We've had a bit of snow recently. Two Sundays ago a little more than an inch fell. It was heavy and wet and when the temperatures climbed last Monday, most of it melted away before it got below freezing since then.
Saturday night, we got a good one. Probably close to eight inches, but this one was a little different than the 17 snows of 2012-13. It was also wet and heavy, almost sleety, not fluffy at all. The temps were right around that magic level between snow-ice-rain. In fact, on Sunday it was just above freezing so the wet snow kind of settled and packed before we could get too much of it cleared away from the region.
So when it turned sharply cold Monday, that snowy mess became crusty and icy. So now in most of the area we have a strange crunch of snow-crust.
Last night, driving home late, the pack looked really weird... it appeared to have the consistency you may have seen in low-budget concrete, like the walls of a municipal swimming pool. Kind of plastic-y. I've never seen anything like it. The street lights bouncing off this odd texture gave it a waxy, artificial sheen. It's kind of ugly.
We won't have to look at if for long, though, because today we've got a new layer coming down. It started a couple of hours ago and is expected to continue into mid-evening, dropping up to five or six inches of fresh powder. This snow looks fluffy and light, although driving around a bit ago, it hit the windshield as small pellets. Seems this year's theme so far is Schizo-Snow.
It is probably going to cause some problems, because the pre-existing PlastiSnow is ice-encrusted. Friday through Sunday, temperatures are forecast in the mid-40s, with some rain. If that happens, it might cut this slop down a bit. But tonight it could be a mess.
This has been Snow Report 1 for the 2013-14 Boston winter.
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
Friday, November 22, 2013
Clint
The 50th anniversary of JFK's assassination is tomorrow.
M's grandmother now lives in Israel, but when the murder happened, she lived behind the Iron Curtain, with only state-run TV available, and that seen in public spaces. She remembers what happened. It was global news, history made and changed.
In an American Terrible Top 10 list, JFK's murder would be a contender for the top spot with 9/11, Pearl Harbor, Lincoln, the Civil War and the New York Yankees.
***
When I was in Dallas, I worked with a handful of people who had strong recollections of that awful day and weekend. Several had been in Dealey Plaza. Carol worked for D.A. Henry Wade (of Roe v. Wade fame). His office overlooked Dealey and she was in the crowd that day. She told me she was interviewed by government officials and told to keep quiet. Harry said the same thing; he saw things that he thought curious and was told he was mistaken. Tommy sold ads at the paper just a few blocks away from the site; on 11/22, he was chatting with a client in his office. Well-known guy named Jack Ruby.
Then there was Clint.
***
I met Clint Grant in 1990. He was 73 then and officially "retired" from a lauded career as a photographer at the Dallas Morning News. Clint was a spry old dude who was doing part-time freelance shooting for us. He died three years ago.
One day Clint and I drove to White Rock Lake to take some pics of a forgotten vehicle called a Sterling. (Sterling was a failed British marque that sold fewer than 40,000 cars in the U.S. in its 1987-92 run.)
Being young and oblivious, I had no idea then of the things that Clint had seen or the great things he'd accomplished. He was extremely well-regarded. I just knew him to be a sharp-eyed photographer, and a wonderful man.
Somehow the topic of the Kennedy assassination came up.
He was there. In the motorcade.
***
JFK's visit to Texas was huge news. And it was a political trip... with an eye toward the 1964 election, which was less than a year away, Kennedy wanted to make sure and lock up Texas as he had when he narrowly won in 1960. Having LBJ on the bill was essential, and making a good impression on the state was a smart play. He'd wing his way through most of the state's key cities, and for good measure he'd bring his best asset: Jackie.
It was the first time she'd accompany him on a domestic tour.
And the last.
Because the trip was so highly anticipated, the newspaper sent reporters -- and Clint -- to D.C. to document the historic visit. Clint was around the president a lot in those final days.
The presidential entourage in Texas included Air Force One and two other planes. Clint said that appearances were carefully orchestrated. It's a 30-minute drive from Fort Worth, where the president and first lady awoke on a rainy Nov. 22, 1963, to Dallas, where history awaited. But Air Force One took off from Fort Worth, and the entourage jets followed. Then, the entourage jets landed first at Dallas Love Field, deplaned to get in position for the presidential arrival, and then Air Force One landed.
