The Porter Bar, a fine nearby pub to taste a diverse selection of brews and a mighty fine cheeseburger before the show. Top notch.

The Avengers (2012)

noreply@blogger.com (Reese) — Sun, 06 May 2012 16:45:00 +0000

Sure, I’ve been looking forward to The Avengers ever since Iron Man, which suggested this eventuality. There was much invested (~$250M), much advertising, and high expectations. It’s now been delivered to audiences, and Writer/Director Joss Whedon (Buffy the Vampire Slayer) deserves a lot of credit.

The pace is terrific. With so many characters to contend with, it’s hard to spend more than two minutes in a given scene.
The key Avengers (Iron Man, Thor, Hulk, Capt. America) play to their characters’ strengths, whether viewed solely from their solo movies or from comicdom. Even better, Bruce Banner, played by Mark Ruffalo, is actually a likeable character who avoids the “poor pitiful me” portrayals of past versions, both TV and movie.
Whedon’s characteristic wit is on display, and in perfect harmony with the characters. The pokes and prods during the “slow” scenes are the real “punch” of the movie.
Special effects are awesome. Ever since the first Spiderman movie, it’s been apparent that movies can adequately convey what kids imagined from still scenes in the comics. CGI changed the game, and ample Transformers type indulgences prevail here. One notable improvement is the best rendition of the Hulk to date. Also, I’d like to watch this again just to pay more attention to which historic buildings, and the details of same, get trashed. Sorry, NYC. Intergalactic war is not a covered peril on your insurance policies.
This has the best “boss” scene to date in any of superhero movies, which tend toward silly inevitabilities. The ending fight sequences are deservedly long and fairly intimidating, even if many of the bad guys tend to cling to building walls and set themselves up as bowling pins.

That’s a lot of great things, especially considering there is no plot. And how could there be a plot? Even the “origins” movies don’t have plots, per se. Introduce ordinary guy, transition by some means to gain special powers, and toss in a morality factor to keep the character human, all the while developing a super villain in some form for a final showdown. Don’t blame them for not having plots... it’s just the way it has to be.

The Avengers’ storyline, then, is also necessarily 1-2-3. Introduce a threat of mass destruction that would call for more than one superhero, follow the trails to wherever our Avengers are lying about, fashion them into a team, and beat the bad guy(s). Whedon got the characters and dialogue right, and 2 hours 23 minutes should allow that. The real test will be Avengers 2, when much more creativity will be needed to to fill the space between the bad guy’s introduction and his ultimate subdual. I’d guess we’ll add an Avenger or two to fill some space.

There’s also a problem with the lesser Avengers. Black Widow, who had a minor role in Iron Man 2, is unnecessary. Attractive? Yes. Necessary? No. Hawkeye, who appeared for a few seconds in Thor, is basically wasted as we never really come to know the character. Sure, the extra two bodies help against an invading horde, but there’s not much to them. (Humorous Hawkeye observations HERE, poor form obvious even to me during the movie).

And that brings me to football. Yes, football. Captain America might be a minor Avenger. Symbolic, sure. Straight arrow, no non-sense, leadership virtues... it’s probably good to have someone like that on a team. Is he the QB? No. Robert Downey (more so than Tony Stark or Iron Man) has that role. Whedon does a fairly clever job of trying to build up the Capt. America brand by pointing towards his legacy from WWII... because his character isn’t relevant beyond a “gifted man on the street” perspective. Otherwise, his claim to greatness is that that he doesn’t get pulverized by more powerful beings. A fine shield you have there, Cap.

It’s interesting how screen shots for superhero movies typically involve a heroic pose or an action snapshot beating up on a bad guy. It’s hard to find a picture of the hero taking a similar hit that propels him through multiple walls. Watch Iron Man. Happens all the time. As the lawsuits mount for concussive hits in the NFL, I can’t help but wonder how any hero (aside from Superman) takes the hits that they do. Capt. America would require 30 minutes of healing time after each punch, I would think. Iron Man’s suit.. sure, it protects the flesh, but not the force of a sudden inertial reverse or smashing through steel members. Hulk? Hmm. He doesn’t seem to feel anything. I guess he gets a pass. Thor? Well, the bust out loud scene in the movie was Loki vs. Hulk, and Loki survived. So I guess Thor should get a pass too. Never mind.

Great artistic triumph? No. But if you’re just going for thoughtless entertainment (Duh!), I give this:

The Restoration – Constance

noreply@blogger.com (Reese) — Thu, 03 May 2012 01:30:00 +0000

I guess I have this thing about “concept” albums. Whether it’s a mood concept by Sinatra or lyrical bloat by Genesis, there’s something appealing about an album that intentionally attempts to work all of its songs around some purpose. This is probably why, in recent years, I’ve taken a keen liking to Micah Dalton’s Pawn Shop, Natalie Merchant’s Leave Your Sleep, and The Waterboys’ An Appointment with Mr. Yeats.

To be certain, I favor creative packaging. Given all the fantastic album art of decades ago, with vinyl was enclosed in canvas sized sleeves, I shake my head at what some bands choose to leave as a visual legacy, of sorts, to their musical work.

Lastly, I’ll note that I grew up in South Carolina, more noted for the first State to secede from the Union than a musical birthplace. Those who take a look would find surprising depth beyond The Marshall Tucker Band and Hootie & The Blowfish. Still, it’s a blip on the musical map.

Back to packaging. Voila!

The freaking envelope was addressed with care. Yes, I knew I was ordering an accompanying book. No, I did not know I was getting an appreciation note from one of the band members (the signature I read as the initials of the band.)

The book includes lyrics (no brainer), black and white photos from the Lexington, SC area, a short story regarding one of the characters, and, to round it out, a fictional family tree, a timeline, and detailed song credits. Oh, and a town map. This is a labor of love, from start to finish.

So, as I have not yet begun to comment on the music, is this (concept yet to be explained) musically pretentious à la Rick Wakeman, lyrically preposterous à la Peter Gabriel, or a melding of vision and purpose à la The Dark Side of the Moon?

Fortunately, Constance falls in the last category. After the initial presentation, the disappointment would have been even greater.

As the band’s name might suggest, the era is the post-Civil War South. Specifically, as the return address would suggest, Lexington, SC. There is a narrative to the 12 songs, each sung in a particular character’s perspective. A musical daughter, who marries outside her race. A father, who works himself to an early grave. Their son, who suffers racism (“boy your color is white but your blood’s what ain’t right”). A childhood friend, who dies in WW1. A minister whose spirituality is broken from the evils of the Civil War. A Confederate officer, outwardly successful but inwardly tormented. And there is, of course, a story that ties the threads together.

That story, notably, is only supplemented by the book. The lyrics are sufficient, and they are as thoughtfully and carefully crafted as I’ve heard, possibly ever. There are no wasted words, and no shortage, either. It’s usually poetic, and not the type that leans to easy rhymes or vacuous stanzas. Take Constance, on just one of several laments on the passing of her husband:

Brutal, heavy wedding ring:
Pulls me to its mate beneath my feet.
Your ring forever in the ground,
Mine that pulls my living fingers down.

There’s lyrical brilliance here, such as a man’s obsessive fixation of a woman in church expressed in images of her little round shoes. Dreams, guilt, racism, death... amidst different, if not flawed, convictions on matters of faith. The spiritual aspects cannot be missed here, starting with the first song which leaps from a hymnal through the characters’ travails that frequently call on God for support.

And what about the music, then? Perfect, I say. You might point towards the reach of the Decemberists, or the pulsing drive of Arcade Fire, but it’s thankfully neither. There’s not a song in here that I would want to hear in a random playlist shuffle. But they’re fit as a whole, and are quite enjoyable.

While so many artists fashion their sound after “Americana,” it actually fits here. From the opening hymnal, its clear that the sound is suited to the era. It’s a cappella, and have no fear of studio enhanced vocals for modern effects. And as surprising as the start is (in both its style and lyrical foundation), from the second song you understand that you didn’t get the wrong CD.

Musically, acoustic guitar and violin dominate, but piano, drums, bass, banjo, and organ are woven expertly, not in the sense of a perfect sound, but in the sense of providing music which is perfectly suited to the action and emotion of each song. When one considers titles such as “The Murder of Mr. and Mrs. Palmer” and “The Lynching,” this isn’t a folksy, hand-clapping tribute to the music of days gone by. Much of it is beautiful. And none of it is boring.

The album can be heard in its entirety at the band’s website. Expand your horizons; give it a listen. It’s remarkable and deserves an audience, a growing one.

http://www.therestoration.net/constance/default.shtml

Inman Park Parade 2012

noreply@blogger.com (Reese) — Sun, 29 Apr 2012 19:58:00 +0000

My wife has periodically been an arts exhibitor at this annual festival, which, as much as any, is a celebration of the diversity that exists in the City of Atlanta, “diverse” being a naturally occurring cross section beyond Human Resources definitions or political agendas. This year, we visited the festival without the business preoccupation.

Atlanta’s firs planned suburb, Inman Park features ample homes of architectural interest (emphasis on Victorian), which leads to an annual Tour of Homes conducted at the same time. Below is the rear of “The Trolley Barn,” designed in 1880 during which the area was planned and developed, which marked the end of the trolley line from Atlanta.

The neighborhood fell into decline for decades, during which older homes were demolished and the area was zoned for commercial expansion. At least one commercial building contributes a sense of humor. Residential revitalization has been ongoing for over 30 years.

Aside from the Tour of Homes, the Inman Park Festival includes arts, music, food, other “buy/sell” vendors, and a parade.

