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"...but this is the first time I ever heard of smoke, actual smoke, coming out of a speaker... Apart from that, the highlight of the evening was driving home. Oh well. There's always the next time to look forward to. That's tonight, indoors, which should make for fewer surprises."

Oh, never say that, Greg. You are just daring the universe. Why, just think back to some of your own stories (you may have forgotten, but I never will). And as for the speakers catching fire--- bands pay a lot of money to the fx guys so that very thing will happen, though it sometimes does get out of hand. Just look at Sacre du Printemps. Maybe we could call this set piece Afterburn of August. Or something.

It would seem unnecessary to mention the earthquake and the hurricane (and that unfortunate collapse of the stage on a windy day last week, which gave the fans elements of both at once).

Welcome to the thread, Maverick Piano. You've come to the right place; I can tell you already feel right at home. Maybe you can tell us the true story about french fries and mayonnaise in Bruxelles, since Apple has scoffed

And in Still More Elvis News:

Happy birthday, Elvis Costello: August 25, 1954. His studio performance with Burt Bacharach a few years ago was one of those lightning bolts that should have set my television on fire; maybe a breaker tripped in time somewhere, for it didn't happen. It takes a Greg, it would seem.

Robin will be back at home in the castle before we know it. I find it a stretch to believe she will bring back a story as colorful as that of her vacation last year, in Ireland, at a mental asylum which had been remodeled into a B&B. The address was still 'Mental Hospital Road,' and as I look around the neighborhood, I think more people ought to be having a vacation there.

Present company excluded, of course.

French fries and mayonnaise are available at every corner in Belgium juste like fish and chips in the UK.

I have to say that belgian people are really heavy drinker and heavy eater : whenever we welcome a friend at home, he tells us that he never ate and drank so much in his life ! :-)

What you must try coming in Belgium :

- Beer : more than 300 different sorts (Try one of the Trappiste... its an abbey-beer)
- Abbey-Cheese : beer would feel sooo lonely without the cheese
- Mussels with...french fries and... beer ! :-))))
- Chocolate (especially Pralines from Godiva or Wittamer)

Did I mention the beer ? ;-)

Nice to see a new face..(as if)

I wish I lived in Greenwich village in the 60s (and 70s).

True enough. That night went off quite well nonetheless. There was one noteworthy item, though. There was a couple there - "couple" is really not the right word, but the right word probably doesn't exist - who drew quite a bit of attention.

He is well into his seventies, perhaps 12 years in. He dances, and walks, so as never to move his feet more than two inches horizontally or 1/4" vertically.

She is more difficult to describe. She is roughly half his age and reminds me of a camel; not that she bears any resemblance to a camel, but she does appear to have been designed by a committee. A committee that meets at "Gentlemen's" clubs.

It's as if someone assembled a car from all of the showiest parts without considering how they might fit together. With apologies to "South Pacific", where she's narrow, she is narrower than an arrow, and broader than a broad should be broad where a broad allegedly oughta be broad. Her proportion of hair size to head size is roughly the same as on a Barbie doll.

Her clothes ...

Let me stop for a moment. I may have given the impression that I have played in a lot of dives. That was true, but mostly back in my impressionable years. These days there are more restaurants than bars and most are pretty nice. This place is especially so. The clientele is mostly forties-and-up suburban. There are, to be sure, a few High-School-Prom dresses on women of a certain age, but all in all a respectable crowd.

Back to her clothes. Have you ever heard someone snipe "She dresses like a hooker"? Probably they mean something is too high, or too low or too...something, but you would have no trouble distinguishing the woman being trashed from an actual "professional". Not so in this case.

I think an eight year old could wear this matching shorts and halter ensemble to the beach (and in the same size) without causing a scandal, but not with the six inch heels.

As for her dancing, I am going to have to warn you not to apply the usual "hyperbole readjustment factor" as you read this. I'm no slouch at exaggeration, but it simply isn't possible in this case.

