New Orleanzz

Last weekend I took a spontaneous trip down to New Orleans to visit my good friend, Miss Anderson Stockdale. It was a great trip. Andy is a fabulous tour guide. Aside from gorging myself on the sweets of the South (beignets, pralines, etc.), and being amazing by the burly trees that tower of the bird-filled swamps, I was most impressed by the music.

The music is everywhere in New Orleans. It was astounding. And not just music, but jazz music. … In the bars, in the streets, doesn’t matter. I don’t think I heard any other kind of music than jazz (or specifically dixieland) music while I was there. I’m used to a more anything-goes state of mind from street performers–bad renditions of Coldplay songs, tribal drums & wooden flute, a lone saxophone squeaking out some notes, a slouchy guitar player with white-boy dreads, a karaoke box hooked up to a tiny amp with harmonica overlaid. … Really. Anything. … So, it was quite refreshing to see buskers in the streets playing decent-to-amazing jazz music. Just putting it right out there.

But as inspiring as this was, there was also another perplexing phenomenon that provoke a lot of reflection for me.

So, the first night I was there, Thursday night, we went to a little dive bar where a small combo + singer was playing: Miss Meschiya Lake & The Little Big Horns. This band I loved. I loved the cathartic honesty of the singer, I loved the stoic witticism of the drummer, I loved the playful facility of the guitar player. … And moreover, I loved the way they played *with* each other. Not just, “hey you take this solo, he gets the next, and we all meet up for the chorus at the end.” I saw happy-musician things like, the supporting non-solo instruments not just chugging along with chords and rhythm, but adding in little commentary riffs in response to the solo on deck. Yes, this band made me happy. … And their followers loved them, too. Dancers were dancing, bar-goers were toe-tapping. Good times were had by all.

Another night, another bar, another band. This time, I was not impressed. The bass player was rhythmically sloppy, the clarinet was pinched and whiny, the trumpet was stiff, and the guitar player was–well, he was, that was all. To me, the musicians were not as proficient nor were they as aware of those they were playing with. I did not feel the same sense of joy and elation of spirit as I did with Meschiya & her Big Horns. … However, when I looked around, the crowd had an identical reaction as I wrote before. Two different bands, same crowd reaction. In face, it was possible that people were *more* excited about this (in my opinion, sub-par) band.

It was so surreal to me. I wanted to speak out, “Don’t you see? Don’t you get it? Why don’t you appreciate the good music you have?” … And I realized, it’s not exactly that they don’t appreciate the music. They very obviously love the fact that New Orleans is so rich with live music. And it’s not that they take it for granted. But the people who surrounded me have such a different way of responding to music than I do.

People in New Orleans seem to respond to the energy of the music, the jubilance,  and to the heritage & tradition of New Orleans jazz music. And not necessarily to mastery of skill. … I’m not saying this is wrong. It’s definitely part of the culture down there.  … But, all in all, I still like my way, and I’m not sure I could hear it any differently.

16 Things

That “16 Things” meme that’s been going around Facebook.

What to do:
Write 16 things about yourself. (I guess they’re supposed to be interesting, or not-well-known.) Tag some friends. (If you get tagged, technically, you’re supposed to do this meme, too.) Make sure you tag the person who tagged you.

Here we go …

1. I love palindromes. … Words, names, sentences. Geometry and symmetry. And especially rhythmical palindromes.

2. I hate the smell of freshly cut grass.  … Which apparently is “odd” since the rest of the world seems to love it.

3. I cannot look at a mirror in the dark. It freaks me out. … I think this comes from my childhood best friend and I playing at sleepovers at her house, and her telling me about that game/myth/story Bloody Mary, where you’re supposed to go into a bathroom with a candle, spin around 3 times, and say Bloody Mary’s name 3 times or something. Then you’re supposed to see her in the mirror.   … Anyway. Mirrors in the dark still freak the shit out of me.