Most artists do NOT appreciate photos being taken of their work. Inspiration is one thing, but copying is another, and artists are often distrustful of some who are paid to export fresh ideas to foreign countries for mass production. Others, like Mike Snowden, have no problem with photos. Just ask the vendor.

In addition to artists who create and numerous resellers who buy imports and resell, there are also a good number of vendors who find eclectic oldies and offer them for sale.

Street musicians were surprisingly sparse.

Although the festival booths spread out in the area, this is the main street, shot literally minutes before the parade began.

The parade includes a colorful band of residents, but otherwise it’s a mystery. Marching bands and dance groups, of course. Politicians? Unfortunately. “Colorful” pretty much encompasses everything else. This year’s stars were, in my opinion, Elvis and the digs at The Secret Service’s extracurricular activities.

Inman Park Parade 2012

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It’s a very well attended event. Note: Due to limited parking and horrendous traffic afterwards, this is one of those occasions where Marta is actually worth the hassle, as there is a station at one end of the festival.

Live Nation VIP vs. The Not-So-Good Seats

noreply@blogger.com (Reese) — Thu, 26 Apr 2012 05:00:00 +0000

Yes, I have frustration with ticket service fees. As I’ve mentioned before, they aren’t “just” profit for the ticketing agency. Slices of the pie go to the venue, the producer, and even the artist, and Ticketmaster (or whoever) takes the blame for the disproportionate scalping involved (example, last week’s $25 Drive-By Truckers tickets, with $10 Ticketmaster fee).

I’ve also had suspicions about particular seats in local venues that just happen to always be in the possession of certain ticket resellers – i.e., scalpers that work from a corporate office (or a home) rather than on the street outside the venue. These would be the primo seats in the first few rows, whether close to the stage or in balcony. It’s just “curious” how the same seat numbers seem to be sold by these benevolent ticket re-sellers regardless of the show.

But, as I have come to believe, the networking of tickets between sellers, published reports, and a conversation with a scalper, their paid army of ticket buyers is on the phone at the same time I am, when the sales open. The very many vs. the one...

And, there’s the pre-sale business, either through American Express, VISA, “fan clubs” of the bands, etc.

It’s the latter of these that Live Nation VIP seems to be targeting. Why should “fan clubs” – or whatever corporate entity plays along with the artist to vend that for them – take the profit for “seats guaranteed to be in the first 15 rows?” Especially given that Live Nation has first control of the tickets?

Well, of course LN should take the profit. So, their VIP program offers the same junk (guitar picks, “exclusive” T-shirts, tour programs, blah blah) while pocketing a couple multiples of the face value price.

So, let’s take for example, RUSH, who just announced a 2012 tour and will be headed my way in the fall. Live Nation is offering a ticket + junk, for $275-$300, at the venues where tickets are already being sold. Interestingly, Alpharetta’s Nov. 1st stop is not yet for sale – even through a special pre-sale by Citi as best I can tell, but that isn’t stopping at least one scalper from publishing their prices in advance, by section.

[scroll down] on the link above. Let’s see, the first 15 rows, would be the orchestra section, presumably rows A-0. In that the rows are NOT guaranteed to be in the center, we’ll assume it’s in a block (rather safely, I think) to one side. Prices vary from $209 to over $500, some with specific rows already designated.

Rows A-0 are themselves interesting, especially given the venue’s recent trend towards removing the seats in that section for a larger general admission area (more bodies in the venue). Hmm. What does this mean? Well, the scalper apparently has inside knowledge of the seating arrangement, and an arrangement of other sorts that tickets in defined areas will be available to them. I don’t know that for a fact – they could be relying on past data and the likelihood of tickets being available through various other scalpers.

A visit to Rush’s website indicates, very strangely, that the Alpharetta venue, against type for all others, isn’t even a Live Nation event. Very strange. They actually specifically state that their VIP service is available at Lakewood Amphitheater, Chastain, and The Tabernacle. But, where there are profits, there is a way.

Now, IF I were enough of a fan to shell out cash for the close view... the LN VIP offer is actually attractive. I have no likelihood of entering the on-line lottery for a decent seat, and if I’m overpaying, their prices are actually better than the one scalper listed, and, of course, I get a stash of junk. I’d especially like it if my “exclusive T-shirt” had special fan language to set me apart, like “I paid $300 for a ticket and got this cool shirt for free!”

Well, there you have the future for venues with assigned venues. You’re not just competing against the scalpers, you’re competing against the ticket agency who controls the flow of goods.

“Say, what’s that about The Tabernacle? That’s usually a General Admission venue!”

Right, like my insanely loud Drive-By Truckers show last weekend. I arrived early enough to get front row seats on the first balcony... only, the first three rows of the center two sections were “Reserved” – with Live Nation staff as standing police. So, given the remaining seats, I opted for aisle seats on the third row, adjacent to the reserved section (But otherwise the head count said I was there in time for front row further to the side).

Well, who are they reserved for? Friends of the band? Callers on a radio show for free tickets? Fan Club members? It’s a bunch of seats... so I asked. “They’re for our VIP customers, but many of these seats are still available. Just call this phone number now and you can upgrade to these.” Pfft. “How much?” Reply: “I don’t know. You’d have to call the number.”

Not.

As it turned out, enough “VIPs” showed up to fill the front row and a couple other seats, and the people who sat behind the reserved sections were ushered to the lower rows shortly before the Truckers took the stage.

So, what’s the moral of the story? Call the instant when a ticket sale begins, or arrive early to get the best seat, and you’re screwed. Some combination of the artist, venue, venue manager (I can’t help but wonder), producer, scalper, or official venue ticket seller rebranded as scalper takes more profit.

Supply vs. demand... I get it. But I also get that I’m enjoying concert Blu-rays more and more, for $15.99 plus tax. And lesser known artists in the lesser known places can sound really good.

Drive-by Truckers – Live at the Tabernacle 2012

noreply@blogger.com (Reese) — Sun, 22 Apr 2012 20:38:00 +0000

Megafaun, a Durham, NC based folk-rock group, opened the evening. I’m not familiar with their songs, but as openers, go, they were a solid choice. Though some songs were fairly straightforward, they appear ready to move into jam band territory, which might suit them well. On the other hand, it’s almost as if they seek to find zones where discord takes over, so that when they pull out of it they sound that much the better.

It was a night that reflected on the recent passing of The Band’s drummer/singer Levon Helm. Megafaun covered “I Shall Be Released,” and did a fine job of it. Their drummer even has more than a passing resemblance. When the lights went down for the Truckers, the house sound switched to a Helm song in its entirety before the band took the stage. Helm would later have a dedication during “Uncle Frank,” as well as a fuller tribute in the encore with both bands covering “The Weight,” taking vocal turns on the stanzas. The passing is a loss to music for those in the know, but it added a nice change of pace to the evening.

And what an evening it was. The sound was simply hellacious. Not hellaciously good, but that of tormenting demons. Megafaun was enjoyably loud. Crisp guitars, bass, drums, vocals. Good!

The Truckers cranked it up a notch (or three) too many. I’ve been to DBT shows before. I know loud, and I can deal with it. I know that given a few songs, my brain will sort out the aural mess and will make what was seemingly “not ideal” into an enjoyable concert experience. I’m also a realist on what concert sound is (per many audience recordings via bootlegs) and what it can be (from attending quite a number of venues).

This was unnecessarily bad.

The venue itself is loud. The Flaming Lips’ Wayne Coyne mentioned during their last stop that they’ve played all over the world, and The Tabernacle is “the f***ing loudest.” But he was talking about the crowd noise directed towards the band.

After the initial assault did not diminish, and either my brain or the sound board operator was proving not to make it better, I became fully convinced that Mike Cooley’s mic was blown. Seriously. To the point that I thought a techie would come out and replace it. No, apparently the sound was properly set at “Max.” While Hood’s voice sounded somewhat better... this was apparently the way they wanted to be heard. And that isn’t fair, because I’ve sat in near identical seats (off center, first balcony, three rows back) and had very enjoyable (loud) sound. Looking around, I wasn’t alone.

My son and and his friends would later comment, when they could understand what I was saying during the drive home, that they could only make out some of the words. I had the advantage of knowing the songs, and I could barely follow along. Add in The Tabernacle’s pedestrian lighting system, and hell no, I ain’t happy.

Which is a shame. DBT’s performance was awesome, particularly as the evening wore on. The band covered a generous 7 song helping from “Southern Rock Opera” and three each from “Decoration Day” and “The Dirty South.” That’s their best stuff, and there was a lot of it. Add in four songs from their older recordings, and that, interestingly, leaves only 1 song each from their last four albums. I’m wondering (and hoping) if the emphasis on their best stuff isn’t just playing to “crowd favorites” but a recognition that they need to write more of them. Probably not, as they bring 80 or so songs from which they choose to play each night.

Highlights included whenever leader Patterson Hood interacts with the audience – such as intros to “Box of Spiders” or “The Southern Thing” as well as whenever he talks in the moment, such as to an attendee who was outed when he threw a cup in the audience. Hood remains the heart and soul of the band, and this being my third DBT show, he always seems to be having a genuinely good time. In the other two shows (2005 and 2010), the band used to pass around a jug presumably filled with whiskey. The jug is smaller, the liquid is clear, and it doesn’t get passed around anymore. I guess they’re maturing.

Musically, “Puttin’ People on the Moon” was strong, “Let There Be Rock” pushed the crowd into fist pumping territory, and “Hell No, I Ain’t Happy” was a raucous, guitar wailing rendition. At 2.5+ hours, I thought that would have been the last song, but they continued with SROs “end of the road” classics, with each member leaving the stage while leaving their instruments sounding loudly, a tradition when they close with “Angels and Fuselage.”