I once saw Marcel Marceau give, of all things, a lecture. He demonstrated many of his techniques, including things like pretending to walk up a flight of (nonexistent) stairs. It was truly amazing. With only his movements, he made us "see" stairs, a rope and much more.

When "Barbie" danced you could "see" the metal pole. It was eerie. She kicked her heels up over her head, squatted down nearly to the floor, whirled around and managed to look detached (and a little frightening) at the same time. And thi while her "date" toddled a little 4" circle in place.

So I'm sure you're thinking this old codger hired a hooker/exotic dancer for the night. And that may indeed be the case. But the kicker is that we've seen the two of them before, more than once, and at a different place.

There was no shortage of speculation among the onlookers, but it's till a mystery to me.

"...And as for the speakers catching fire--- bands pay a lot of money to the FX guys so that very thing will happen, though it sometimes does get out of hand...."

Pardon me for quoting my own post! But maybe this lady was just trying to show that there is more than one way to set a nightclub on fire.

You know, Real Second Housewives actually take lessons in pole dancing these days--- so says the buzz, anyway. Has Wedding Jeopardy blown its way up the East Coast with the fury of a Category Two tempest? "And the answer is: Streetwalker Barbie." But I believe the Category already is on the board: "A Skanky Slut Stole My Love." Which I stole, I admit, from a Mad TV send-up of The Jerry Springer Show. I guess Hurricane Barbie got the drop on The Weather Channel, for in all their breathless storm coverage they never mentioned her name once. Maybe she was too uncovered for their coverage.

"...I may have given the impression that I have played in a lot of dives...."

Well, ok. Since you say so yourself. I see nothing wrong with it, and at least the afternoon sun isn't blazing into the performers' eyes. I've got to tell you, that old guy gives me hope that the wrong side of seventy may not be all that bad. Who knows, maybe he got tired of taking his first wife to yet another performance of Rhapsody in BlueHair somewhere respectable and uptown.

Anyway, if he's not ashamed to be seen with her, I'm not ashamed to look. Maybe she's the secret love child of Tempest Storm and--- whoops, I was about to give away the all-important Wedding Jeopardy Question. And the Lightning Round, too. Whether the lady in question is with the young gentleman on the installment plan or via an ironclad prenup, we'll let the first wife's private detective agency find out. Who knows, maybe they just like each other.

Ok, hurricane jokes aside, and as seriously as I'm able, I hope our forum buddies and their pianos made it through the storm ok.

Dateline Newport: MSNBC had footage of an actual wedding reception in progress, rocking out on a yacht as the big storm bore straight down. I did not see any coverage mentioning whether they made it. I take it for a good sign, otherwise it would have been the lead story on every channel and the headline of every newspaper.

Ah, I knew I forgot something.

It rook nearly forty years of playing gigs, but I finally found out what it takes to cancel an outdoor show ahead of time: A hurricane 600 miles in diameter.

As I'm sure I've mentioned, the people who decide such things don't pack gear, don't drive a long way to the venue and (especially) don't have any of their own valuable assets in the path of the storm. "We'll wait and see". "We're gonna see if we can get it in". "In the 22 years we've been doing this concert, it's never rained".

My house is not near any bodies of water, but our street is downhill from the rest of the neighborhood and the drainage is poor. There have been times when the water got to calf height on our street. Once a little even came into the house.

I spent all day yesterday battening down the hatches, caulking, building plywood "dams" for the doorways, taking in a window air conditioner, tying down and/or moving outdoor items indoors, getting out the Shop Vac and much more.

Now that the storm has (mostly) passed, I can say that I have never been more pleased to have wasted my time. For whatever reason, the water never built up much on our street, and everything else held up well. Despite almost complete neglect on our part, our Magnolia tree survived also.

In less than a week, NY City has experienced an earthquake and a hurricane. Experts differ on what will be next. Locusts? Pestilence? I'm sure Pat Robertson has something to say about it.

I love the "Barbie" story, Greg. In the genteel South we would say "Bless their hearts!"

