Frolic: jazz, books, food

Jazz, Books, Food, and the Writing Life

Blogging from New Orleans, La

30 August 2004

For the first time in two years, I’m back in the classroom. I picked up a few section of Spanish grammar classes at Tulane. It doesn’t pay much, but quite frankly neither do most other jobs in this city. The setting is ideal, with no more than ten students in either section. With class sizes that small, I can understand why they need an army of adjuncts.

After much consideration, I’ve decided to make another run at the academic job market. Teaching again, dealing with academic bureaucracy, and just walking among hoards of students has made me feel like an academic again. I have my Ph.D., so I no longer feel like a graduate student. Since I exist on the margins of the school, though, I certainly don’t feel like a faculty member either. It’s a more comfortable position, though, than being a graduate student, but perhaps that’s because it’s strictly a one-year status for me.

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29 August 2004

After much help from Podz in the Word Press support forum I’ve got Frolic working again. I even managed to get Word Press upgraded. Regular blogging will resume.

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28 August 2004

Yes, serious things are going wrong with the site. I’m trying to get it fixed. We’ll see what happens.

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25 August 2004

According to the headline at CNN, “Doping suspicions make it difficult to take track marks seriously.” Is this supposed to be funny, or has no one at CNN every seen Trainspotting? [First noted by Sardonic Subversive]

Posted by Todd at 3:13 pm | Comments (1)

24 August 2004

Last weekend, many of New York’s top avant-garde jazz musicians gathered at Tonic to share the stage with Mark Dresser before the bassist returned to his native California. Mark Helias teamed up with Dresser for a bass duet. Andrew Cyrille and Marty Erlich took the stage to form a trio. John Zorn played an angressive duet. And in groups of one or two, a parade of the avant-garde–Gerry Hemingway, Diane Moser, Susie Ibarra, Earl Howard, Anthony Coleman, and others–climbed onto the bandstand and paid their respects by playing a tune with the guest of honor. Through four hours of nearly non-stop music, Dresser never flagged.

Mark Dresser came to New York almost twenty years ago. He quickly established himself as a key player on the avant-garde jazz scene, performing in a long-running trio with Anthony Braxton, working as a sideman for John Zorn, and scoring silent films with Dave Douglas. After accepting a faculty appointment in his native San Diego this year, Dresser will return to the West Coast.

The tribute concert to Dresser covered the range of recent avant-garde jazz, from songs that seemed like a logical step beyond bebop to wailing cello and bass duets that would leave all but the most enthusiastic follower of the genre confused. As with any night of pure improvisation, some performances were stronger than others. The highlights of the evening, though, were when Dresser and his fellow bassists showed the full range of their instruments, which more often lumber than dance. In the hands of Dresser, the bass buzzed and popped and harmonized and slid from a low rumble to graceful treble.

Photos of the event can be found at Downtown Music.

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21 August 2004

Other people’s prose:

I went into the hospital in 1946, with advanced tuberculosis, and altogether I spent three and a half years in the hospital. By the time I got out I had had 10 ribs removed, one lung collapsed, a piece of the other one removed, and there were some severe complications from an experimental drug that was used to keep me alive. During these years I was given up for dead several times. One doctor told me that I could not live, I just didn’t have enough lung capacity, and I should just go home and sit quietly and I would soon be dead. Now, I am blessed with a rotten attitude, and my response to statements of this nature is, Fuck you, no one tells me what to do!

Hubert Selby, Jr., on why he became a writer.

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19 August 2004

Between traveling and internet connection problems, I haven’t been able to post much recently. It looks like the connection issues are fixed, but tomorrow I’m traveling again. Perhaps I’ll be able to post regularly again starting Monday.

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17 August 2004

Nothing makes me feel more like a rube than visiting New York. As I bumble around the city, trying to tell which way is uptown and which way downtown, I inadvertently stumble on major landmark. Look up, it’s the Chrysler Building! Hey, there’s Grand Central Station. Who knew that the U.N. was over by the river?