Clint was there as the president and his wife emerged at Love Field. In one photo, the smiling couple greets the crowd, with LBJ and Texas gov. John Connally in the background. Clint took that.
***
Not long after my conversations with Clint, I came to work early one morning and pulled my chair out from under my desk. On it was an unmarked manila folder with a note from Clint saying simply, "You might find these interesting."
For more than 20 years I've marveled at these photos. Would you like to see them?
M's grandmother now lives in Israel, but when the murder happened, she lived behind the Iron Curtain, with only state-run TV available, and that seen in public spaces. She remembers what happened. It was global news, history made and changed.
In an American Terrible Top 10 list, JFK's murder would be a contender for the top spot with 9/11, Pearl Harbor, Lincoln, the Civil War and the New York Yankees.
***
When I was in Dallas, I worked with a handful of people who had strong recollections of that awful day and weekend. Several had been in Dealey Plaza. Carol worked for D.A. Henry Wade (of Roe v. Wade fame). His office overlooked Dealey and she was in the crowd that day. She told me she was interviewed by government officials and told to keep quiet. Harry said the same thing; he saw things that he thought curious and was told he was mistaken. Tommy sold ads at the paper just a few blocks away from the site; on 11/22, he was chatting with a client in his office. Well-known guy named Jack Ruby.
Then there was Clint.
***
I met Clint Grant in 1990. He was 73 then and officially "retired" from a lauded career as a photographer at the Dallas Morning News. Clint was a spry old dude who was doing part-time freelance shooting for us. He died three years ago.
One day Clint and I drove to White Rock Lake to take some pics of a forgotten vehicle called a Sterling. (Sterling was a failed British marque that sold fewer than 40,000 cars in the U.S. in its 1987-92 run.)
Being young and oblivious, I had no idea then of the things that Clint had seen or the great things he'd accomplished. He was extremely well-regarded. I just knew him to be a sharp-eyed photographer, and a wonderful man.
Somehow the topic of the Kennedy assassination came up.
He was there. In the motorcade.
***
JFK's visit to Texas was huge news. And it was a political trip... with an eye toward the 1964 election, which was less than a year away, Kennedy wanted to make sure and lock up Texas as he had when he narrowly won in 1960. Having LBJ on the bill was essential, and making a good impression on the state was a smart play. He'd wing his way through most of the state's key cities, and for good measure he'd bring his best asset: Jackie.
It was the first time she'd accompany him on a domestic tour.
And the last.
Because the trip was so highly anticipated, the newspaper sent reporters -- and Clint -- to D.C. to document the historic visit. Clint was around the president a lot in those final days.
The presidential entourage in Texas included Air Force One and two other planes. Clint said that appearances were carefully orchestrated. It's a 30-minute drive from Fort Worth, where the president and first lady awoke on a rainy Nov. 22, 1963, to Dallas, where history awaited. But Air Force One took off from Fort Worth, and the entourage jets followed. Then, the entourage jets landed first at Dallas Love Field, deplaned to get in position for the presidential arrival, and then Air Force One landed.
Clint was there as the president and his wife emerged at Love Field. In one photo, the smiling couple greets the crowd, with LBJ and Texas gov. John Connally in the background. Clint took that.
***
Not long after my conversations with Clint, I came to work early one morning and pulled my chair out from under my desk. On it was an unmarked manila folder with a note from Clint saying simply, "You might find these interesting."
For more than 20 years I've marveled at these photos. Would you like to see them?
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
JFK
My mother says that when Jack Ruby shot Lee Harvey Oswald, I turned from the TV and asked her: "Did he shoot him?"
I don't remember that, but I did remember that the man she worked for was named Jonsson, and the new president was going to be a guy from Texas named Johnson, and I thought her boss was going to be the next president.
***
It was a confusing time, and it must have been even more confusing for people beyond their fourth birthday, which was still almost half a year away for me.
A few years later, when Bobby was murdered just a couple of months after MLK was, it just seemed to me that that was what we did in this country. We just killed people, especially leaders, especially Kennedys.
