Although I have a huge backlog of albums and concerts to write about here, I should really take this opportunity to plug my latest series of (semi-)solo live performances--EVERYTHING: AN EVENING WITH RON EHMKE AND HIS OR HER VERY SPECIAL GUESTS. This is my attempt to emulate some of the aspects of music concerts that, as a spoken-word/writer kinda guy, I've always envied: a changing set list, the ability to share the stage with guest performers, and, hey, even a merch table where you can buy concert tees, recordings, and more. My master plan is to use the blanket title EVERYTHING for whatever solo performances I may happen to do for the next few years, changing the content of each show based on the venue, available resources, my mood at the time, and other factors. This way I'll have a very portable, tour-able performance I can do the next time someone invites me to go ... somewhere and do ... something. The concept is one I've had for several years now, and I'm finally getting a chance to try it out over the next few months.
The first three shows are this weekend at the Burchfield-Penney Art Center here in sunny Buffalo, NY. My guest on both Thursday and Saturday night is the always-delightful Heather Connor, who'll be performing several Brazilian songs (and who knows what else). Thursday (4/28/05 at 8 PM) she'll be accompanied by Jerry Augustiniak on percussion; Saturday (4/30/05 at 7 PM) by Joe Rozler on piano. On Friday night (4/29/05 at 10 PM) my guest will be Lindsay Catalanello, a singer/songwriter and pianist whom I first saw performing a few weeks ago. She's new to the area and I was completely stunned by her voice and presence. All of these folks are terrific, and I hope you'll come check them out.
For more info on these shows and the ones that follow in May and June, check out my brand new website, www.everythingron.com. I'll try to remember to plug the later shows as they draw nearer.
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Saturday, March 12, 2005
Whistler's Delight
Okay, I realize mashups are supposedly so 2003 or something, but dang, I really enjoy a lot of them, like this one by DJ Riko that I first heard on KCRW a while back, which features excerpts from 22 different songs of people whistling. Maybe that description will not entice you to check it out, but hey, it's your loss.
Saturday, March 05, 2005
I Hate the Capitalist System
If I were a better blogger, or at least a more prolific one, I would have alerted readers in the Buffalo area to a talk yesterday afternoon at the Burchfield-Penney Art Center, as part of their ambitious exhibition/film/lecture series "Art on the Hyphen: Cuban-American Artists of Western New York State". But nope, I did't write a word about it here, and now it's just a memory. (Adding to the ephemeral nature of it all, in due time, the link above will cease to take you to the exhibition site.)
So here's a quick recap: US-born, Cuban-raised bandleader Pablo Menendez spoke on the history of Cuban music in a sorta-scattered, sorta-focused, very personal presentation packed with video clips. (Sample timeline entries:
1492--Europeans arrive first time in Cuba
1966--Pablo goes to Cuba to study for a year and stays there
1978--CBS signs Irakere)
Truth be told, I'm not much of a Cuban music afficianado. Yeah, sure, I've heard the same album every gringo has, and I enjoyed the accompanying movie, but it's hardly a "musical obsession" for me in the way that other stuff I write about here is. Also, any discussion about Cuba invariably baffles me, because the speakers always, always take an inflexible stand (either: the revolution was a sham! Castro is a dictator! or: the revolution was glorious! Do not believe what the American propaganda machine tells you!), and I've always suspected the truth lies somewhere in between the two extremes. (Menendez is definitely in the latter camp, no doubt about it. So much for dialectics...) But I'm very open to learning more about the culture and the sound, for sure, and I'm happy I attended the lecture.
Two moments stood out for me. One was a clip of nueva trova singer-songwriter Carlos Varela performing a song about the I Ching in front of a rapturous crowd. The song and performance didn't do much for me, but I was struck by Menendez's note that Varela is influenced by people like Billy Joel and Elton John, which provoked an audience question: "What's Cuban about this?" Menendez's response--that Cuban music is as diverse and open to influence as any other--reminded me of Arto Lindsay pointing out something very similar about contemporary Brazilian music (which encompasses hiphop, metal, Top 40 pop, and lots of other stuff beyond outsiders' image of "authentic"/native sounds). Menendez suggested that expecting all Cuban performers to go the rumba/son/mambo route would be like assuming that "American" music is best performed in overalls with a banjo. (And maybe it is, but that's another story.)