4. Before I wanted to be a musician, I wanted to be an architect.

5. My ancestor Sven Hedin was a famous explorer. He produced some of the first detailed maps of vasts parts of Pamir, Tibet, the Silk Road, and the Himalayas. He was also probably the first explorer to realize the the Himalayas were one mountain range. … He wrote a book. You can buy it on Amazon. I forget what relation he is exactly to me (my great great … whatever), but my grandfather has it written down in the family tree.

6. I’m a member of Tree Climbers International.  I have my own gear: harnesses, carabiners, helmets, and a couple 200 ft ropes. Sadly, it’s a hobby I don’t get to pursue much anymore.

7. I can hear high electrical frequencies. … Like, for example, if a TV is on but muted, it drives me crazy. Or I can walk down a street and tell you which houses are watching TV. My dad had the same thing; he used to be able to hear the changing of traffic lights (they make them differently these days).

8. I have never broken a bone.

9. You know that 2 against 3 rhythm that swing band drummers use so often, especially when concluding their drumb solos?  … I can walk/clap/speak 5 against 4 against 3 against 2.

10. I once convinced a girl at summer camp that I had no idea what a crocodile was (even though I knew what an alligator was, and even though I had been to the Okefenokee Swamp).  As a child, I was never good at telling fibs, which really annoyed me, because so many of my friends were good at it. I always seemed to give myself away by giggling. So I decided to do this at summer camp just to see if I could. … It worked. Still not sure why.

11. There was a point in my life when I could recite the entire libretto from The Phantom of the Opera.

12. As a kid, my nickname was “Kate the Kisser.” … Not because I actually kissed anyone. But because I learned early on, that in kindergarden, boys were afraid of kisses (who knows why), which is a really useful thing to know when trying to claim the tire swing for the girls.

13. I have performed (solo) for and been broadcasted on NPR.

14. I taught myself how to circular breath. … That’s when (usually playing a wind instrument) you breath out your mouth, but still take in air through your nose. It’s a fun party trick, because I can blow bubbles through a straw into a glass of water forever.

15. I have completed the expert minesweeper game in 97 seconds.

16. I have never owned a car. … Okay, that’s not true. I actually owned a car for about 2 weeks in college. The dancers of Cleveland knew my lack-of-car status well, so when one guy was going to get rid of his car, he offered it to me for free, as is. … It was a stick shift. So I learned to drive stick, in the snow, in Cleveland, and never stalled it once til I had to parallel park. That night I drove my roommates to the movies. Two weeks later the clutch gave out. Seeing as I did not have the money to buy a new clutch + service, I sold the car to a dude at the auto shop for $100. … So, I guess I made a hundred bucks out of the deal.

Music Shuffle Meme

1. put the ipod on shuffle
2. use it to answer the question
3. hit “next”
4. try not to cheat

(my music collection sans swing music, jazz, or classical)
Some of these are rather amusing!

1. How am I feeling today?
Day is Done — Nick Drake

2. How far will I get in life?
Lucky — Radiohead

3. What is my best friend’s theme song?
Place to Be — Nick Drake

4. What was high school like?
Because — Beatles

5. How will today be?
Complainte De La Butte — Rufus Wainwright

6. What is in store for me this weekend?
The One You Love — Rufus Wainwright

7. What is the best thing about me?
Old Friends — Simon & Garfunkle

8. What song describes my parents?
Someone is Waiting — Neutral Milk Hotel

9. How is my life going?
There’s Always Someone Cooler Than You — Ben Folds

10. What song will they play at my funeral?
No Surprises — Radiohead

11. How does the world see me?
Barcarolle — Tom Waits

12. What do my friends think of me?
Where You’ll Find Me Now — Neutral Milk Hotel

13. Do people secretly think I’m good looking?
Lover’s Spit — Broken Social Scene

14. How can I make myself happy?
The Lover’s Waltz — Bill Staines

15. What should I do with my life?
Everything in it’s Right Place — Radiohead

16. What is some good advice?
Summer in the City — Regina Spektor

17. Will I get married?
Falling Aeroplanes –Darren Hanlon

18. Where will I go in life?
Song for Myla Goldberg — The Decemberists

19. Will I have kids?
Want — Rufus Wainwright

20. What is my current theme song?
I’m Sticking With You — The Velvet Underground

Human Decency

I’m currently at my parent’s home down in Atlanta for the holidays.