I mean, after all, we were killing "Viet Cong" -- or was it "Kong?" -- and we were beating students at national political conferences, and we were killing students/hippies at Kent State, and we were hosing down "negroes" and we were basically just the Ugly Americans that people around the globe said we were.
Killing was something we did.
***
Growing up in Dallas, the city carried a guilt about what happened to JFK on its streets. And that's a shame, because Dallas had nothing to do with it other than being the tragic venue. I'm pretty sure whoever killed him wouldn't have had the same kind of luck had the day that dawned with rain not cleared up. That open-air car would not have happened, and shooters from whatever vantage point would have had to wait for another day.
***
For years, I drove through Dealey Plaza every single day on my way to work just a few blocks away. From my office window, I could peer down Houston street and see that building that skulks above Elm Street. When Oliver Stone reenacted 11/22/63 for his movie, I watched one day as he did several takes showing a car with actors round onto Houston and then make that ridiculous left onto Elm, hear the echoes of shots and screams as the terrible crime was reimagined.
***
It was sometime in the 70s when I became fascinated with this case and its lingering questions. Mark Lane's "Rush To Judgment" opened the door I walked through. Zapruder proved the lie. It simply couldn't have happened the way Warren said it did.
I've read so many books and articles on the JFK case I can't remember all of them. Some were ridiculous. Some were scarily believable. All of them question what we were told. By the time Nixon was evicted in 1974, it was obvious that the government -- or at least parts of it -- were serial liars with their own agenda and couldn't be trusted.
***
Stone's "JFK" took a peripheral conspiracy character and gave him more credence than he deserved. Jim Garrison indeed had some interesting discoveries, as well as the guts to come forward with them. The New Orleans angle -- Oswald was born there -- has a role in this story. Carlos Marcello, David Ferrie, Guy Banister, Clay Shaw/Bertrand -- all of these people floated in a cesspool of curious activities and had paths cross. Marcello was a mob boss, ingloriously deported twice by AG RFK, and pissed about it. Ferrie was a spook. Banister was a loose cannon with CIA ties.
It was a stew of people with one thing in common: They didn't like the Kennedys, communists or Castro. The mob lost millions when Castro took over Cuba and ran them off. The CIA and the other hawks in government needed an enemy, and they didn't want interference. The CIA made money off of shady dealings, such as working with the mafia in moving drugs (which they'd later need to get through a pipeline into a southeastern Asian hellhole colloquially called "French Indochina").
The mob and the CIA were in bed together. JFK made life hard on both of them. The hate was real, and the mob and the CIA were trained killers. Taking out bigwigs was a challenge. But not impossible. They had means, motive, and opportunity.
All they needed was a patsy.
***
I don't think we'll ever know what really happened. We know parts of the story. The rest you have to kind of connect the dots.
***
I never expected to be in Boston. It's fascinating to have trod repeatedly in the places where JFK died. Now I've been around where he was born and lived. The home where he was born is just a few miles away in Brookline on a beautiful street with a stunning canopy of old trees.
Massachusetts has an unequaled history as a place where great American leaders have earned their stripes. It didn't start with Kennedy. He was just one of the most recent.
There is a lot of anticipation about the 50th anniversary of the assassination. JFK's library is going to have artifacts on display from the funeral. Just thinking about it makes me teary.
The murder of JFK was a blight on the American Dream, an awful stain on the hopes of our ideals. This young imperfect and flawed visionary broke barriers and grew before a nation's eyes... only to be cut down by the most venal and base zealots and criminals on the other side of the American character. Senseless crimes happen, but Oswald had no reason or motive to do it. Plenty of others did, and in this sick, cynical nation... they did just that.
Oswald was a weird little dude, and died with a lot of secrets. But he wasn't capable of killing a president.
I don't remember that, but I did remember that the man she worked for was named Jonsson, and the new president was going to be a guy from Texas named Johnson, and I thought her boss was going to be the next president.
***
It was a confusing time, and it must have been even more confusing for people beyond their fourth birthday, which was still almost half a year away for me.