The other memorable moment for me was one I really did enjoy on its own terms: a very slick (ie, technically impressive) music video by Equis Alfonso ("Alfonso X," named for Malcolm). Easily one of the most interesting MTV-style pieces I've seen in a long time, even if it will likely never be shown on MTV.
As a sidenote, the title for this blog entry comes from an album recorded in 1973 by Menendez's mother, folksinger Barbara Dane. I hadn't heard of her till today (and I just sampled some of her songs thanks to iTunes), but that gutsy album title does help to explain how a teenager from Oakland would end up moving to Cuba in the mid-60s, doesn't it?
So here's a quick recap: US-born, Cuban-raised bandleader Pablo Menendez spoke on the history of Cuban music in a sorta-scattered, sorta-focused, very personal presentation packed with video clips. (Sample timeline entries:
1492--Europeans arrive first time in Cuba
1966--Pablo goes to Cuba to study for a year and stays there
1978--CBS signs Irakere)
Truth be told, I'm not much of a Cuban music afficianado. Yeah, sure, I've heard the same album every gringo has, and I enjoyed the accompanying movie, but it's hardly a "musical obsession" for me in the way that other stuff I write about here is. Also, any discussion about Cuba invariably baffles me, because the speakers always, always take an inflexible stand (either: the revolution was a sham! Castro is a dictator! or: the revolution was glorious! Do not believe what the American propaganda machine tells you!), and I've always suspected the truth lies somewhere in between the two extremes. (Menendez is definitely in the latter camp, no doubt about it. So much for dialectics...) But I'm very open to learning more about the culture and the sound, for sure, and I'm happy I attended the lecture.
Two moments stood out for me. One was a clip of nueva trova singer-songwriter Carlos Varela performing a song about the I Ching in front of a rapturous crowd. The song and performance didn't do much for me, but I was struck by Menendez's note that Varela is influenced by people like Billy Joel and Elton John, which provoked an audience question: "What's Cuban about this?" Menendez's response--that Cuban music is as diverse and open to influence as any other--reminded me of Arto Lindsay pointing out something very similar about contemporary Brazilian music (which encompasses hiphop, metal, Top 40 pop, and lots of other stuff beyond outsiders' image of "authentic"/native sounds). Menendez suggested that expecting all Cuban performers to go the rumba/son/mambo route would be like assuming that "American" music is best performed in overalls with a banjo. (And maybe it is, but that's another story.)
The other memorable moment for me was one I really did enjoy on its own terms: a very slick (ie, technically impressive) music video by Equis Alfonso ("Alfonso X," named for Malcolm). Easily one of the most interesting MTV-style pieces I've seen in a long time, even if it will likely never be shown on MTV.
As a sidenote, the title for this blog entry comes from an album recorded in 1973 by Menendez's mother, folksinger Barbara Dane. I hadn't heard of her till today (and I just sampled some of her songs thanks to iTunes), but that gutsy album title does help to explain how a teenager from Oakland would end up moving to Cuba in the mid-60s, doesn't it?
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Brazil comes to Buffalo, part two
If you're in the WNY area these days and share my interest in Brazilian culture, check out this exhibition of work by performance/installation/media artist Janaina Tschäpe at the UB Art Gallery.
The show opens this Friday, Feb. 18, with a walkthrough by the artist at 5, a reception from 6-7:30, and video screenings at 6, 6:30, and 7. The exhibition is up through March 26.
The show opens this Friday, Feb. 18, with a walkthrough by the artist at 5, a reception from 6-7:30, and video screenings at 6, 6:30, and 7. The exhibition is up through March 26.
Brazil comes to Buffalo, part one
Last Sunday I saw Luciana Souza's concert with pianist Edward Simon at the Albright-Knox here in Buffalo, part of the gallery's "Microsoft Art of Jazz" series. I confess I was a little nervous at the outset; I'm not a huge fan of the soprano-plus-piano combo to begin with, and the opening number left me kinda cold. But Souza's range of material is amazing, from her own settings of poems by Pablo Neruda to Jobim chestnuts to American standards she picked up from Chet Baker and Billie Holiday to choro, and so on and so on. And she's a wonderfully natural stage performer with a great sense of humor; my favorite part of the afternoon was hearing her stories between songs.