Short report on a wedding I attended a week ago: It was the wedding of our former nanny, and it was well-attended by many of her previous babysitting charges. I was quite relieved at the end of the night to note that my son was the best-behaved child there. Of course, he was older than the other kids by at least 5 years, but I take my maternal victories where I can.

Christine was a violinist, so she chose a string quartet for her musical accompaniment rather than piano. They did an excellent job for the pre-ceremony festivities (good ol' air on a G string, naturally, and a very nice arrangement of "Simple Gifts", among others). The ceremony itself hit a couple of snags, unfortunately. Chris had enlisted two of her previous clients as flower girl and ring bearer. The girl, maybe 5 or 6 years old, was absolutely adorable and stole the scene. (Note to future brides: Don't pick a flower girl who is too precious for words, or you may be upstaged.) The flower girl was enthusiastic about her role, perhaps too enthusiastic as luck would have it, as she emptied her basket of rose petals all in the first two steps. The videographer thus faced the challenge of keeping the camera steady while pantomiming to the young girl that she should simply pretend to sprinkle petals for the remainder of the trip down the aisle.

But the ring bearer displayed the opposite and much more serious problem of too *little* enthusiasm for his appointed task. He was younger, maybe 3 at the oldest, and he totally quailed when he saw the assorted audience looking at him. He stood there, scared out of his wits, shaking his head "no" vehemently when the wedding planner, photographer, parents, and finally wedding guests urged him to start walking down the aisle. Finally his dad snuck up and tried to guide him down the aisle by the arm, at which point the little tyke flopped down on his tummy right in middle of the aisle. After a few more anxious moments, his parents got him upright and convinced him to walk on down the aisle, but the damage was already done. When the bride was finally able to make her way down the aisle, the string quartet, which had been playing the ol' reliable "Canon in D," ran out of cannon fodder and concluded their playing, leaving the hapless bride finishing the last half of the walk up the aisle in dead silence.

Now, I am not a professional musician, so it is perhaps churlish of me to criticize the quartet, but surely a group that is used to playing together and performing publicly should've been able to grasp the situation and keep playing, don't you think? And if there is any piece in the world that is conducive to a little creative repetition of a theme here and there, wouldn't it be Pachelbel??

Well, we've all given it our best. Greg, Monica, Apple, everyone. I whipped up a post on Pachelbel's birthday, trying my very best to tempt Robin to come back from her vacation--- and, what do you know, I hit the wrong button (perhaps through sleepiness) and my nice post went to e-mail heaven.

I thought, "Well, I have the notes, maybe I can bring it back." But the Muses weren't having it. Clio, Thalia, Erato, Euterpe, Polyhymnia, Calliope, Terpsichore, Urania, Melpomene: "No." Or, "Not now." Though I am thinking, portraits of each would be a good scheme for redecorating my music room. Focus the attention on the emblems of greatness, and "The mind, like a colorless jewel, takes on the qualities of whatever it is placed upon."

The judges decisions are final. And Robin may, just, need her vacation... or maybe Platinum Weddings has tempted her to do a turn on television for a big pile of money. Better yet, maybe she's filming a special with Marian McPartland for BBC America, hmmm, History of Nightclubs, at last. That would be some great television; they'd be rerunning that forever.

Not being in demand for weddings (though I have been invited to another one), I have my hands full with Two and Three-Part Inventions, Collected Works of Scott Joplin (with some Joseph Lamb thrown in, but with the tangos set aside for now), and Grieg's Lyric Pieces. And a few odds and ends--- more odd than end, of course. The dentist is getting all my money for a good while--- you would think I was a crash test dummy, but no.

I miss you, Robin. Hope things are well. Maybe you're doing a few little concerts here and there, just to fill out the season: Vienna, Monte Carlo, Paris, St. Petersburg, Prague, Nice, Lisbon, etc. Oh--- and Bruxelles. And I want a full report on that one.


PS-
Oh--- did I say Lisbon? I meant Milan.

