Diversions, Part 395

I've got little to say about the Terri Schiavo imbroglio, and probably nothing that hasn't been said already. I'm in the camp that sees the whole push to "save" her as odious (no, actually, make that "heinously offensive") political opportunism. The wholesale trashing of Michael Schiavo, with many baselessly portraying him as some kind of Floridian Josef Mengele, is particularly reprehensible. It is interesting to see, however, all the fallout-- Dubya's opposite stance on life support issues when he was a governor, Tom DeLay's handling of his own father's incapacity, the apparent GOP memo citing the Schiavo case as a way to "energize the base," the hardcore Christian right pissed at Jeb Bush for not going all the way with them...

I'm about 40 percent of the way through "Deep in a Dream: The Long Night of Chet Baker" by James Gavin...tremendously well-written. Gavin goes to great lengths to get a variety of viewpoints on Chet as a musician, as a husband, as a son, as a person. In particular, I enjoy the fact that the book is neither an altar of worship nor a slam piece. I will certainly follow Gavin's writing career with great interest.

I had a great time playing with the Frisky Frolics last night at Speisekammer last night in Alameda. I always do, but in addition to the great regular lineup of Rick Quisol on ukelele, vocals and kazoo, Steve Merritt on guitar, Pierre Laik on mandolin, and Chris Green on bass, we had Marty Eggers on piano (also the bassist with Bo Grumpus). I've always known Marty as a bassist, and man, have I been missing out. Marty's one of those guys that would be considered a "musician's musician"-- I heard Fats Waller, I heard James P. Johnson, I heard Earl Hines, I heard some 1927-era Duke when I heard him last night. I'm grateful that the Friskies give me a chance to air it out on clarinet...makes me want to work even harder.

During the break last night, a special guest, guitarist Garfield Kincross, came in to play and sing a rendition of the 1928 classic tune "Big Rock Candy Mountain." Halfway through the song, I realized that it's the same tune that the lead singer of Hootie and the Blowfish (his name, by the way, is Darius Rucker, NOT "Hootie") does with different lyrics in that blasted "Tendercrisp Bacon Cheddar Ranch" commercial for Burger King.

B-Ball Postmortem

An utter implosion. The Stanford men were up 41-30 in the first half, only to lose 93-70 to Mississippi State. Stanford hoops fans have been spoiled for years now-- it was the first time the men had lost in the first round of the NCAA tournament in 11 years. And the Stanford women look like they'll make yet another deep run in the tournament, possibly taking it all (they're 30-2 now). Coach Tara VanDerveer is a master of the game-- not only does she keep the Card in the chase every year, but she relaxes from the rigors of coaching by practicing classical piano! Gotta like that...

Despite the Cardinal men exiting early from the "March to the Arch," I did find the character they exhibited in getting to the tournament in the first place inspiring: the adjustment to a new coach after the legendary Mike Montgomery left for the Warriors, the departure of two players who opted to focus on football, the academic ineligibility of redshirt freshman Tim Morris, the season-ending injury to leading scorer Dan Grunfeld...

In my other mental meanderings, Hunter S. Thompson's suicide is weighing more on my mind than I thought it would. My uncle David, a regular patron of the famed Woody Creek Tavern, sent me a whole pile of local Aspen-area press immediately following HST's death. True, the Good Doctor could get rather creative with certain facts, and his personal morality could be debated around the barn, but his political insights were on the money FAR more than most of the "insiders" and "voices of reason" in the hopelessly deracinated corporate media. In my book, I'd put HST in a class of creative icons such as Bill Hicks and Charles Mingus-- people who weren't content to just watch the world go on around them without calling out the endless parade of shit peddlers who aid and abet the degradation of our world in more ways than we can possibly imagine.

Yet another person who never got his due: Tadd Dameron. I've been listening all weekend to some Coleman Hawkins sides from December 1947, tunes arranged by Dameron. I've heard very few musicians whose writing could convey the concurrent optimism and darkness of that time so well.

Cheers and Jeers

I've finally gotten around to listening to Air America, the progressive talk-radio network. Can't believe it finally exists! My current favorite is Mike Malloy (www.mikemalloy.com), the kind of no-holds-barred, can-the-bullshit the left desperately needs. He's passionate and tremendously well-informed, and utterly unafraid to call it as he sees it. You can hear Air America in the Bay Area on 960 AM, the Quake (don't have the web link-- sorry).

Steroids-- boy, NO ONE comes out looking good on this one. Where do we start? Sure, Mark McGwire's rep is in the tank now, cemented by his performance in front of Congress yesterday-- his trembling, tearful "for the children" opening statement quickly deteriorating into testy stonewalling. But there was absolutely no way he was going to admit steroid use (we already know that he used "andro" during his record-breaking 1998 season, before he publicly announced he would stop doing so under increasing public scrutiny). Let us not forget, however...