None of this inspired me to pick up one of her albums at the show. I'm intrigued by them; but they seem at first glance to be single-concept affairs, whereas the strength of the live concert was her aforementioned ability to pick and choose from each of these projects. Even so, I felt the record-shopping jones, so I headed to the used bin at the nearest Record Theater (big sale on Sunday), where I found two gems for next to nothing: Vinicius Cantuária's Sol Na Cara and Aphex Twin's Drukqs. This pair might seem to have little in common, but, weirdly enough, the little squiggles of noise running through some of Cantuaria's songs could have come straight from any number of Aphex songs, and the opening track on disc one of Drukqs (with the quintessentially Aphex-y title "Jynweythek") is surprisingly delicate (sounds like some sort of hammered dulcimer action, of all things) and wouldn't be out of place at all as a backing track on Vinicius' album. Go figure.
For the record, the Aphex album seems fine, but other than that opening number and some pure piano tracks, most of it sounds like stuff he's already done elsewhere. I'd heard this criticism when the album first came out, but now I really get it. And I don't care all that much, because it's still nice (in its own sometimes-nasty way). Cantuária's disc is even better. Since I didn't recognize the title, I was worried that it would be one of his earlier schlocky pop albums I've been warned against, but nope, it's a delight.
So I went home happy: lovely concert on a snowy afternoon, couple of unrelated albums, a bunch of work postponed.
None of this inspired me to pick up one of her albums at the show. I'm intrigued by them; but they seem at first glance to be single-concept affairs, whereas the strength of the live concert was her aforementioned ability to pick and choose from each of these projects. Even so, I felt the record-shopping jones, so I headed to the used bin at the nearest Record Theater (big sale on Sunday), where I found two gems for next to nothing: Vinicius Cantuária's Sol Na Cara and Aphex Twin's Drukqs. This pair might seem to have little in common, but, weirdly enough, the little squiggles of noise running through some of Cantuaria's songs could have come straight from any number of Aphex songs, and the opening track on disc one of Drukqs (with the quintessentially Aphex-y title "Jynweythek") is surprisingly delicate (sounds like some sort of hammered dulcimer action, of all things) and wouldn't be out of place at all as a backing track on Vinicius' album. Go figure.
For the record, the Aphex album seems fine, but other than that opening number and some pure piano tracks, most of it sounds like stuff he's already done elsewhere. I'd heard this criticism when the album first came out, but now I really get it. And I don't care all that much, because it's still nice (in its own sometimes-nasty way). Cantuária's disc is even better. Since I didn't recognize the title, I was worried that it would be one of his earlier schlocky pop albums I've been warned against, but nope, it's a delight.
So I went home happy: lovely concert on a snowy afternoon, couple of unrelated albums, a bunch of work postponed.
Sunday, February 06, 2005
Big Brass Band
Can it really be more than a month since my last entry here? Yeah, probably so, given how busy I've been on several fronts at once. Fortunately, I left a brief note for myself when I heard a segment on the PRI show The World on Indian brass band music that I've been meaning to mention here since it first aired on Jan. 12. Always exciting to discover a subgenre that I never dreamed existed. Plus the radio story contains an interesting observation from one of the music's practitioners, Hamid Khan Kawa of the Jaipure Kawa Brass Band, on the way they've benefitted from their country's colonial legacy:
"For India and for our Indian philosophy it say, any part of the world, we have to take the best thing of the world, we have to take the best thing of the person. That makes life. So today we have for example, there is harmonium, it comes from the English organ, and today we don't find it in England this instrument. And it's one of the most popular instruments in India, this is called harmonium. And so, we love also our things, like sitar, tabla, but we love also another instrument because for us it's something different to really appreciate."
I'm hopelessly behind on other stuff that I want to write about here, so I'll get the ball rolling by spreading the word about Ari Joseph's supercool MP3 blog devoted to ... you guessed it... Brazilian music. It's called An Order of Progress and a Side of Fries, and I've only just begun to mine its treasures myself. One of the most exciting things about the blog is that Ari writes about very recent music as well as older stuff; in my experience it's much harder to find out what's going on in Brazil right now than to learn about its legendary past. I take it as a good sign that I haven't heard of many of the folks he writes about (or else I've heard of them without ever having heard the specific songs he writes about).
From Ari's blog I found my way to AudioScrobbler, a site that--with your permission--records what you listen to on your home computer and posts a constantly updated list for the world to see. (Well, it's designed so that only people whose taste overlaps with yours are likely to see your list.) This in turn becomes a tool that allows you to find other music you might be interested in, as organized in all sorts of ways. (Five minutes of browsing, and I found a grouping called "Gay Indie Lovers" which tells me I should check out The Libertines--something I probably wouldn't have done otherwise, even though I've seen their name dropped here and there for the last year or so.)