A few years later, when Bobby was murdered just a couple of months after MLK was, it just seemed to me that that was what we did in this country. We just killed people, especially leaders, especially Kennedys.
I mean, after all, we were killing "Viet Cong" -- or was it "Kong?" -- and we were beating students at national political conferences, and we were killing students/hippies at Kent State, and we were hosing down "negroes" and we were basically just the Ugly Americans that people around the globe said we were.
Killing was something we did.
***
Growing up in Dallas, the city carried a guilt about what happened to JFK on its streets. And that's a shame, because Dallas had nothing to do with it other than being the tragic venue. I'm pretty sure whoever killed him wouldn't have had the same kind of luck had the day that dawned with rain not cleared up. That open-air car would not have happened, and shooters from whatever vantage point would have had to wait for another day.
***
For years, I drove through Dealey Plaza every single day on my way to work just a few blocks away. From my office window, I could peer down Houston street and see that building that skulks above Elm Street. When Oliver Stone reenacted 11/22/63 for his movie, I watched one day as he did several takes showing a car with actors round onto Houston and then make that ridiculous left onto Elm, hear the echoes of shots and screams as the terrible crime was reimagined.
***
It was sometime in the 70s when I became fascinated with this case and its lingering questions. Mark Lane's "Rush To Judgment" opened the door I walked through. Zapruder proved the lie. It simply couldn't have happened the way Warren said it did.
I've read so many books and articles on the JFK case I can't remember all of them. Some were ridiculous. Some were scarily believable. All of them question what we were told. By the time Nixon was evicted in 1974, it was obvious that the government -- or at least parts of it -- were serial liars with their own agenda and couldn't be trusted.
***
Stone's "JFK" took a peripheral conspiracy character and gave him more credence than he deserved. Jim Garrison indeed had some interesting discoveries, as well as the guts to come forward with them. The New Orleans angle -- Oswald was born there -- has a role in this story. Carlos Marcello, David Ferrie, Guy Banister, Clay Shaw/Bertrand -- all of these people floated in a cesspool of curious activities and had paths cross. Marcello was a mob boss, ingloriously deported twice by AG RFK, and pissed about it. Ferrie was a spook. Banister was a loose cannon with CIA ties.
It was a stew of people with one thing in common: They didn't like the Kennedys, communists or Castro. The mob lost millions when Castro took over Cuba and ran them off. The CIA and the other hawks in government needed an enemy, and they didn't want interference. The CIA made money off of shady dealings, such as working with the mafia in moving drugs (which they'd later need to get through a pipeline into a southeastern Asian hellhole colloquially called "French Indochina").
The mob and the CIA were in bed together. JFK made life hard on both of them. The hate was real, and the mob and the CIA were trained killers. Taking out bigwigs was a challenge. But not impossible. They had means, motive, and opportunity.
All they needed was a patsy.
***
I don't think we'll ever know what really happened. We know parts of the story. The rest you have to kind of connect the dots.
***
I never expected to be in Boston. It's fascinating to have trod repeatedly in the places where JFK died. Now I've been around where he was born and lived. The home where he was born is just a few miles away in Brookline on a beautiful street with a stunning canopy of old trees.
Massachusetts has an unequaled history as a place where great American leaders have earned their stripes. It didn't start with Kennedy. He was just one of the most recent.
There is a lot of anticipation about the 50th anniversary of the assassination. JFK's library is going to have artifacts on display from the funeral. Just thinking about it makes me teary.
The murder of JFK was a blight on the American Dream, an awful stain on the hopes of our ideals. This young imperfect and flawed visionary broke barriers and grew before a nation's eyes... only to be cut down by the most venal and base zealots and criminals on the other side of the American character. Senseless crimes happen, but Oswald had no reason or motive to do it. Plenty of others did, and in this sick, cynical nation... they did just that.
Oswald was a weird little dude, and died with a lot of secrets. But he wasn't capable of killing a president.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
How time flies
Curiously, almost exactly one year ago this very minute, I was in the vicinity of St. Louis.
We were passing through on our move to Boston.
Tonight, St. Louis -- or at least, its baseball team -- was passing through Boston. The Red Sox won the World Series tonight in the city for the first time since 1918.