For the last four days, I was in New York. A large part of the time was spent discussing bonds (Don’t ask), but when not focusing on the exciting topic of fixed income I managed to see a few things. On 33rd St. there is a store with hundreds of exotic birds in the window. Down in Greenwich Village another shop has a display of live puppies. One day, I got stopped as a parade celebrating India’s independence rolled down the street with sequined floats blasting Bollywood hits. Sunday I had two hots dogs from Gray’s Papaya for dinner and a cannoli from Little Italy for dessert. On a dreary Monday morning, I sat in a chair in front of the Public Library and read the New Yorker. Later that day I found myself standing on street corner in Queens.

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11 August 2004

Ignore the right and find out who really is the most liberal senator.

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Rumor has it that Price refused to take the stage in New Orleans until Ronald McDonald was ejected from the arena. The Purple One suffers from coulrophobia, or a fear of clowns.

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It’s already mid-week, and I haven’t said anything about last weekend. Friday we rounded up a group for cocktails at the Columns Hotel, an old building with a great front porch on St. Charles Avenue. When you enter the Columns, the bar is as dark as night even in the afternoon. At first, it’s a little sinister, but after your eyes adjust and you’ve had a few drinks the low lighting starts to feel inviting.

It was nine o’clock before we realized that we were hungry, so a subset of the group headed to Slice, a new pizza place owned by the Juan’s Flying Burrito corporation. There were some problems with the dough, so we waited forever. In exchange, they gave us a larger pizza and a free round of drinks. The management, they said, was very concerned that we were satisfied. New Orleans is not a pizza town, but it wasn’t a bad pie. A dense, thin crust topped with plenty of fresh vegetables.

Saturday night, Andrea and I attended White Linen Night, an annual event when the Julia street art galleries open their doors at night and everyone wears white to beat the heat. Having never served in the military or spent much time on sports teams, I found it a little odd at first to be surrounded by thousands of men all wearing the same shirt as me. The art was a mixed bag, but the various bands playing around the area were excellent. As Omar Sosa played salsa music late into the night at the Contemporary Arts Center, I was forced again to admit that I just have no rhythm.

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9 August 2004

The Republicans have ended their search for a person willing to lose the Illinois Senate race to Barack Obama. Alan Keyes has graciously agreed to relocate to the state of Lincoln and play the role of sacrificial lamb.

On Meet the Press, House speaker Hastert explained how Keyes was selected: “I got down into last week interviewing a 70-year-old guy who was a great farm broadcaster in Illinois. He decided because of his health problems he couldn’t do it. You know, we were down and we needed to find somebody to run, somebody who wanted to run. And, you know, Alan Keyes wants to run, and I hope he’s a good candidate.” [From Talking Points Memo]

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6 August 2004

Since landing in New Orleans almost a month ago, I’ve always eaten my po’boy sandwiches with seafood. If you can get an eleven-inch sandwich stuffed with shrimp and oysters for five dollars, why would you eat anything else? This afternoon, though, I decided that I must expand my culinary horizons. With a sense of adventure, I walked down to my neighborhood grocer and ordered a Fergie, a warm po’boy made with ham and roast beef.

With a hot sandwich wrapped in white paper, I headed home to discover what I’d been missing. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to find something fabulous once I unwrapped the sandwich. I assumed that deep fried seafood was the main attraction to the po’boy. This ignored, though, the central tenet of New Orleans cooking–if it’s not delicious, then they don’t sell it.

I had ordered the Fergie dressed, which in my experience typically means mayo, lettuce, tomato, and dill pickles. When I unwrapped the sandwich, though, I found that on this occasion the pickles had been left off and a new ingredient added–brown gravy. In most parts of the country, one spreadable fat would be enough. Not in New Orleans, where they logically assume that if mayonnaise tastes good and gravy tastes good, then the combination must be doubly delicious. And you know what? They are absolutely right.

Also posted at Too Many Chefs.

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Funky man Rick James is no longer dancing in this world. Designs on You wonders how a 56-year old man can die of “natural causes?” According to CNN, James’ body was found by his “caretaker.” That may be a clue.

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Other people’s prose:

Cracker-crisp and coolly witty, he hits the bull’s-eye with every punch line.

Terry Teachout reviewing a performance by Campbell Scott.

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Did you read Charles Goldthwaite’s article in the Chronicle of Higher Education? Judging by some recent Google referals, a few people came to Frolic wanting to know more about Charles’ transition from English Ph.D. to freelance science writer.

As you may have guessed, I’m not Charles. I know him, though, and you can find him here.

Posted by Todd at 2:43 pm | Comments (1)