Normally I hate this sort of voluntary invasion of privacy, but, what the hell, I just woke up from a nap and decided to surrender still more of my inner life to the Matrix. So behold my playlist. (I do fear that the "party shuffle" mode of iTunes is going to portray me as a complete wacko, but so be it.)
"For India and for our Indian philosophy it say, any part of the world, we have to take the best thing of the world, we have to take the best thing of the person. That makes life. So today we have for example, there is harmonium, it comes from the English organ, and today we don't find it in England this instrument. And it's one of the most popular instruments in India, this is called harmonium. And so, we love also our things, like sitar, tabla, but we love also another instrument because for us it's something different to really appreciate."
I'm hopelessly behind on other stuff that I want to write about here, so I'll get the ball rolling by spreading the word about Ari Joseph's supercool MP3 blog devoted to ... you guessed it... Brazilian music. It's called An Order of Progress and a Side of Fries, and I've only just begun to mine its treasures myself. One of the most exciting things about the blog is that Ari writes about very recent music as well as older stuff; in my experience it's much harder to find out what's going on in Brazil right now than to learn about its legendary past. I take it as a good sign that I haven't heard of many of the folks he writes about (or else I've heard of them without ever having heard the specific songs he writes about).
From Ari's blog I found my way to AudioScrobbler, a site that--with your permission--records what you listen to on your home computer and posts a constantly updated list for the world to see. (Well, it's designed so that only people whose taste overlaps with yours are likely to see your list.) This in turn becomes a tool that allows you to find other music you might be interested in, as organized in all sorts of ways. (Five minutes of browsing, and I found a grouping called "Gay Indie Lovers" which tells me I should check out The Libertines--something I probably wouldn't have done otherwise, even though I've seen their name dropped here and there for the last year or so.)
Normally I hate this sort of voluntary invasion of privacy, but, what the hell, I just woke up from a nap and decided to surrender still more of my inner life to the Matrix. So behold my playlist. (I do fear that the "party shuffle" mode of iTunes is going to portray me as a complete wacko, but so be it.)
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
It's the same old song...
There were a pair of interesting music-related items on All Things Considered tonight. First, a story on a former fan who noticed striking similarities between two allegedly different Nickelback songs and then juxtaposed them to prove how close they really were. From there, a third Nickelback song and an Avril Lavigne (I think) tune got the same treatment. Interesting observations from various perspectives on the notion of difference in music (turns out Handel ripped himself off, even more blatantly), but to me the story was a beautiful illustration of exactly what I find so insanely uninteresting about so much pop/rock music since at least the heyday of postpunk, if not long before: same combination of guitar sounds and vocal mannerisms, over and over and over again.
The other item of interest was a rambling but fun commentary by the wife of a record store owner covering, among other things, the lazy writing of lots of music reviewers. While I don't agree with her when she seems to suggest that all she wants to know is what earlier artists a new, unknown one sounds like, I do share her frustration with the lazy, vague terminology writers trot out to describe music. (How useful is it to hear that a song is "luminous" or "incandescent"?) As a guy who earns a meager income from trying to find words for sounds (both as a critic and a record-company hack), it drives me nuts to see the same lazy, vague words hauled out over and over again. But I also know how hard it is to translate what's so wonderful--or awful--about a song into language.
Ah, Nickelback: luminous, incandescent Nickelback. Play it again, boys! Just give it a new name and hope nobody notices...
The other item of interest was a rambling but fun commentary by the wife of a record store owner covering, among other things, the lazy writing of lots of music reviewers. While I don't agree with her when she seems to suggest that all she wants to know is what earlier artists a new, unknown one sounds like, I do share her frustration with the lazy, vague terminology writers trot out to describe music. (How useful is it to hear that a song is "luminous" or "incandescent"?) As a guy who earns a meager income from trying to find words for sounds (both as a critic and a record-company hack), it drives me nuts to see the same lazy, vague words hauled out over and over again. But I also know how hard it is to translate what's so wonderful--or awful--about a song into language.
Ah, Nickelback: luminous, incandescent Nickelback. Play it again, boys! Just give it a new name and hope nobody notices...
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