As bassist Shonna Tucker left the band, current touring bassist Matt Patton took stage right, leaving singer/guitarist Mike Cooley near the center. Cooley’s always been content on the wings, but it was good to see him share the role of center stage rocker, with all the adulation that comes with it. It seems right.

Otherwise, the star of the show was John Neff, an unassuming side-man who happens to play lead guitar. Cooley and Patterson can bash it out, which fits many of their songs, but whether soloing, playing slide, or pedal steel, Neff is the one who makes it all sound better.

Below, near the end of the concert, perhaps the front row fans are getting a better capture of whichever dimension Hood’s arm is entering.

This guy didn’t make it. I think the people who were in the missing seats left to search for medical attention for their ears. I’ve tacked on a few interior shots of The Tabernacle after the Set-list below. If you go, it’s an interesting place to explore. Aside from the art, it also has the highest bar to patron ratio in Atlanta.

Setlist

The Buford Stick
Where the Devil Don’t Stay
The Southern Thing
Gravity’s Gone
Sinkhole
Uncle Frank
Buttholeville / State Trooper (Springsteen)
72 (This Highway’s Mean)
My Sweet Annette
Women Without Whiskey
The Living Bubba
Cartoon Gold
Box of Spiders
Three Dimes Down
Puttin’ People on the Moon

Encore:

The Weight (w/ Megafaun)
Get Downtown
Let There Be Rock
Zip City
Hell No, I Ain’t Happy
Shut Up and Get on the Plane
Angels and Fuselage

Photos from within The Tabernacle, previously a church.

Flying Colors – CD Review

noreply@blogger.com (Reese) — Sat, 21 Apr 2012 18:52:00 +0000

Supergroups, go figure.

Crosby, Stills, and Nash (& Young). Check.
Cream. Check.
Blind Faith – half check (for short duration).
Asia – check.
Traveling Wilburys – half check.
Velvet Revolver – half check.
Chickenfoot – check.

There’s plenty of others, mostly depending on how “super” you might regard the bands from which the members came.

For Flying Colors, we have members of: Dream Theater, Spock’s Beard, Dixie Dregs (x2), and, uh, Alpha Rev. The “super” aspects for this group of musicians largely surround their instrumental virtuosity. They’re really, really fine musicians. So, when really, really fine musicians get together to write music, what type of music will they make? Will they play it safe within their comfort zones? Take their genres to farther reaches? Or cash in for “commercial product” – i.e, sell out?

Flying Colors largely has opted for the latter by way of their vocal stylings. Well played commercial music is enjoyable. If one looks back at “classic rock,” you’ll find clean guitar lines that build emotions, excellent vocals, and songs with “hooks”. Sadly, none of that is found here.

Well, then, how about if one views it as a progressive rock album? That would involve frequent instrumental flourishes, a variety of pacing amongst songs and within songs, and, lyrics that tell some sort of story, which can either be appreciated or ignored due to the quality elsewhere in the music. I think Flying Colors has something in this regard, as evidenced by the blogging Prog Rock community’s enthusiasm for this CD.

Really?

“Blue Ocean” – Studio chatter introduces this song, which is launched by David LaRue’s hyperactive bass. And, here comes the singing... good range, emotive and completely non-distinctive. Per my son, “it just doesn’t fit” (in context with the excellent things going on musically in the background).

“Shoulda Coulda Woulda” – I guess it’s the Beiberization of vocals in recent years. You can put every other instrument through pedals and filters to make them sound different, why not “help” the vocalist? It’s usually an indication that, untreated, it just wasn’t happening. Anyway, this is a straightforward brash rocker with elements of Nine Inch Nails and Muse.

“Kayla” – Generally regarded as a standout, it’s got a great musical groove. Percussion, guitar... they’ve got it cooking. But the vocals... yeah, they’re treated a bit, but the problem is in the song construction. The music doesn’t lead to a chorus – there’s no bridge – it’s just a jump off the bridge leap in the lack of better ideas. The chorus itself is nice – it just doesn’t fit where the music has been. What a waste.

“The Storm” – This sounds like a song that was actually worked out in full before arriving in the studio. It’s got a nice lyric and it’s made for radio. It’s the kind of FM radio song that people enjoy but never buy.

“Forever in a Daze” – Moving from 80’s Top 40 to a rock swagger, this track is just a miss. Steve Morse adds a sinister sounding guitar intro, backed by typically excellent Larue Bass. This is the first song that has a feel of something special, the type of special that Page and Jones might have worked into something magnificent. Instead, we have treated vocals, a clunky transition to the chorus, and a complete loss of vibe. But, “listen to that bass, dad. It’s so good!”

“Love is What I’m Waiting For” – Almost a pop song. Lou Gramm could have made it that, back in the day. The song works as a whole, with a Beatles’ simplicity, and Morse almost manages to slow his fretwork to a George Harrison pace. Almost. Still, it suffers from the “dropped in chorus” phenomena, now routinely observed on this CD.

“Everything Changes” – With more of an indie vocalist styling, this song works pretty well, even the unexpected pop detour in the middle. It’s good progressive stuff, with room for Morse to blitz his notes and provide space for the keyboards (ala Genesis) to be heard at the end. Sadly, keyboards get lost in most of the songs.

“Better Than Walking Away” – Solid album filler, sung in faux Chris Martin falsetto.

“Ode to Muse” – a frenetic rocker – Oh, sorry. It’s actually titled “All Falls Down.” Yes, I think Muse would have done this better, but the question is why this band would want to sound like Muse? Or Coldplay? or the Beatles? or anyone else?

“Fool in My Heart” – Suddenly the vocal space is pleasing and rich in texture. What the? Drummer Mike Portnoy takes over lead vocals, and McPherson’s accents are revealed as annoyingly thin and reedy, untreated as they are. This is a good song – it works on all (other) levels.

“Infinite Fire” – Finally, we come to the longer drawn out opus that offers the musicians space to flex their muscles. It has a nice jazzy intro which segues into something commercial before breaking off into virtuoso land. Neal Morse’s keyboards are finally heard, Steve Morse’s guitar has room to roam, at which he never fails to entertain, and, in an appropriate gesture to Yes’ penchant for tying musical snatches together, McPherson’s Jon Anderson tribute works as well.

This is a very disappointing CD, perhaps more from expectations than failures wihin. Each and every song has musical muscle and flourishes that grab attention, but it’s a losing cause. The problems:

Lack of identity – who do they want to be? If you want to be Asia, do it better than they did. If you want to be the best prog rock band, don’t aim for popularity contests.
Song construction – come on, if you want commercial appeal, listen to Styx, REO, Foreigner, etc. for just a glimmer of how to build hooks.
Vocals – McPherson isn’t the right fit for the music, but to be fair, I don’t know who would be. It’s a challenging task, but sounding like anyone but yourself is a pretty good clue that it’s just not working here.
Lyrics – not bad, actually. Stanzas read well, and they’re generally uplifting and hopeful. But for the most part, they dissipate at the end of each song. I’m pressed to recall much of them, having listened to the CD quite a bit.
The rush – the CD was reportedly recorded in 10 days. That saves studio time and may fit members’ schedules, but here’s to hoping that they take a lot longer in working out their musical ideas next time around. And I hope there is, because musically, they can collectively deserve “supergroup” status.

I will say that I’ve gradually warmed to the CD, but it’s not one that I will play often or with an active ear. And that’s a shame.

Canon Customer Service

noreply@blogger.com (Reese) — Fri, 20 Apr 2012 22:48:00 +0000

My G11 has been a regular companion at concerts and other places. It’s a digital compact camera, but one which offers as much DSLR control options as can be fit onto a smaller body... without being buried in layers of electronics controls. Good fit, fast access to controls, pocketability. It’s delivered great pictures in good lighting, and good pictures in challenging concert lighting. It’s a familiar friend.

I’ve noticed for some time that I had a scratch on the lens, with no idea how it might have gotten scratched. When off, there’s a lens cover that automatically retracts. When open the lens is fairly well recessed within the lens body. Recently, though, the scratch interfered with a shot, and, upon examination, the scratch looked slightly larger.

Buying a new camera is, of course, tempting. The Canon G1x has a sensor size that starts one in “thinking man” pose before moving on to “drooling man” chagrin. Or, perhaps one of those spiffy mirrorless cameras... But... whereas the mind is willing, the checking account is not.

Well, then, how much would it cost to get ol’ trusty repaired? Check Canon’s website... $150.

That’s Canon’s flat fee for whatever ails a G-11. This is a camera over two years old, which, in camera terms, doesn’t make it as much of a relic as it would with most other forms of modern electronics. Camera evolution, I’ve found, is a slow process.

All things considered, a repair is the sensible thing to do. So, I entered the credit card information, and was duly notified that I would get my camera back within a week of their receipt. Speedy, in my reckoning. They also reserve the right to change the price, make use of used parts, or to send me an entirely different camera in return.

Okay!

That’s “okay!” in the “maybe they’ll be out of G-11 bits and pieces and send me a slightly less aged G-12.”

I shipped last Friday, and received a confirmation email that they had received it on Monday. Also on Monday, they altered the repair agreement, which might be unsettling. However... they dropped the $150 altogether. Yep, a free repair, for a camera that is out of the warranty period.

I’ll admit that I had hoped for us much. A Google search and a few clicks indicated that some other camera owners had similar problems, in that the scratches were caused by the retractable lens cover having too tight a tolerance to the lens surface. It scratched itself.

Still, there’s been no mention of Canon repairing it for free, and for a mega-company to have my agreement to bill me $150 and choose not to do so... is worthy of a blog post.