Technically, it's Oct. 31 as I sit here. Which completes a full calendar year since our arrival Nov. 1, 2012.
What an amazing year it's been. I can hardly keep track of all the eventful things that have happened... a blizzard. Substitute teaching, my first week of which ended on the day of the Sandy Hook shootings just a couple of hours away. The marathon attack and its weird aftermath. A Stanley Cup final. The Whitey Bulger trial. The Aaron Hernandez murder(s?). Record heat. Blessed employment! Two horrific local crimes against young women that show the ugly side of life.
I've made major adjustments to my comfort zone... heavy usage of public transportation, dealing with the erratic persona of this place, living in a completely different environment. It's been fascinating, but...
... living here can be exhausting. The pace is frantic, and got even moreso when I began full-time work. I've stepped up my game, but I've had to.
Maybe the most disappointing aspect of life here is how difficult it is to make friends. My social circle has been small for a long time, and that's been by design -- the quality of friendship is much more important than the size of it. Individually, people here can be very warm and responsive, but collectively, there's a hardness and aloofness that is disappointing. I just don't want to succumb to that.
It's strange for me, this friend thing. It's like people are too busy for it. There is absolutely a bit of clannishness to it that seems to be in place... people run with the people they've run with for years, and few of the circles overlap. Plus it's hard to develop friends from your work contacts because there's always that line out there that no one knows for sure where it is, and when the discomfort begins.
I could probably riff on this a lot more, but even talking about it makes me feel odd.
Anyway. It's certainly been an interesting year. And if nothing else, it's served as a reminder that things can change very, very quickly. Will we be here in a year? Five years? Is this the place to put down roots? It's hard to know. Career-wise, things are going in a good direction. Life-wise, it's acceptable if a little socially stunted.
It's an interesting, stimulating place with lots of opportunities and potential, if a little cool. What will Year 2 bring?
We were passing through on our move to Boston.
Tonight, St. Louis -- or at least, its baseball team -- was passing through Boston. The Red Sox won the World Series tonight in the city for the first time since 1918.
Technically, it's Oct. 31 as I sit here. Which completes a full calendar year since our arrival Nov. 1, 2012.
What an amazing year it's been. I can hardly keep track of all the eventful things that have happened... a blizzard. Substitute teaching, my first week of which ended on the day of the Sandy Hook shootings just a couple of hours away. The marathon attack and its weird aftermath. A Stanley Cup final. The Whitey Bulger trial. The Aaron Hernandez murder(s?). Record heat. Blessed employment! Two horrific local crimes against young women that show the ugly side of life.
I've made major adjustments to my comfort zone... heavy usage of public transportation, dealing with the erratic persona of this place, living in a completely different environment. It's been fascinating, but...
... living here can be exhausting. The pace is frantic, and got even moreso when I began full-time work. I've stepped up my game, but I've had to.
Maybe the most disappointing aspect of life here is how difficult it is to make friends. My social circle has been small for a long time, and that's been by design -- the quality of friendship is much more important than the size of it. Individually, people here can be very warm and responsive, but collectively, there's a hardness and aloofness that is disappointing. I just don't want to succumb to that.
It's strange for me, this friend thing. It's like people are too busy for it. There is absolutely a bit of clannishness to it that seems to be in place... people run with the people they've run with for years, and few of the circles overlap. Plus it's hard to develop friends from your work contacts because there's always that line out there that no one knows for sure where it is, and when the discomfort begins.
I could probably riff on this a lot more, but even talking about it makes me feel odd.
Anyway. It's certainly been an interesting year. And if nothing else, it's served as a reminder that things can change very, very quickly. Will we be here in a year? Five years? Is this the place to put down roots? It's hard to know. Career-wise, things are going in a good direction. Life-wise, it's acceptable if a little socially stunted.
It's an interesting, stimulating place with lots of opportunities and potential, if a little cool. What will Year 2 bring?
Saturday, October 12, 2013
Status
I'm tired.
Our schedules are not helping right now. There's pretty much something scheduled from 6:45 a.m. until about 1 or 2 a.m. every day. And no real way to avoid it.