I listened to one of my favorite songs this morning (my memory jostled by a post from another forum).,. and thought of you and your father Robin..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rxgWHzMvXOY

I've recently returned from vacation myself, although it didn't include any of Clef's exotic destinations. We went to Maine, specifically Acadia National Park. If you like rocks, especially big rocks piled into steep cliffs that are pounded by waves 24 hours a day, this is your kind of place. Trees? They've got as many of those as you could want as well, many clinging to small amounts of soil on the aforementioned rocks.

There wasn't much musical content on this trip, but I have a couple of mildly interesting tidbits to relate.

On the drive back toward home we passed a small house with a fairly nondescript sign "WERU Community Radio, 89.9 FM". We had decided to take Route 1 rather than the Interstate, so we went through a lot of small towns.

We generally listen to Satellite radio (XM) on these trips, but on a lark, I decided to try out the station whose "headquarters" we had apparently just passed. It was a nice clear signal and we had stumbled on a combination Acadian/Cajun music show. What great music to drive to! Hand-slappin' foot-tappin' fun.

I think the same mindset that led us to take the slower road was involved in the decision to try out a radio station based on the size of the building it was housed in. Good luck follows such choices surprisingly often.

If someone asked you to invent an instrument to mimic bagpipes, but using an entirely different mechanism, you could hardly do better than a Hurdy-Gurdy. We ran across a guy in Portsmouth (New Hampshire) playing 18th century folk hits on what looked to be a brand new instrument.

I got a better look at it than I've had a chance to before, and I asked him a few questions as well. It's got a crank-powered wooden wheel maybe 5" in diameter that "bows" three strings. Apparently it is just a wooden surface with some rosin on it. Two of the strings are drones, tuned to a fifth.

The third goes through a long wooden box with buttons on the side that "stop" the string at different points. This is the melody string. It seems that he could push the buttons in a little harder to "bend" the note a bit.

As the instrument sits on the players lap, and is driven with a hand crank, there is a cyclic variation in both the pitch and volume, sort of akin to a vinyl record whose hole is a little off-center. (you youngsters can ask your parents)

But that's not quite all. As the string sound is not quite as, it must be said, assaulting to the ear as bagpipes, there is a small "buzz" string that is attached to one of the others. This adds a certain wax-paper/comb (kids, ask your parents again) or mbira-like buzz to the output.

It's quite a contraption, but like the joke about the singing dog, it's more impressive that it works at all than to actually listen to.

I took hundreds of photos in Maine, as is my general habit. Only 30 or so have found their way to Flickr so far.

Maine 2011 Photos

Rock, tree and ocean fanciers may want to have a look. More will follow as I separate the wheat from the chaff. I hope everyone had a good Summer.

Well, you lot have been busy bees. I had a lot of (fun) reading to catch up.

Speaking of St Helen and her miraculous finds (Jeff, I believe it was)... I lived in Milan for 5 years and currently live a mere 22 km outside of town.... Every 2nd Sunday in September we have the Festa del Satno Chiodo. The Feast of the Holy Nail.

Myth, legend, rumour - what you will - has it that ONE of the nails from the crucifixion, found by St. Helen, resides in the Duomo of Milano.

It seems that Helen gave the nail to her son Constantine, who used it as a bit for his horse's bridle. Seems quite sacreligious to me, but who am I to judge?

The nail somehow made its way to Milan (perhaps when the Edict of Milan (313A.D.), which made Christianity an accepted part of the Roman pantheon of religions, was published.
(Aside: - You can see a represenation of the edict on the northern-most doors of the Cathederal facade)

The nail is in the centre of a very large silver cross, and is illuminated.
The cross hangs above and slightly behind the main altar, close to the ceiling, which is....about 45 metres high.

On the day of the feast, 4-5 clergy form a procession and go to the back of the altar where they find the "nivola" (dialect for "nuvola", which means "cloud") which will take them up to the cross. In bygone days they were hoisted on high by brute strength and a crank. Nowadays it is electronically lifted, but it still takes about 15-20 minutes.