I still get a fair amount of mail at this address, because any time I had to give an address in college, I gave my Atlanta address (since I was moving around so much). My mother kindly collects my mail–even though most of the letters, offers, invitations have expired by the time she gives them to me–and puts them in a pile on my bed when I come home.

This time, a few days before I came home, my mother called me and told me that a letter had arrived by priority mail, sign-on-delivery, for me. Thinking that it might be something business related or time sensative, she called to let me know about it. However, when she read the name on the address sticker, it was not one I was familiar with.

My first day in Atlanta, my mother hands me this letter. Again, no lightbulbs upon seeing the return-address name. I opened the letter and found a check and this note inside:

Dear Ms. Katherine
Your check was found on the floor of Miss Shirley’s Restraunt in Baltimore Maryland. I’m returing it to you.

Sure enough, the check I saw was in my own handwriting (with my Atlanta address still unchanged in the upper left hand corner), made out to my roommate for December rent. … We had already presumed the check lost in the abyss of antique chairs in our household, and I had issued her a new check. But this solves the mystery of what actually happened to it.

Thank you, kind, decent person.

This is not for you.

This is for me.

I needed to write this down somewhere. To make it more real. It’s just something I need to remember.

Maybe one day I will tell you…

Why I hate the South

This past week, I went down to Atlanta to visit my family for Thanksgiving (as I mentioned in the previous blog). Atlanta itself isn’t such a bad place to grow up. But being in the generic South again reminded me just how much I hate about the South:

1. Every 3 out of 4 cars is either an SUV or a truck. … Dear Atlanta, no wonder you ran out of gas.

2. The way people pronounce the days of the week: “Mun-dee”, “Tews-dee”, “Wens-dee”, “Therrs-dee”, “Fry-dee”, “Sat’-dee”, “Sun-dee”

3. I was out on Saturday night with a group of people–friends of a friend–at a bar. Shortly after I got there, the troops seemed to get restless, and decided to move to another bar. I realized that this was not because they didn’t like the drinks there, or for any other reason that the fact that there was a rather sizable group of gay men at the bar, including a couple of drag queens. I literally hear one of the (male) members of our table say, “yeah, I went to the bathroom, and I tell ya man, I felt more comfortable going into the women’s bathroom than the men’s.”  WTF????? I hate the South.  … So, these people left this bar, and literally went to the bar next door. Just one door away, because they were too insecure to be in the same room as a group of homosextual guys.

Reasons like these make me so glad I do not live down South anymore.

Thanksgiving

This is not the blog where I expound on what I’m thankful for this year.  We’re all thankful for our friends, family, loved ones, and various other bits of our lives. Those that I’m thankful for, I try to let them know.

This blog is about traditions.

The things I think about when I think about Thanksgiving, are the traditions we’ve made. … Watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on TV. Dinner (like, Southern dinner, ie. at 1:00pm) with the family–parents, grandparents, uncle, aunt, & cousin (from my dad’s side). And watching the “Lighting of the Great Tree”–an Atlanta tradition that takes place at Lenox Square.

Sadly, time has worn these down for me. Thanksgiving just isn’t what it used to be.

I missed the Macy’s Parade, because we had to leave earlier than usual to meet up with my grandparents. This is not a big loss as I’m no longer looking forward to seeing Santa at the end of the road. And I was never really impressed with the “acts” on the various floats passing by. But still, it did start my day off a little lacking. There just wasn’t that good ol’ Thanksgiving feel to my morning.