Only the dogs are getting any sleep. I'm envious.
Theoretically things will get a little less crazy next month. Theoretically.
Our schedules are not helping right now. There's pretty much something scheduled from 6:45 a.m. until about 1 or 2 a.m. every day. And no real way to avoid it.
Only the dogs are getting any sleep. I'm envious.
Theoretically things will get a little less crazy next month. Theoretically.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Oh life
So yeah, while I transition back into the life of a working man, I've been laying low, for a variety of reasons.
One of them is that I just don't have as much time anymore. I've developed a fondness for the ease of public transportation. The T has some issues, but overall it's kind of neat to walk out of my house and be where I need to be less than an hour later. It gives me time to survey the scene and kind of mentally get into it.
But, there's 10 hours less of day available for me now.
This is a good thing. My days are very busy. And I really like my new situation; the people are good, and dedicated. Naturally there is always a stump or two, but I'm driving around those potholes.
Last night we had a major project that required all hands on deck and a late night. The big boss sprung for pizza. I thought it would be nice to send a thank-you note; they probably don't get them very often. It was acknowledged almost immediately.
I like that. Especially here, there is a component of douchiness that I was surprised by. For a place with so much diversity and so much education, there are byproducts I didn't anticipate. A lot of people have a sense of entitlement and elitism that is pretty ugly. It shows up in different ways... the disregard for others in the form of trashing the streets, people in groups acting like asses (like last night at the Tasty Burger in Harvard Square), rude people (I'm looking at you, MacDude), aggressive and selfish drivers. Each of these examples are commonplace.
I've tried really hard to be the "nice" person in each of these settings. Hopefully it might spark some acceptance of the Social Contract.
In addition to not being able to write much, and while I am again grateful to have such a great job, in some ways I feel like I'm missing things. I'm just super busy. I have been working really hard to make a good impression at work, and then there are the usual life things one must do at home.
One thing all this has convinced me of is the importance of taking better care of my physical health. I need to get stronger. Time to stop talking and start chalking.
One of them is that I just don't have as much time anymore. I've developed a fondness for the ease of public transportation. The T has some issues, but overall it's kind of neat to walk out of my house and be where I need to be less than an hour later. It gives me time to survey the scene and kind of mentally get into it.
But, there's 10 hours less of day available for me now.
This is a good thing. My days are very busy. And I really like my new situation; the people are good, and dedicated. Naturally there is always a stump or two, but I'm driving around those potholes.
Last night we had a major project that required all hands on deck and a late night. The big boss sprung for pizza. I thought it would be nice to send a thank-you note; they probably don't get them very often. It was acknowledged almost immediately.
I like that. Especially here, there is a component of douchiness that I was surprised by. For a place with so much diversity and so much education, there are byproducts I didn't anticipate. A lot of people have a sense of entitlement and elitism that is pretty ugly. It shows up in different ways... the disregard for others in the form of trashing the streets, people in groups acting like asses (like last night at the Tasty Burger in Harvard Square), rude people (I'm looking at you, MacDude), aggressive and selfish drivers. Each of these examples are commonplace.
I've tried really hard to be the "nice" person in each of these settings. Hopefully it might spark some acceptance of the Social Contract.
In addition to not being able to write much, and while I am again grateful to have such a great job, in some ways I feel like I'm missing things. I'm just super busy. I have been working really hard to make a good impression at work, and then there are the usual life things one must do at home.
One thing all this has convinced me of is the importance of taking better care of my physical health. I need to get stronger. Time to stop talking and start chalking.
Friday, September 13, 2013
Mr. Steely Dan Whatever
My first concert was in August 1973 at the Cotton Bowl in Dallas.
Elton John was touring in support of Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. An epic album.
His opening act was a little band called Steely Dan. I didn't realize at the time how fortunate I was to see them, because soon they would retreat to the studio and cease touring.
In 1973, they had just released the followup, Countdown to Ecstasy, to their huge debut smash, Can't Buy A Thrill.
Like a lot of acts I like, they defy easy categorization. Talking Heads, the Verve, Radiohead all fit into this category. They're true originals.