The cross is brought down (another 15-20 minutes) and displayed at the front of the main altar for a week, after which it is replaced.

They play lovely music during the ceremony. I've seen it twice.

Another bit of triva - linguistic this time....
...... Cathedral = a church which is the seat of a bishop.
From the Latin "cathedra" =easy chair/seat, and the Greek Kathedra = kata=down + hedra = seat/base/chair.
In Milanese dialect "cadrega" means "chair" but the cathedral is called the "Domm" coming from the Latin "domus" for house.

Greg, your photos were superb. I was trying to decide between the close-up of the gull and one of the crashing waves for my favorite, when the shot of the fallen/cut tree trunk flashed by--and it was absolutely stunning, better than many I've seen at art shows being sold for big money.

Your album made me want to go visit Maine, even though that water looked awfully cold. brrrr

Thanks for the kind words. As for the water temperature, not to worry; you'd be dashed against the rocks and unconscious before the cold got to be a problem.

Greg, great photos. I especially liked the one of the islands all scattered about, and the butterfly on the rock. This is the Maine I love. Glad you got to hear WERU; and took Route 1: much more interesting than 95. Did you take route 1 all the way back to New York, or eventually swing over to the interstate?

Oh no, we swung. Around Freeport, I think. But many years ago we took 1 all the way up to New Brunswick (from Augusta, I think). And we've been through some other sparse parts of Maine as well. We've driven home from Quebec (through Jackman) at least once and made an overnight visit to the Moosehead Lake area one other time.

we need an anecdote.

I was playing at my little Vietnamese Italian church on Saturday and during the first verse of the first song, the priest speaks...."Mary - Mary!.. let's try another song.. the people don't know this one.. How about Glory and Praise?"

No number or anything.. that was a first.. I had to look it up in an index about 10 feet from the organ, find the other book and start playing.

What a dear that priest is.

It is dear, and thoughtful. Maybe not so much for the organist. But so many clergy would just plow through the hymn. I hope "Fame and Glory" worked out better.

"At last, my love has come along/ The lonely nights are over,/ and life is like a song."

I am not referring to a hymn tune, of course, but to the anniversary of the opening of Tiffany & Co. on September 18, 1837. This is something no bride would overlook; I realize I'm carrying coals to Newcastle here. I have also realized it's no use trying to figure out who could say the word, "Tiffany's" the best, Audrey Hepburn or Marilyn Monroe? They may have to arm wrestle for the title, but I think Marilyn is going to be hard to top, since she sang it to music and danced, while intoning the sacred syllables. But, Audrey starred in a whole movie, and that is also hard to top.

But if we're talking about untoppable movies, there is The Loves of Hercules, starring our own Jayne Mansfield (who turned down the role of Ginger, and that's a 50-point advantage right there) and muscle-daddy Mickey Hargitay. Filmed in Italy, where they know hot when they see it, no studio has dared release it in the US to this very day.

Their love story is worth recalling:

"Hargitay's first film role came when Jayne Mansfield demanded he be cast in her newest film, "Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter?" (1957). The two met the year before at "The Mae West Show" at the Latin Quarter. When Jayne noticed Mickey performing, she told the waiter, "I’ll have a steak and that tall man on the left." The two fell head over heels in love and were never seen apart. They were married from 1958 to 1964. 20th Century Fox hated it that Mansfield saw Hargitay as her "only" lover. But when Jayne told the studio that she would turn the film down, they gave in.

"...Hargitay and Mansfield married on January 13, 1958. They had three children: Miklós, Zoltán, [and actress] Mariska. Mickey Hargitay remodeled much of his and Mansfield's Beverly Hills mansion, "The Pink Palace", building its famous heart-shaped swimming pool. In November 2002, the house was razed by developers." Wiki: Hargitay

Sic transit gloria mundi.