Today, I received ol’ trusty in the mail, with a new lens body, exactly one week from the date I shipped it. That’s three days early for those who are counting. I’m “out” postage and insurance, which totaled around $10. That’s a bargain.

Kudos to Canon!

Dr. John – Locked Down

noreply@blogger.com (Reese) — Sun, 15 Apr 2012 18:01:00 +0000

This album is fun. Score a CD sale to Spotify, where I listened to the first two tracks and knew I was in for the whole thing. I’ve heard Dr. John before, but not much. The long time New Orleans guitarist/pianist has a lengthy career, but I’ve mostly heard him guesting on others’ recordings, usually a marginal addition swallowed up in someone else’s sound.

Years ago, I bought Robbie Robertson’s “Storyville” CD – inspired lyrically and musically by the New Orleans scene – one imagines funky beats, jazzy horns, blues rompers – all possibly twisted by a Cajun or Voodoo twist. In any case, it’s not quite the sound of the Quarter – it would be a hypothetical soundtrack of much cooler places that tourists would never know. In either case, Robertson, a gifted songwriter, didn’t deliver adequately.

Now comes 71 year old Malcolm John Rebennack, Jr., Dr. John’s real name, who, with 20 albums in his career, has lived there long enough to get a truer feel. Whatever it is that I had hoped for with Robertson, he nails it here. I’m not familiar with his older work, but some say this CD harkens back to his late 60’s “Night Tripper” releases. In that case, you can judge a book by its cover.

It fits. And the imagery also suggests it’s a thing of the night, which it very much is. Dark clubs, hot nights, people enjoying people – that’s the setting for the imaginary soundtrack.

Sonically, this CD is everything I could ask for. Lush. Great beats, grooving organ melodies, dynamic horns, 60’s background vocals, ripping guitar leads... Produced and accompanied by The Black Key’s Dan Auerbach, it’s also modern in its clarity while losing nothing in its vibe. And much of that vibe is Dr. John’s aging voice, a gritty, energetic exclamation point that warrants no apologies here.

Lyrically, Dr. John delivers as well. Touching on age, the economy, faith, deceit, the struggle... sure, it’s timely, but issues of human nature aren’t limited to specific decades, and he’s been around to absorb it and capture it in a decidedly enjoyable, celebratory snapshot. It’s 42 minutes long, but it plays fast.

Suggested Tracks: “Revolution,” “Eleggua,” “Locked Down” – but better enjoyed in its entirety.

Suwanee Beer Fest 2012

noreply@blogger.com (Reese) — Sun, 01 Apr 2012 16:46:00 +0000

As if The Color Run wasn’t enough for a day, there follows a less exercising opportunity called the Suwanee Beer Fest, it’s second (or is it first?) “annual” appearance. Suggested by a co-worker without a “hard sell,” the appeal of reportedly 100 Craft Breweries and over 200 beers drew my attention, especially when looking at the breweries participating. The cost? $35 for a four hour tasting window. Held at Suwanee’s Town Center Park, an immaculately maintained lawn area fronting City Hall and other storefronts, it’s the perfect place to stand on a concrete path, waiting to get in.

In fairness, the line did move quickly, the number of tickets were limited, and the feel of the festival was not one that is overcrowded. Kudos to a City for a nice theme (below), great facility, obviously public support, and... where were the Police? They were hardly visible, likely resting to “observe” those leaving at the festival’s end.

This was my first beer festival of any sort, and, as usual, reality sometimes differs from expectations. For example, I wouldn’t have expected a flock of attendees at the Pabst Blue Ribbon tent. But, there they were.

I also expected one tent per brewery, perhaps even with someone knowledgeable about their brands. In some cases, that was true. In others, fairly significant brands, like Lost Abbey, Rogue, and Oskar Blues, were jointly presented in confusion fashion under single tents. Local breweries, like Sweetwater, Terrapin, Red Brick Brewing, Jailhouse Brewing, O’Dempsey and those below, made a good show of it.

Attendees are given a 3 oz. “glass” made of plastic. Given the occasional drops by patrons, the less weighty approach makes sense. With so many options to choose from, 2 oz. would have been just fine.

I expected music, and there was a very suitable stage and sitting area for that purpose. I did not expect to hear good music, so that expectation was met. I did expect to hear sonically capable music, which I did not. The sound of drums and muddled bass became the soundtrack to the festival. Oh well.

I sampled... it’s hard to remember, but not because I drank so many. I’m just bad with names. Lost Abbey’s Devotion. I think. Bell’s Oberon, which had a lengthy line compared with others. I’m just not a summer beer person. It disappointed. Highland Brewing’s Gaelic Ale. Very nice. Red Hare’s Long Day Lager, a local brewer with potential, and one of only two breweries selling T-shirts. I also had Adnams’ Broadside, pictured below, a fortunate happenstance of empty cup, no line, and appealing graphics.

Also on the “I better take a picture or I’ll forget it” list, is the below, from Mississippi’s sole brewery. Their Southern Pecan Nut Brown Ale sounded interesting (made with whole roasted pecans) but may give evidence to why there is only one brewery in the State. Still, I like the Southern pride and will try others in time.

Also came across 5% alcohol Twisted Tea. I don’t know that I would choose to drink this, but it did cleanse the palette suitably.

I think there were a couple of others. As I consider the $35 and divide by 3 oz. servings, I hope so. It is definitely a great opportunity to sample beers.

And I’m not good at “reviewing” beers. Those better at it tend to discern things that are either lost to me or of which I fail to pay attention. Such as, “It pours with a vigorous bead; honey-colored, cloudy and golden. The head is snowy and a nitro-like tuft remained on my glass until the last swallow. The nose had a tart, cellary yeast smell that was pure Belgian. I got hints of citrus, mineral, and a candy undertone (perhaps from high mashing temperatures that produce high unfermentables?).”

That’s a lot of work. I just go by taste and generally know which styles I like. I’d probably like the one just described.

But, I do like beer cold, preferably while sitting, and with something to accompany it. Like a burger. Or wings. Or nachos and salsa. And thereby take some time with it. Should I pass through another beer festival, I’ll have to plan accordingly:

#1: Wear a hat. The sun burns. This is one step beyond bringing a hat. I did that. And I left it in the car because it was overcast.

#2: Figure out how to bring in some food. Not heaps of it – it’s not an “avoid getting inebriated” issue. It’s just a savory break between one beer and the next. The nibbles and bits from cooking related vendors (Big Green Egg, Kroger) just aren’t enough.

#3: Take specific notes of those brands that fail to appear. 21st Amendment Brewing, for example. You get your hopes up... and no show. There were others as well.

#4: Arrive early. Why were the entry lines so long? Because everyone first had to find a parking spot, and I didn’t beat them to it.

And lastly, a T-shirt that cracked me up.

The Color Run – Atlanta 2012

noreply@blogger.com (Reese) — Sun, 01 Apr 2012 05:27:00 +0000

Katie, A young girl I used to teach in 11th and 12th grade Sunday School, now a young woman, asked me to run with her in The Color Run, a 5k race benefitting Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta. Well, sure! Now, what is it?

The website says 3.1 miles of color madness. Run a bit, get plastered with colored paint. Or pigment. Or “basically food grade cornstarch.” Run a bit ore, get colored some more. Etc.

Leaving early to use mass transit and opting en route to avoid the hassle, we arrived quite early, with her friend Jennifer and my wife, who was appointed to document our legendary color feats in photographs for later generations. This allowed a few photo ops of some other runners who dressed more imaginatively for the occasion.

Otherwise, there were a lot of people wearing the required white. If you look past the beach balls, you can see in the distance a portion of those gathered. Releasing ~1000 runners every few minutes, there was still a line when we finished the run.

We were in the second batch to leave, which was a good thing. The starter’s humor may have been fine, but what we heard was consistently like Charlie Brown’s elementary school teacher. “mumble mumble.”

Careful readers may note that this isn’t The Color Race. Perhaps it could be at other venues, but it is not a timed event. And it’s not, technically, a run. Walkers, strollers, etc. are encouraged. So, confined to a lane in the street, those inclined to jog are forced to cross over to the side walk or otherwise dodge those who walk or suddenly stop, or, worse, those that walk 5 abreast. I’m not a runner, and barely a jogger, so arriving at the first Color Zone with 4k to go, I was basically okay that my heart rate was unchanged. Things would speed up after the first Color Zone.

Fast-forward a bit, and we have our first place finisher. Her Nike’s must have been blessed by Michael Jordan, because she’s running on air. Given the sidewalk cracks, roots, puddles, and such, that’s an unfair advantage.

Each runner is given a bag of colored whatever to toss at the end of the race in a big cloud. Some, such as us, chose to share between friends.

The Run FAQ indicates there are fans which will blow the colors off well enough for a ride in the car. No fans here. Only leaf blowers. Ah, the smell of 2 cycle exhaust in the morning!

Overall, quite a good time! And where else would you be able to blow colors out of your nose?

Bruce Springsteen – Live in Atlanta

noreply@blogger.com (Reese) — Tue, 20 Mar 2012 02:09:00 +0000

I’ve seen many concerts, but Bruce Springsteen has not been among them. I’ve had opportunities, but while I respect and generally favor artists who continually grow, much of his music over the last two decades hasn’t appealed. 2007’s “Magic” caught my ear, and I really shouldn’t go through however many years and say “I never saw him.” That path leads to regrets. Those regrets came to roost with the passing of iconic band member Clarence Clemons last year, and having become a fan of Nils Lofgren, it was time to catch a rock legend… with his legendary band.