Next came Thanksgiving dinner. This was the biggest disappointment to me. I understand all the reasons behind it, but, well … Okay, in the past, we’ve always gone over to my grandparent’s house (my father’s parents), for this feast. There was always the turkey, sometimes a ham as well, and all the fixin’s: mashed potatoes, green beans, homemade macaroni and cheese, rolls, corn, done up real Southern style. Sadly, I had no family-cooked meal to look forward to. This year, we ate at the Colonnade. I think this review sums it up just about the way I feel:

Since 1927 this roadside family dining establishment has been serving up traditional southern meals to loyal patrons. I wasn’t thrilled with all of the meal, and the senior citizen waitstaff made me feel like time would stand still forever. But the accompaniments to my turkey dinner were fresh tasting and loaded with fat, grease and other unhealthy pleasures. I think I’d pass on the turkey, though. I’m not sure I believe the waiter who said that it was freshly roasted on the premises. It tasted more like microwave reheated Hormel. The pecan pie was serviceable, but that’s not going to cut it when I’m visiting Atlanta.

It’s just not the same. Eating at a restaurant for Thanksgiving.

I understand that my grandparents are getting older, and not up for the task of preparing a full meal for several people. But we’ve offered to cater it for them–everyone bringing a dish to the table. But, alas, it did not fly. And this year, our (slightly) long table of family members was more square. Bobby was unable to join us, since he was with his family, my cousin was staying up in PA for the holiday, and sadly, this year, my aunt passed away.  … I guess it just felt weird to be able to have a conversation with every person at the table, since everyone was within talking-range this year.

And tonight. My parents and I usually rent a movie, which is always a relaxing way to recover from turkey death. And before popping in the DVD, we’ve always watched the Lighting of the Great Tree. It used to be that this Great Tree (a gigantic pine, wrapped in 82 miles of lights), was atop the Rich’s in downtown Atlanta. Sadly, that building has been torn down. So, they moved the traditional night’s extravaganza to the top of Macy’s at Lenox Square. The night was always filled with acts, performances, singers, etc. that lead up to when they flipped that switch and illuminated the tree. Well, tonight’s show was so horrible. So many terrible singers, who were attempting to sing Christmas songs “passionately” and therefore full of saccharine swells and strained high notes. And the only act that I was truly excited about seeing, Cirque du Solei, they cut off! So sad.

So, I’m left on this Thanksgiving night, with a rather blah feeling. Technically, nothing went “wrong” with the holiday. It just wasn’t what I remember, nor what I was looking forward to about this holiday.

Prop plane, wtf?

So, I fly a lot. I’ve been to a lot of cities. Hell, this fall I’ve been to 3 different countries (including France twice). So, what I’m trying to say, is I’ve seen a lot of airplanes.

This weekend, Bobby and I are teaching in Providence, RI. When we went to the airport, we had to walk to the very, very end of the terminal, and I remember thinking, “huh, I’ve never been this far down in the terminal before.” … What I didn’t realize was that there was a reason for this. When we walked outside, onto the tarmac, and I looked up after setting my curb-checked suitcase, what did I see, but a plane with propellers.

Our plane sat 37 people (40 people total, including the crew). I point out that it was 37–an odd number–because the last row (that’s row 9) was 5 seats across, like, back of a bus style. And guess who was sitting in that last row? Yep. We were. (huzzah for being one of the cool kids in the back of the bus! haha.) Luckily, neither of us were in that dreaded middle seat. I think I probably could have touched my luggage if I’d open the hatch behind my head.

Anyway. It was an experience. Though I was oscillating between “this is so awesome!” and “oh, we’re so gonna die,” I will say that it was a lot smoother than I anticipated that it would be. Complete with Bobby making lots of Casablanca references. … Looks like we’ll probably be on more propeller planes on the way home. I’ll keep you posted if I die.

A Night at the Symphony

Last night I went to the Symphony.
I honestly can’t remember the last time I did that. When you’re studying music at a conservatory, so immersed in it, every day and every night, the last think you want to do, is spend your free time listening to more of the same stuff you’re studying. It starts to feel like work. Which is unfortunate, but true.

One of my absolute favorite things to do in high school was go to the Symphony. It became almost a ritual for me and Erica back then. Every Thursday or Friday, we’d go downtown, have dinner at Houlihan’s and go hear whatever the ASO had to offer that night. We had a great deal, because back then, as Atlanta Symphony Youth Orchestra members, we got free tickets. Which we took blatant full advantage of.