And, speaking of love stories, glamorous marriages and sic transit etc, on September 18, 1982 the world marked the passing of Princess Grace, the only US film actress to be honored with a postage stamp (at that time). 100 million people, worldwide, saw her funeral on TV, at which Jimmy Steward said: "You know, I just love Grace Kelly. Not because she was a princess, not because she was an actress, not because she was my friend, but because she was just about the nicest lady I ever met. Grace brought into my life as she brought into yours, a soft, warm light every time I saw her, and every time I saw her was a holiday of its own. No question, I'll miss her, we'll all miss her, God bless you, Princess Grace." http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grace_Kelly

Sad, but wonderful, too.

As long as we're remembering the memorable, there's San Francisco's own Isadora Duncan, the revolutionary of the dance. Her story is too deliciously scandalous to recount, even here (so often true of dancers), but I hope the little snippet quoted will encourage people to do the look-up or read one of the books about her life:

"Isadora Duncan rejected traditional ballet steps to stress improvisation, emotion and the human form. Duncan believed that classical ballet, with its strict rules of posture and formation, was "ugly and against nature"; she gained a wide following that allowed her to set up a school to teach.

"Duncan became so famous that she inspired artists and authors to create sculpture, jewelry, poetry, novels, photographs, watercolors, prints and paintings of her. When the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées was built in 1913, her likeness was carved in its bas-relief over the entrance by sculptor Antoine Bourdelle and included in painted murals of the nine muses by Maurice Denis in the auditorium." http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isadora_Duncan

And last, but far from least, there is Margaret Sanger, born September 14, 1879, an American sex educator, nurse, and birth control activist who all-but-singlehandedly wrestled both the church and the government to the mat to allow women the option to conceive--- or not. Brides will want to know about her! And maybe grooms, too. The lifelong struggle she waged brought forth the birth control pill, and revolutionized attitudes toward contraception.

Well, there are still some holdouts.

The timeline is highly fractured, but we could say in general that the pill became available around 1961 or 1965. Too late for Clara Schumann, born September 13, 1819, who made few bones about the fact that she would just as soon have stopped having children after the first couple... yet went on to bear eight. And that was the story of a woman's life until quite recently. You had to say, "Yes," to your husband whenever he wanted you, and that meant pregnancy after pregnancy, whether one could care for these kids, afford them, or educate them. It sounds incredible today; the woman who has gotten a TV series by virtue of bearing, I guess it's 19 children now, through it may be 20, seems freakish, and the Octomom is, according to public opinion polls, "The Most Hated Woman in America." And Medi-Cal paid for it.

Well anyway, Happy Birthday Margaret Sanger

Of course, Jonathan Swift had a modest proposal about how to deal with pregnancy after pregnancy.

a reviving post of sorts...

i played with my military, best friend,over managing, micromanaging conductor this weekend. Now she is trying to set my organ playing.. One needs a fluid and immediate ability to adjust and balance the crowd and space. Specifics are so inhibiting. just a little rant. i can't really look for a job until my driving restrictions are lifted (in two weeks.. hurray).

Had a great time at my little church tho. Old standards, my pavarotti tenor was in the congregation and all went well, until I accidentally turned on the bells during the last song. o well. this has happened before and I've yet to figure out what stop did this.

i'm getting my lovely piano tuned on Thursday. It's been a year and hardly needs tuning.

i stopped by a little church on the way home to see if they needed an organist for the 5.30 service.. (mine is at 4).. Two VERY heavy and rather old ladies were sitting at the electric piano, not rehearsing or talking about piano (they were talking about Myna's awful tuna casserole that she keeps bringing to potlucks).. and concluded that the awesome little pipe organ in the loft didn't get played enough. I'll send them a resume in the off chance that those two ladies really don't want to provide the music. It is a Mexican congregation and some of the Catholic Latino music is pretty awesome these days.

What have you all been doing?

Apple, I just wanted to say congratulations on getting your license back soon and best of luck in securing new organs to play. I've been following (lurking on) this thread for some time now and I just enjoy so much "keeping up" with Piano Girl, Jeff Clef, and especially you! You all have a great way of writing--even seemingly mundane events sound just fascinating!