Perhaps in consideration of Atlanta’s penchant for arriving unfashionably late, Springsteen took the stage 37 minutes after the scheduled start. After a self-parodying and fairly hilarious self introduction (“the future of rock ‘n’ roll himself, he’s sexy and he knows it, the owner of the #1 album… for four days!”) the band kicked off with an anthemic “We Take Care of Our Own,” quickly followed by “Wrecking Ball,” the title track of his most recent CD.

It’s difficult to comment on the Wrecking Ball Tour without touching on Wrecking Ball itself. It’s extremely well done – the lyrics, the tunefulness, the musicianship. Happily, Springsteen doesn’t sound like he’s trying to be Bob Dylan any more… Pete Seeger, well, guilty, but comfortably in his own E Street skin. But almost the entirety of the CD has a lyrical weight about it, basically remarking on tough economic times. There are uplifting moments, certainly, but the subject matter is a downer. Springsteen has always written about the struggle, but supplanting youthful exuberance with moralistic imperatives... it's not for easy listening.

Two songs into the concert, two songs from the new CD…

“Badlands” to the rescue! The crowd roars in response to this classic, but, if you pay attention to the lyrics, he’s still working on a theme. And enter “Death to My Hometown.” Don’t be fooled with the accordion and roots feel. The driving beat, the hammered strums and the angry vocal delivery made clear his conviction, if not insistency, on the theme.

Heavy stuff, and not necessarily what I wanted from my first Bruce concert. Take a breath, Bruce. Lighten up. And he did, talking to the audience, ultimately promising to “wake you, shake you, and take you to a higher ground!”

… followed by “My City of Ruins.”

When you expect or hope for one thing, and get another, you can either fret about it or appreciate what it is that you have. The E Street Band, now 16 members strong, does these songs really, really well. However, If Stevie Van Zandt and Nils Lofgren are sidelined as rhythm guitarists, don’t despair. It’s okay. He’s the Boss. If the brass section and fiddle are defining the musical palette du jour, okay. If the whole of the E-Street Band is as static as a set of furniture (except Lofgren, who has casters) while Bruce runs around the house, so be it. It’s his house. And Clarence isn’t there.

Clarence isn’t there. I tried to talk a friend into going with me to this show. “No thanks. I saw him a few times with Clarence.” His absence hung there, waiting for an expression.

Springsteen handled the death of the tenor saxophonist with class. Jake Clemons, Clarence’s nephew, by this point had already received a huge outpouring of band and audience support during “Badlands,” but after introducing the band members, Springsteen asked “Are we missing anybody?” Spotlights lit the spaces where Clemons and former organist Danny Federici (who died in 2009) would have stood, and the crowd shouted “Clarence!” at each call.

And speaking of the old days, the band launched into “The E Street Shuffle,” a welcomed release, you might say, for both the band and the audience. Plus, it’s a great song.

Springsteen then introduced “Jack of All Trades,” noting his concern about the economy’s downward turn in 2009 and the relative lack of demonstrable public outrage at the time. Much of this song resonates until one comes to the last stanza:

So you use what you've got, and you learn to make do
You take the old, you make it new
If I had me a gun, I'd find the bastards and shoot 'em on sight

One can’t help but think back to The Clash’s “White Riot” for a social call to action, and the shouted agreement from sections in the audience was troubling. Is murder (vigilante justice is too far a stretch) really the end goal? And are people who paid $100 plus for tickets so disenfranchised that they’re all for it? It’s just a concert. Think about it some other time...

“Seeds” followed, an older, darker toned rocker that didn’t really capture the audience. “Easy Money” played well live, with wife Patti joining him on vocals. And then, to some, a respite from tales of woe with “Waitin’ on a Sunny Day.” It’s a happy tune, but, per the title, the sunny day isn’t here yet. Still, it lifted the mood, and Springsteen reached out to a teen for well intentioned help. Note: If you want to sing or dance with Bruce, get close to the stage and bring a sign. He notices these.

“The Promised Land” carried the mood further. Yes, it’s apparently a concert staple, but it’s always good to hear.

Enter a short soul revue. Following his recent appearance at The Apollo, it makes sense. The band had the songs ready, and they were clearly having fun playing them. Still, being fair, other singers sing them better, and I’d bet 99% of the audience would have preferred, oh, “Candy’s Room” or anything from The River. Still, if not singing of desperate times, these are oldies and, in some sense, fit in with the overall tone.

And don’t forget that theme, mind you. “Shackled and Drawn,” “Lonesome Day,” “The Rising,” “We Are Alive”... It’s the Wrecking Ball tour, folks. Ten of 13 tracks, even. It wears, until finally, and finale, a rocking “Thunder Road.”

After the stage went dark for, being generous, a minute, the encore followed, opening with all those classic favorites for which fans had been waiting!

Not.

“Rocky Ground” and “Land of Hopes and Dreams.” This review is likely sounding decidedly negative. It’s not. I enjoyed the show. The E Street Band never seemed to work up a sweat for these songs, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t execute wonderfully. They make Bruce sound as good as he can sound, and he sounded good anyway. His voice was in fine form, and his energy level was through the roof.

The crowd finally joined him there with “Born to Run.” The arena was lit, fists pumping in the air everywhere, and Jake nails the sax solo. “Dancing in the Dark” followed, a partying song for the dispirited or for those who don’t pay attention to the lyrics. A teen with a sign got her Courtney Cox moment, and a couple of dancing tips even. Everyone is having fun.

What follows is offered with a nod to St. Patrick’s Day, “American Land.” Musically, sure, but the cynicism is still there. Given the high watt dosage of the previous two songs and an easy feel, this song kept people up and moving. (Fodder for essayists: lists of radio friendly Springsteen tunes that belie his lyrical point).

And, finally, “Tenth Avenue Freeze Out,” recognized by the masses in a “Name that Tune” fractional moment. The E-Street Band was all over this, the crowd was into it, the familiar lyrics flow “when the big man joined the band,” and the music stops. Ear-splitting tribute followed from the crowd, while band members pointed skyward. Literally minutes later, a drum snaps, and the piano kicks in to launch the rest of the song.

All told, this sounded like, and was, a fantastic Bruce Springsteen concert. High energy, great audience engagement, passionate delivery, and forget his age. He’s got it.

At the same time, it was disappointing Bruce and the E Street Band concert. And, I get it. Springsteen has floundered a bit, but remains relevant today. Wrecking Ball validates that.

I didn’t need to hear, or even plan to hear, a warmed up “best of” show. But even if Jake has to learn some more songs before the repertoire becomes more flexible, I think the show is the way it’s meant to be. With the stellar talent on stage, they could reinvent older songs musically. The Boss chose not to. It’s the Wrecking Ball tour.

Set List

We Take Care of Our Own
Wrecking Ball
Badlands
Death to My Hometown
My City of Ruins
The E Street Shuffle
Jack of All Trades
Seeds
Easy Money
Waitin’ on a Sunny Day
The Promised Land
The Way You Do the Things You Do
634-5789
Shackled and Drawn
Lonesome Day
The Rising
We Are Alive
Thunder Road

Encore:

Rocky Ground
Land of Hope and Dreams
Born to Run
Dancing in the Dark
American Land
Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out

Micah Dalton – Live at Vinyl

noreply@blogger.com (Reese) — Sat, 17 Mar 2012 20:15:00 +0000

Dalton is an Atlanta based singer/guitarist. I’ve been a fan since his 2008 release, Pawn Shop. He plays regularly in the area, but most appearances are sans band, and the musicianship in Pawnshop contributed significantly to what I liked about that CD. I’ve wanted to hear him with a band.

Fast forward four years, and Dalton has (finally) released a follow-up, Blue Frontier, which he has premiered with CD release “parties” in Birmingham and Atlanta. Based on his last release, a continuing awareness of appearances in Atlanta, a band to support him, the timing on a Friday night, and a much appreciated door price ($12), it summed to a greater draw than the evenings NCAA’s March Madness.

As is my habit, I arrived early, in part because I hadn’t been to Vinyl before (a subset, of sorts, of Center Stage) and partly to experiment with camera settings. Oh, and then there was the additional draw of a new beer brewer in town, Monday Night Brewing, who contributed free beer while supplies lasted. They currently have two offerings, Eye Patch Ale (IPA) and Drafty Kilt Scotch Ale. Despite their website suggestion of a “swashbuckling adventure” for the IPA, I found it to be a mainstream hoppy flavor with little to set it apart from others, but it certainly wasn’t lacking. I was more interested in the Scotch Ale, which would come out after the IPA depleted... I’m not certain that ever happened. Still, free beer is free beer, and it was pretty good. The below humored me, especially as it’s actually in favor of said topic.

The venue includes a reasonably sized stage, a standing area, a helping of tables and booths towards the rear, a capable bar, and a pool table. The sound, all things considered, was pretty good with an exception noted later.

The opening act, Shook Foil, scored higher on the originality of their name than their music. Theirs seemed an overly long set for what sounded like a fairly new band, and it ultimately pushed Dalton into the early hours of the morning. Still, they seemed musically adventurous at times, and, perhaps, in need of additional instruments to add options to their sound. As a trio, it didn’t work for me. A second act followed, Peter Groenwald, who has very good pop sensibilities and a ready-for-radio voice... if radio still mattered. Good stuff.

I didn’t enjoy Groenwald as much as I should have, though, being preoccupied with two things: 1) the inadequate air changes in the club (smoking allowed) and 2) the din of conversation. The many who were not there to listen thrust their chatter forward with an almost equal ease as the sound system. For artist appreciation, Vinyl is definitely not Eddie’s Attic.

By the time Dalton took the stage, there were perhaps 150 gathered. Many, I think, were friends, band members, band member’s friends, and regular supporters known to him. I think all were there to hear him play, and blessedly, the whole turned from their conversations to his performance.