...that Major League Baseball didn't ban steroids until September of 2002. I'm not about to applaud steroid use among players, whether legal at the time or not, but baseball is paying and will continue to pay a huge price for not addressing the steroid issue. Everyone knows the narrative by now: after the World Series-canceling strike of 1994, baseball had to rebuild its profile among the fans-- in 1998, the epic home-run race between Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa provided the feel-good story of the year, with both players breaking Roger Maris's 37-year-old record. Gods walked among us, once again. Seats were filled. And as Greg Maddux and Tom Glavine said in that shoe commercial, "Chicks dig the long ball."

Other sports have cracked down hard on steroids, particularly track and field. Two-year bans, lifetime suspensions-- THOSE are penalties. The proposed penalty for testing positive for 'roids in baseball: 10 games (the regular season is 162 games)...

...which brings me to my main point: the court of public opinion will be far more damaging than any Congressional "investigation" ever could be. Why is Congress spending any time on this (unless they're looking to revoke baseball's anti-trust exemption, in effect since 1922)? Other than the anti-trust issue, all the investigation does is make a bunch of politicians look like they're "tough" on cheaters. I have no problem with politicians commenting on the downside of steroid use, but all they can do is publicly urge Major League Baseball to clean up its own house. Fans have plenty of mental asterisks to put next to the offensive records (home runs, runs batted in, etc.) that have been set in the last decade, and that will only continue unless MLB passes strict rules on steroid use.

Meanwhile, Congress could actually do some real work: you know, like adequate health insurance, avoiding bankrupting the country, keeping the U.S. out of Perpetual War, and so forth. Hoo-hoo!

Airborne tablets, Ricola drops, Sudafed...

This has not been a good year so far for my immune system...bug after bug after bug. I know that I'm not alone, by any stretch of the imagination, but that doesn't help. What's even worse is that in-between state of being, in which I'm not sick enough to completely collapse, but not healthy enough to do anything but blot my nose for 24 hours straight. Good times!

If nothing else, I've been cooped up watching a lot of Bill Hicks on DVD...watching Lewis Black commentaries online...listening to Mike Malloy on Air America. I'm feeling the fire again, even if my nose is running incessantly.

In addition to my day's choice of entertainment, I had the good fortune of recording a few days ago with one of my favorite composers, The Artist Currently Known as Admiral Ted Brinkley (Semi-Ret.). I'll keep you all posted on the impending release date of the CD. I've been a fan of the Admiral since about 1993, when I first met him, and the roster of musicians he has assembled is first-rate. Our show at the Community Music Center in San Francisco in January 2004 received glowing reviews.

I've almost finished reading "The Trouble With Cinderella: An Outline of Identity" by Artie Shaw. Yes, the clarinetist often at the top of the heap during the Swing Era. Definitely one of the best books I've read in a long time. I highly recommend it, particularly to anyone who wants to make a serious go of it as a professional performer. Artie was always someone who called it as he saw it, and his insights in "Cinderella" could save a lot of people a lot of grief. Going through it, I have to constantly remind myself that Shaw finished this book in 1952, at the height of McCarthy-ist, "Jell-O conformity" (in the words of Hunter S. Thompson) in this country.

Some musicians I want to listen to: Tony Scott, John Carter, Ben Goldberg, Chris Speed, Omer Simeon, Jimmy Hamilton, Ake "Stan" Hasselgaard, Mwata Bowden, and Artie Shaw's Gramercy Five. A clarinet theme here...

The Return of the "F" Word

Yes, it's time to bring out the "F" word again: fascism. I realize that the word "fascist" has been used to death, mostly inappropriately. As a result, most people probably have absolutely no idea what fascism is, or if they do know, they most likely think that it was something that existed in a brief moment in time, back in the olden days, far far away. It can't happen here, right?

Mark Drolette of the Online Journal (www.onlinejournal.com) has done an extended analysis of Laurence W. Britt's article, "Fascism Anyone?", examining 14 key points of fascism (such as promotion of fierce nationalism, cracking down on unions, and demonizing intellectuals and artists, for starters) . And yes, he means fascism as it applies to America today, and more specifically, to our current administration. Eerie similarities, left and right. I'll let Mr. Drolette and Mr. Britt explain in further detail.

The scariest thing in all of this is that millions of Americans apparently could care less about the current administration's moves toward fascist principles. All I have left to say right now is an excerpt from someone else; I'll let you figure out who said it, if you don't know already:

"...Then they came for me-- and there was no one left to speak out for me."