So, yeah. It’s been quite a while since I’ve been to an orchestra concert, let alone paid money to! … But last night Stefan Jackiw was soloing with the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra. When I saw the advertisment for this concert program, for several reasons. 1) Mr. Jackiw is a phenomenal violinist, 2) he was to be playing the Beethoven violin concerto, an astounding work, and 3) Stefan and I played in a quartet together way back in high school, around 2000, at a summer music festival called Encore School for Strings.

Anyway. The Beethoven was lovely, of course. I’d expect nothing less from Stefan. He was always a very impressive violinist, never lax in either the technical or musical aspects of performing. For my taste some of the runs in his cadenzas seemed rushed, to the point where the individual notes were not what hit the ear, but the solid gesture of a flourish. But, nevertheless, this did display his technical prowess.

The Schumann was another story, however. … For the second half, the Baltimore Symphony performed Schcumann’s 4th Symphony, in D Minor. It’s a fairly short symphony, with all four movements leading, without pause, into the next. It’s not widely known, and was never popular in it’s day. But it’s a rather nice work, and I get the feeling that it would be a piece that would grow on me–not necessarily making the greatest of first impressions, but definitely substantial enough that there’s some intrigue. Unfortunately, the orchestra didn’t do it justice in my opinion. For one, I don’t know if they didn’t like this guest conductor, or were just unfamiliar with his style, but there were large passages where they were simply not with him. And I counted on numerous occasions where the back of the first violin section came in noticeably early. The bulk of the piece ran alright, but it was just that–it ran; it went. There was nothing special there. And it didn’t seem that the sections of the orchestra were all that concerned with other sections of the orchestra, unless the music was explicitly clear (for ex. a solo passage between the oboe and principal cello).

And the biggest disappointment was that the audience gave them a standing ovation. … Not deserved, in my opinion. It saddens me that a standing ovation is given out so freely these days. It makes me wonder whether the audience can’t tell the difference, or whether it’s become expected–like they would only not stand if it was truly bad. And furthermore, it seems that if the audience is willing to stand so easily, it would seem that there would be less and less reason for the orchestra to work harder. … Now, I’m not accusing the musicians of not wanting to play, or not being passionate, but a regular symphony gig is a job just like any other–it has it’s good days and it’s bad ones. Those days you get really excited about your work, and those days you’re counting down to the next weekend.

So, I hope you all, next time you’re at the symphony, not just to blindly sit there politely, nodding your head when you recognize there’s a beat. But to be more of an active listener. Watch, listen, read the program notes, observe, think, and wonder.

Schmap

So, today I got an email on my Flickr account that read:

Hi Kate,

I am writing to let you know that one of your photos has been short-listed for inclusion in the sixth edition of our Schmap Philadelphia Guide, to be published early December 2008.

While we offer no payment for publication, many photographers are pleased to submit their photos, as Schmap Guides give their work recognition and wide exposure, and are free of charge to readers. Photos are published at a maximum width of 150 pixels, are clearly attributed, and link to high-resolution originals at Flickr.

Our submission deadline is Tuesday, November 18. If you happen to be reading this message after this date, please still click on the link above (our Schmap Guides are updated frequently – photos submitted after this deadline will be considered for later releases).

Best regards,

Emma Williams,
Managing Editor, Schmap Guides

Has anyone ever heard of this before? I’m always wary on the internet of scams and whatnot, but this looks kind of legitimate. I went to the website, www.schmap.com, to check it out. It seems like it’s an online guide-book for lots of cities, in which there’s a map of a city with points of interest marked with flag-links. You can click on a flag and there’s a picture and a short blurb about that site in the city. Also, when following the link they gave me in the email they sent, it explained a little bit about the photo entries. (see picture above/right)

Anyway, if anyone’s ever heard of this, knows more information, or has gotten a similar email, please let me know. I’m kind of curious …

(btw, this is the picture they’re interested in.)