Dalton wins with a very friendly, easy manner, and he gave a confident performance, launching into new material from the start. Backed by various vocalists, at times, and a horn section, at times, plus drummer, keyboardist, bassist, and an electric guitarist (with very tasteful licks), Dalton sang while playing either acoustic or electric.

Dalton played most, if not all, of the songs from his new CD, each rather immediately likeable. The songs with brass were particularly enjoyable, both for the punch and the dynamic appeal. Admittedly, the hour was late, but it would have been nice to have heard what was on his mind when he wrote some of the songs. It was my first CD release party... other than new CDs ready for purchase and free beer, I suppose I had imagined an artist wanting to share more about the music than just the music.

When the show wrapped, Dalton had played an efficient set of new tracks, plus three of the best songs from Pawn Shop. The guy has talent, a great sense of song development, and ear for what sounds right. Overall, it just makes one wonder about all the other artists out there who are worth hearing, who toil at their labor of love, and who likely will never find a sizeable audience. I contributed to his cause, buying a CD at the end, which he kindly autographed. Again, expectations suffered. I was the only one who asked for an autograph. I guess others will have their iTunes downloads autographed.

Related thought: What will CD release parties be called when there are no longer CDs? “New download party” just doesn’t sound appealing or event worthy.

Brad’s Grill – Home of the Messy Burger

noreply@blogger.com (Reese) — Thu, 15 Mar 2012 02:48:00 +0000

Gainesville, GA is off the beaten path for me. A coworker visited there a while back, and when leaving an appointment, his contact suggested he stop and have a taste of iconic Gainesville. He did, and being directed towards “The Messy Burger,” ordered same, to go.

A couple miles down the road, he pulled over, the size and “messy” proving too difficult to multitask without ruining his clothes. I’ve since heard from a couple of others that The Messy Burger is a deserving stopping point, if not a destination.

The opportunity, finally, arose.

It doesn’t look like much from the outside, but burger joints don’t have to. Entered from the side of a small strip center type building, I actually missed it as I was driving from the other direction. But it’s there, if you look for it.

The inside? Decent, faux-building inside a building defining the decor. The geography almost demands a UGA Bulldogs motif, which was present. Sadly. A queue line has a wall sized menu of a wide variety of offerings which I didn’t bother to consider. After all, I was here for the Messy Burger. The counter service was warm and efficient, and the wait was not too long.

Ah, yes, the burger itself. This includes:

Two beef patties – ground chuck - you get your half pound of meat.
Lettuce – fresh and crispy.
Tomato – pretty sure it was in there somewhere.
Ketchup – it makes everything better.
Mustard – just a bit for flavor, not an overpowering dose, thankfully.
Cheese (optional) – I opted not.
Bacon – cooked short of being crispy but thoroughly enough to minimize the fat.
Pickles – well, yeah.
Onions – eh, no. Not on one of my burgers, unless fried.
Cole slaw – it’s what distinguishes “messy” from “big.”

The best thing about this burger was that it tasted like a fine burger. The flavor of the meat carries through the experience, proving more than just a substrate for layered additives. Really, really good.

Other good things about the burger? It was not nearly as messy as I might have expected. The meat patties did not drip grease, and the bun did well to hold the assemblage in place until the final bite. That’s not small feat.

Fries? Darned good. Sure, they’re frozen, but what makes good fries is the proper amount of time in the fryer, but also the type of and regular change out of the cooking oil.

For someone who only occasionally goes to Gainesville, there’s no reason to eat anywhere else.

Jethro Tull – Aqualung (40th Anniversary)

noreply@blogger.com (Reese) — Tue, 13 Mar 2012 01:38:00 +0000

Aqualung first came to my attention by way of my High School English teacher’s wife’s brother, but not to his knowledge. With assorted other albums (Traffic’s John Barleycorn and CCR’s Green River being the other notables), he had moved out and left about a dozen albums behind to an unknown fate. Aqualung was initially striking due to the anachronistic musical leanings of English madrigals, built over Brit folk and/or progressive rock. An oddity. Nevertheless, the use of flute as a lead instrument was refreshing, as was lead singer Ian Anderson’s pronounced English accent. It was also striking in that my record needle hit scratches that dispelled any sense of a groove. You get what you pay for.

But, even without scratches, the album just never sounded that good. Sure, radio airplay kept “Aqualung” and “Locomotive Breath” in front of me, but other than the tune, I never bothered to really listen, even with a “Best of” CD, where the sound had been somewhat improved.

About 30 years later after my first full listen, it was time for a full revisit, not coincidentally at the same time as a full remaster of the classic album by someone with proven skills.

I’m not going to “review” the album, much. There’s 40 years of reviews out there. I will say that this new edition is well worth it for anyone who likes Jethro Tull. The music is finally heard – ringing acoustic guitar, flute tone, percussion thumps and rings, gritty electric guitar leads, clear piano... all without sacrificing the 1971 era “sound.” Kudos to Porcupine Tree’s Steven Wilson, who remastered the recording from the original tapes. After this and King Crimson’s older works, I’d like him to tackle early Genesis...

The end result here, though, is makes the whole thing listenable. If you only played the record for “the hits,” you probably wouldn’t have cared much about the rest of the songs. Now that it’s listenable, the entirety is quite enjoyable. I not only could make out the lyrics, I wanted to. Then at 23 years old, Ian Anderson wrote very good prose, meaningful in ways that other “progressive rock” bands didn’t even consider on their quest for over-reaching banality. Anderson considers the treatment of the poor, the ethics of taking from the rich, the societal neglect of taking care of others, the inconsistency within a relationship, the God question...

So, things I take away:

1. ”Aqualung” – it’s a strange name. I can now hear the explanation for it, and Anderson even helpfully explains in the new liner notes. As he was considering living on the street, he imagined that the person would be of ill health, with pneumonia type symptoms, thus the lyric “Hey and you snatch your rattling last breaths, with deep-sea diver sounds.” It’s still a different character name.

2. In an age where it seems most fans demand jaw dropping instrumental virtuosity, this band, if it’s had, doesn’t show it. Instead, the CD makes a very compelling case of, first and foremost, how well Anderson had worked out the songs prior to the band’s contributions, but also how well musicians can contribute when they buy into the vision. The whole is greater than the parts – viewed within each song or the album as a whole.

3. The liner notes indicate that in the same studio at the same time, Led Zeppelin was recording their 4th album. I wonder what other occasions there have been where two landmark albums were recorded at the same time. Led Zep clearly go the better recording room.

4. The bonus disk includes alternative versions of some songs plus others not included on the original release. Most interesting, though, was a radio ad which, to be in context, deserves a reminder that the year was 1971. In this, Anderson remarks, “I was really trying to destroy the last vestiges of the old God concept that i was brought up with.” And, he follows with “Anybody who has a god, while i respect the God, i don’t respect the person unless he can show me concrete evidence of why he’s adopted this god.”

That’s signals an uncertainty between faith and agnosticism, but it makes for a decidedly religiously themed album. As clearly as Anderson pushes off the trappings of religion, namely the Church of England,he affirms the God concept just the same. From “Wind Up” and "My God,” respectively:

So I left there in the morning
with their God tucked underneath my arm --
their half-assed smiles and the book of rules.
So I asked this God a question
and by way of firm reply,
He said -- I'm not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.

He is the God of nothing
If that's all that you can see
You are the God of everything
He's inside you and me
So lean upon him gently
And don't call on him to save you
From your social graces
And the sins you used to waive

These were brave words then, but relevant words even today, given the difficulties that major denominations are having maintaining membership amidst a spiritually desirous society that seeks more options... The Devil, it might be said, is in the details, as those options not only refer to distancing from entrenched church authorities or even traditional worship experience, but also to new gods, new beliefs and different, if not absent, accountabilities.

Day Trip (with a camera)

noreply@blogger.com (Reese) — Sat, 10 Mar 2012 05:31:00 +0000

I used to drive a lot on business, generally before the age of digital cameras. It was a peaceful time, a private time even, to enjoy the simple pleasures of driving. Music CDs, books on tape, AM or FM radio… or silence to accompany me. I might be thinking about my next appointment, or my thoughts my drift elsewhere.

In either case, there were frequently things that I would see off to the side of the road that made me wish I had a camera. Some were scenic, some were funny, some I just thought might be interesting to share with my wife. But I didn’t have a camera, and I often didn’t have time to stop anyway.

Times have changed. Digital pictures cost nothing, and leaving an hour early left ample time to stop and take a picture whenever I wanted. Why not?

The following pictures were taken on a Canon G-11, processed in Adobe Camera RAW, cropped and altered in Photoshop, and exported to my iPhone to be toyed with using the Camera+ App. Photoshop was used as I might for any photo, short of putting in a fake blue sky. Camera+ was used for effect, evidenced largely by increased color saturation and the rather simple addition of picture “frames.” Pairings include both versions, and any picture can be enlarged by double-clicking.

“Alabama Welcomes You” along a rural road. The only welcome center facilities are scattered pines.

Almost all fireworks are illegal in Georgia. Therefore, they’re sold just across the State line in neighboring States. This road was no different.

Careful as you drive as you never know when the trees will ambush you.

Remains of houses, barns, and mobile homes are plentiful for photo ops. I prefer brick. This home site is apparently used by youth for camp fires and who knows what. It’s not exactly a hidden location, being adjacent to a State road. When I see these, I can’t help but wonder who livered there and how the property came to be in the condition that it is in.

There’s nothing like adding a little country quaintness than a paddle wheel. They’re frequently added to all sorts of buildings, like apartment complex clubhouses, for visual appeal, I would surmise. Well, it worked on me. The wheel might actually turn, but it’s decorative only.

We don’t see much of Quonset huts any more. I’m sure some enterprising person can find someone in China to make them and export them here.

Speaking of cheap metal, I happened upon this exclusive opportunity for a prototype Toyota. You can tell it’s a prototype because, uh, there’s no license plate, the spoiler is handcrafted of metal of barely sturdier stuff than aluminum foil, and there’s Bondo aplenty. Like the alteration to the car, there’s just no way to make this picture look better. But I couldn’t help but share.

Along this route, or most every route in the South, there are frequently churches. The below humored me.

Nearby, there was another building whose styling is no longer made. Watch your step leaving the 2nd floor door, by the way.

The drive was obviously rural, with occasional scenic vistas of valleys, streams, lakes, and such as this.

One road side resident has a woodworking hobby, selling birdhouses, chairs, tables, bird feeders, etc. These are displayed alongside the road to bait passing photographers.

Some observations come as no surprise, namely the allegiance that many Southrons have for certain 19th century flags. The below picture is a trifecta of a peculiar sort, with the concrete filled tires as make-do bases, a symbolically divisive flag, and another lawn ornament in the background just as likely to offend, never mind the cardboard “curtains.”

Comments welcome.

Antico Pizza, Atlanta, GA

noreply@blogger.com (Reese) — Thu, 08 Mar 2012 02:13:00 +0000

I am not a pizza critic. I find most chain delivery pizzas perfectly edible. That said, I do prefer the aromas and ambience of most pizza restaurants. Or, I just like to eat out.

A coworker found THE best pizza restaurant in Atlanta, which compares favorably with the BEST pizza restaurants in the northeast, from which he comes. Mhmm. He eats out a lot, and I generally respect his opinions.

A kid, oops, young adult, I hired, ventured downtown on a weekend jaunt and reported to me that he found THE BEST pizza in Atlanta, which was almost as good as THE BEST pizza he’s ever had, during his one trip to Manhattan. He’s from UCLA, that being the Ugliest Corner of Lower Alabama. His opinions… taken with the spirit in which they’re intended.

Antico Pizza

VIEW SLIDE SHOW

DOWNLOAD ALL

Still, that’s two recommendations for exceptional pizza, at a location very near to the GA Tech campus at which my daughter attends. Therefore, with the wife, the son, the college sophomore, and her boyfriend, off we go on the adventure.

Antico Pizza doesn’t look like much from the outside. Parking is limited, and it’s located on a street where Tech students are regularly liberated of their personal belongings if they happen to be walking after 11 p.m.

But we didn’t go after 11 p.m. Upon arrival, we found the pizza to be fairly crowded, and we just went with the flow. First, to the counter where upon the cashier was very helpful in recommending their more popular pizzas for first timers.

We ordered a Margherita pizza, with pepperoni for more substance, and a San Gennaro, which included red peppers and sausage. Pizzas are one size fits all, which summed 2 for the 5 of us. Beverages, unfortunately, are limited to overpriced, undersized colas and other bottled drinks. In any case, it’s a simple process.

With others behind, we move forward, following others, past one large family dining style table into the larger room… where there are more family style tables. We stand against the wall, in a line of sorts, waiting for a spot for 5 to open. Before this happens, a lady approaches with a baking pan with our two pizzas, looks over the crowded tables, and leads us to our table, which heretofore might have been assumed to be a prep table. There are no chairs, but the manager (owner?) politely points out the “VIP” colored on a corner, and… it’s true. We dine while watching the pizzas being made, literally a couple feet away.

This includes a bit of kneading, a hand toss, a smattering of the base, and some of the freshest tasting toppings I’ve ever had on a pizza, plus a lot of good humor amongst the kitchen staff. That’s important as there are no dividing walls between those preparing and those eating. Instant “atmosphere.” It’s rather interesting to watch the chef as he uses a long handled “peel” to quickly turn the pizza within the wood fired oven, gracefully warming the dough and lifting it to the upper reaches with regular motions. They’re assembled and cooked in just a few minutes.

Much care is given to preserving the Napoletana traditions, studied by the owners in Italy. Everything seems suitably authentic, less a foreign country and a foreign language. Those going should probably anticipate spending $12 or so per person, depending whether or not you buy a drink (a cup of water is free). With our surprisingly hungry crew, perfect hindsight suggests spending even more, should you bring along your daughter’s 6’6” boyfriend.

(It may be 5 starts, but I still hope there’s better out there).

What’s in Your Back Yard?

noreply@blogger.com (Reese) — Wed, 07 Mar 2012 03:56:00 +0000

With a spouse who has an Economic Zoology (wildlife management) degree and a heavy lean towards the artistic, I finally came up with an original idea for a Christmas gift.

As it happens, our back yard is a magnet for animals, as a river is a natural barrier to wildlife, further evidenced by a worn path that hints at regular traffic.

Further, our dogs bark at night when we put them on the deck. They’re not just barking to be let in faster, right? Surely, there’s something out there.

That’s a trail camera, used by hunters to monitor feed lots or other areas where they want to scout the type of animal activity that passes through. Battery powered, with a 8MB SD memory card. The camera is motion activated, with a 45’ range, taking 3 shots when triggered. It can take video, which we may yet do.

So, let’s see what’s out there.

You would probably expect deer. Not a bad photo.

There were tons of photos that featured slowly migrating deer. Not exactly exciting. Feeding deer, still deer, deer tails, deerleted. On my computer anyway.

Off to the right on the next photo is the tell-tail sign of raccoon.

The pictures at night get an assist from an invisible LED flash. Cool, eh? Well, how about a fox?

We think it’s a fox, anyway, based on this and other motion blurred pictures. Or, do we have foxes? A few days later… may be the same… maybe not.

Or, it could be a dainty coyote, unlike the following:

That’s not a dainty coyote. A close-up reveals that we have rabbits as well. Or had.

And, finally, we have a surprising addition, a bobcat.

Those are spots, not just a grainy shot. And all of this in a suburb of Atlanta, on a cul-de-sac lot in a regular ol’ neighborhood. You just never know.

Now, if we can just get the bobcat, or fox, to strike a pose. Silly deer.

The Barry Band – Yawnin’ in the Dawnin’

noreply@blogger.com (Reese) — Sat, 03 Mar 2012 03:11:00 +0000

There is a time and a season for… writing reviews. And the season for this release is almost passed, as such things go. As someone who very much enjoys music and who has devoted a fair amount of time to listening and writing about it, it’s sort of a “dream” that producers etc. would find my little ol’ blog and bless me with free music to review.

Well, a label didn’t. But, a band did, and did so about the time I posted about Asheville’s Belle Chere festival… the city to which the band would soon be arriving to perform… last summer.

So, Yawnin’ in the Dawnin’ has hung around on my “things to write about” list, a list which does not actually exist. And this is unfortunate, because, had I made time to listen to this at the time, it might have mattered, somehow. So, Barrys, if you’re out there, I apologize.

One reason why “indie” music appeals is that it doesn’t play to expectations of labels that try to direct a band’s sound towards certain profit. For some bands, that type of influence can actually be good. For others, their voice and vision is worthy of being heard outside of those influences… Badly Drawn Boy, The Flaming Lips, Belle & Sebastian come to mind. And The Barry Band.

The EP opens with an indie spirit, an a cappella rendition of the title song, itself sung to them as children by their father. Humorous. Off-beat.

“For Your Own Good” is enthusiastic in its delivery, with acoustic guitar and harmonica driving the pace. Unfortunately, the song sounds hurriedly put together, the harmonies detracting from the refrain, begging the question of indie vs amateur. Additionally, whether eating vegetables is a wise theme to follow a message of going to bed on time is up to the listener. But, at least it’s quirky.

And speaking of which, The Barrys roll quirky into a masterpiece on the following song, “Carnival(e).’ This song, captured in a low cost but effective video (at the end of this review), suggests that their humor is real. Perhaps the first two tracks were well intended humor to fill out the digital space before arriving at what they’re capable of making.

“Three Years in Carolina” harkens to the honesty of mid-70’s rock n’ roll, both lyrically and musically. There’s nothing exceptional about it, but there’s nothing not to like about it either. It could have been a minor FM hit back when radio mattered.

The humor returns with “Drink One More,” including a tale of origins by each of the brothers. Aside from proving their vocal prowess after the first two offerings, it’s now clear they know how to change up a song’s pace to keep it interesting, and they structure the tone of the music to suit the lyrics. That’s no small thing.

The good stuff continues with “Love Something Too Much,” another well constructed, pleasing song that is iPod ready for those who enjoy light rock with good harmonies. Classic feel-good music here.

And then, the CD comes to its end, but not a fitting one. In the vein of all the 80’s heavy metal acts that felt obligated to include one soft-hearted love song in the midst of the mayhem, the Barrys close on a syrupy ballad that disappoints, sacrificing their humor and musical inventiveness for a “paint by the numbers” approach.

Still, there’s much to like here, and the quirky factor, while maintaining a pop sensibility, is a refreshing update to the folk inspired music. At the moment, a free download can be obtained HERE.

Dark Star Orchestra – Live at Variety Playhouse

noreply@blogger.com (Reese) — Mon, 27 Feb 2012 00:10:00 +0000

With my son in the Winter Break doldrums, I searched for a concert outing to give him a lift. Step 1: Look at the concert calendar at my favorite Atlanta venue: Variety Playhouse.

Dark Star Orchestra… a band that plays complete Grateful Dead concerts with the songs in the sequence in which they were first played. This particular Saturday evening, they played the Dead’s 6/29/76 concert from the Auditorium Theatre in Chicago, IL, plus some extras. These things matter to Dead Heads.

I’m not a Dead Head. My son is not either. Or his best friend, who tagged along.

I’m familiar with about 3 or 4 of their songs, and none of those were played on 6/29/76. Maybe if I had caught DSO on another night… because per their website, they play a different show each time they play. And, this was their 20th show in 25 days. That’s quite a repertoire. Note: If you’re going to make a career as a cover band, choose someone like The Go-Go’s. Hour and 40 minutes, and you’re done. Pink Floyd? Maybe two hours. The Grateful Dead? Hour and a half. Then an intermission. Then play for another hour and a half. 20 shows in 25 days? They didn’t show it.

Did they sound like the Grateful Dead? Likely very similar. Did their mannerisms match those of the original band members? I don’t know, but a chance encounter with a friend at the show suggested that they did. Was it a good show? Definitely. It was sold out for a reason.

I was curious as to who would attend a Dead cover band show. Old Dead Heads? Or new Dead Heads? Both, and in between. Musically, they were entertaining. When musicians play others’ music, presumably note for note, I guess it’s a credit to the Dead. In any case, guitarist/singer Jeff Mattson’s solos were varied and interesting, and the other musicians (keyboards, bass, rhythm guitar, two drums, female singer) rounded out the spectrum nicely. The band had a very relaxed pace between songs. What was interesting is that the guitarists played the same guitars the entire show, and with minimal foot pedal gimmickry. That’s rare these days.

One of the perils of standing about 5 hours on a concrete floor, besides an aching back, is the unexpected movement of the concert goers. A 5’8 250 pound guy suddenly swerves in circular motions, clearing space. A very much enraptured couple dance closely and suggestively enough to… Others suddenly bend forward to light an illicit drug. And not just the young guys, but the mid-50’s guy who I’d peg as a fed up corporate drone, and the 60+ year old gentleman who apparently still enjoys his youth. Then there’s the guy who, although 20 years younger, must also have a bad back because he shifts constantly from left to right, pushing others away inch by inch. Bah, whatever. At least I didn’t have a 6’6 inch person stand in front, and I do like to see up close. The crowd is part of the experience, and they were experiencing just what they wanted – rock n’ roll, drugs, and at least a promise of sex later. Parting comment here. If a guy brings a date, and she’s at best, 5’5”, does it really make sense to take her to the floor area where she has no chance of a view? Just asking.

I’m still not a Dead Head, but it was a fine Saturday evening.

Set list:

Tennessee Jed
Cassidy
Peggy-O
Mama Tried
Mission In The Rain
Looks Like Rain
Brown Eyed Women
Lazy Lightnin'
Supplication
Row Jimmy
The Music Never Stopped > Might As Well

Intermission

Samson And Delilah
Candyman
Playing In The Band > The Wheel > Playing In The Band Reprise
Saint Stephen > Not Fade Away > Saint Stephen > One More Saturday Night

Encore: U.S. Blues (complete 1976 show)

Extras: Easy Wind > Going Down The Road Feeling Bad

25th Work Anniversary

noreply@blogger.com (Reese) — Fri, 24 Feb 2012 02:31:00 +0000

First grade:

Teacher: “And what do you want to be when you grow up?”
Reese: “I don’t know.”
Teacher: “Do you want to be a fireman? A police officer? A doctor?”
Reese: “No, that’s far too common, silly teacher. I want to be a Loss Control Engineer!”
Teacher: “A what?”

And for the last 25 years, that’s the question I have to answer when people ask what I do. Today marks my 25th year with the same employer. Strangely enough, I remember within a month of starting my job, I was sitting at the equivalent of a school desk, reading very boring introductory manuals, and being rather taken by the office decor – tan desks, green carpets, burgundy walls. It was an open floor plan as their were no cubes “back in those days,” and I thought to myself, “I could work here forever.”

Prophetic? Forever is a long time. I hope to leave someday at a time of my choosing rather than some type of fatal event. Many would say that I am an anachronism, a 21st century employee who has worked for exactly one employer since leaving college. And statistics would prove them right.

The “job” has changed over the years, beyond an eventual change in responsibilities to a managing role. But the work that I (or we) do remains very much the same, even if packaged in different means and metrics. We’ve expanded our resources, hired better people, and vastly improved the quality and consistency of what we do. We have demonstrable results that impact company profits.

Those changes over the years are far more important than technological changes from mail>fax>email>cell or paper files/manuals/workshops to e-everything. Looking back, I’m aware of these changes and expect more of them. But, technological changes are not meaningful regarding a job experience. They’re facilitators, and, honestly, dictation wasn’t so bad way back when.

A 401(k) program existed when I was hired. The notion was that it put retirement funding into the hands of individuals who, even in 1987, were expected to change jobs, possibly many times, during their career. Funded retirement plans were already on the way out. I look around at many others in my division, and it seems that we didn’t get the memo on that particular shift in cultural norms. It speaks well both of my employer and the job satisfaction that comes from my occupation that many of the people I work with today have tenures as long or longer than mine, which is especially notable in a corporate culture that does not favor place-holders. We’re measurably productive.

At 25 years also comes a natural reflection on the term “company loyalty.” I have not thought a whole lot about it, at least until the recent barrage of well wishers remarking on a quarter century in one place. There has always been an understanding between me, myself, and I that the company would employ me for as long as it was worthwhile to do so, and I would work for them as long as I felt it was worthwhile to do so. That’s not loyalty; that’s an agreement. I see it as factual, though I’m sure many who have experienced the negative outcomes of that philosophy would consider it callous or worse.

I have gotten to know a lot of people - in my department, in other departments, in our Home Office, in many other offices. I’m mindful of it almost every day when I greet people in the halls and elsewhere. I’m wired in to the place. Those relationships represent an organizational reach that allows me to get things done – better – faster – more constructively. That’s at least one benefit of longevity, but not a factor in loyalty.

I know these people because of my interactions with them through the years. I have opinions about each of them built on work experience. The flip side of this professional judgment of others is that I’m also particularly aware of my own “brand.” I don’t know exactly what others think of me. To some extent, that will vary depending on the duration and frequency of personal interactions which guide or shape their conclusions about my value. But, even a brief interaction, positive or negative, can lift or derail a career. It wasn’t until year 15 or so that someone coached me to an awareness that others’ perceptions should not be passively allowed, but actively shaped. Whatever my “brand” currently is, I’m confident it could purchase a passport for me to go elsewhere, but it’s not exportable itself. It would take time to validate, if not recreate. Still, personal evolution or related achievements are not a reason for or a consequence of company loyalty.

Some would point towards longevity with an employer as a failure to maximize my capital potential. Does this result from a conservative nature that is afraid to risk stepping in potentially greener grass? Perhaps. But, I know my lawn very, very well. It’s not just a matter of comfort; it’s the result of investment. There’s been a lot of seeding, watering, mowing, raking… and, of course, fertilizer. This company has a good thing going, and I, on most days, actually enjoy my work.

Up until I interviewed for the job, I really had no idea what this particular occupation was about, and, in fact, it would take years to fully understand it. There’s a difference between “work” and “vocation.” Some people are naturally led into a profession with a calling. Most are not. But within one’s lifespan, the “work” should add to the richness of one’s life, while necessarily affording it as well. And what a rich job this has been. It has offered an amazing platform to learn – people, places, businesses, industries, ideas – a career perfect for a person who enjoys absorbing and contemplating everyday experiences. It’s a bonus that it’s a role that at the point of delivery is designed to help others from physical and financial harm. I’ve thus neatly summed up what is an occupation loyalty, but not company loyalty.

For those who know me from work and may venture to these lines, it’s pretty obvious that I’m just tossing pebbles in a pond rather than getting to the inevitable point. The people. I like skipping rocks. Patience.

Companies, like governments or other institutions, are not paper tigers. From a transactional level, one’s opinion of any organization is informed by the value demonstrated by its people. Internally, it’s the same. Working with others is just as much a transaction, and employees depend upon each other for value at every point of need, else the delivery is flawed.

A recent understanding is that liking the people I work with has far less to do with my job satisfaction than I might have otherwise thought. It certainly helps, and it does play a large role in enjoying work on a day to day basis. But over the long term, respecting coworkers at any and every level in the organization is far more important. An abbreviated definition of “quality outcome” is to do the right thing the right way. We have more than our share of people who do both, consistently, and, ultimately, it is my confidence in the collective talents of so many that keeps me here. They position me for success, or, viewed oppositely, they minimize frustrations. It’s the type of environment in which I, and I would hope all, would want to work.

Therefore, it saddens me when coworkers – great employees, whether “friends” or not – retire, even while I’m happy for them. The workplace is not as it was.

It wounds me when fine professionals leave for other opportunities. I know that there are logical reasons for promotions, wages, relocations due to life changes, etc. And there are certainly frustrations or pressures that motivate some to leave. But, I want to work with the best people, and as such, it frustrates me when they choose not to remain here. When they leave, the workplace, in some idyllic fashion, is not as it should be.

Incoming talent matters. It thrills me when younger minds enter and leap forward in their abilities. I’m finally wizened to the point that I can teach things not found in e-learning, and I feel the organizational necessity of doing just that. The workplace is always becoming.

25 years is very much a reflection on aging, and it mirrors observations through other phases of life, from school, to family, to other activities. Like everything else, work is generational, a term which now speaks equally to what is ahead as it does to what is behind.

It’s been a challenging and rewarding 25 years. As in counting birthdays, the only negatives come when numbers are put to it. It wasn’t so long ago that other coworkers had their 25th anniversaries, only, they’ve more recently celebrated 30 and 35 years. Time flies, and I really don’t want to absorb or contemplate that just now. I’ve got other things to do so I can go to bed and get up for work in the morning.

To all that have played a role, thank you.