People who weren't around in the 70s sometimes have a hard time accessing the Dan. It was the same way then. In a time where rock had transitioned from the glorious sounds of the 60s, you had a softening (such as Elton, or the Eagles, or Chicago) taking over. Then you had disco. OMG, disco. It wasn't until punk burst onto the scene in the late 70s that it was safe to rock again. Their sound never fit into any of those cubbies. Detractors ragged them for being ... something else. I never quite got the argument. Outsiders.
Steely rocked, but really never dabbled much in the mainstream of the time. Instead, these wry, cynical New Yorkers made jazzy, crisply produced layered music with lyrics that were cleverly subversive. The irresistibly catchy "Kid Charlemagne" may be one of the best examples of this; it's so fun yet describes a world so corrupt and characters far beyond the socially acceptable. Wrapped up in such beautiful sounds, Steely was really an outlaw in our eyes.
For anyone who was socially awkward -- say, a too-large teenager in 70s Texas who liked reading books, as a theoretical -- the persona we picked up from Steely's main men, Walter Becker and Donald Fagen, provided a safe place. Here were guys who were clearly damned good, and successful. But they were also seemingly a bit aloof, reclusive, perhaps somewhat nerdy, opinionated, smart-mouthed but smart, socially conscious and aware (not to mention self-aware) -- and yes, socially awkward.
They gave voice to those of us who spent way too much time worrying about shit that would soon sort itself out anyway, hopefully while we were growing out of our awkwardness.
They seemed like dorks who somehow got invited to the party. A little like Farmer Ted in Sixteen Candles, or McLovin in Superbad. Once you got to know them, you realized how cool they really were. And once they got to the party, they didn't lose who they were. They remembered being on the outside, being the last one picked at sports. They came to the party, but they didn't become insiders, they became the ones who had never sold out their values and thus were able to stay above the maelstrom of horseshit. You identified with them. (Well, at least, I did.)
This position suited them perfectly to go back into their studio caves and write scathing rips of what constituted 70s LA "society." And yet they never lost their heart. They couldn't believe the artifice of the world they found themselves in -- and the idiots they made fun of sucked up to them and gave them ringside seats to the circus. Nevertheless, as they went back and crafted these beautiful, rich, lush songs that hid turdburgers (with onions!) for the Jet Set.
For those of us with them, it was delightful. We got the joke. I wonder if the butts of them ever did.
I've just loved these guys forever. Hell -- this blog is named after one of their lyrics.
M has been surprised that I've been so excited about seeing them in a couple of weeks. They're playing two nights here -- one night they're doing Aja in its entirety, in sequence, and the next night a "Greatest Hits" show.
I only remember a few things about seeing them in 1973. I know they opened with "Bodhisattva" and that it fucking rocked. (And was immortalized in a live version from '74 in Santa Monica when a drunken roadie hilariously stumbled through an introduction -- you MUST listen to it sometime.) I seem to recall the "hits" "Reelin' in the Years," "Dirty Work," "Do It Again," and stuff from Countdown. "Show Biz Kids" (they said "fuck," pretty scandalous in 1973), probably "My Old School." I know they did "King of the World." I hope they did "The Boston Rag."
I loved Elton, and remember his opener ("Love Lies Bleeding/Candle in the Wind") and it was great. But I remember more about the Steely show.
This tour, they've been doing about 20 songs a night. I'm going to pick some I'd love to hear. To me, almost everything they did over the course of seven albums released over the eight years between 1972-80 was a "hit."
Here's what my dream Steely concert would have, from each album:
Can't Buy A Thrill: Do It Again, Dirty Work, Reelin' In The Years, Brooklyn. I'd also love to hear Only A Fool Would Say That. Change of the Guard would be cool, too. There's almost no chance that they'll do anything other than Do It Again and Reelin. Pity.
Countdown to Ecstasy: Bodhisattva, The Boston Rag (duh), Show Biz Kids, My Old School. Bodhisattva and My Old School are locks. Rag has a chance; they've played it here before.
Pretzel Logic: Rikki Don't Lose That Number, Any Major Dude Will Tell You, Pretzel Logic. All three have a chance. Rikki's a lock.
Katy Lied: My least-favorite album, outside of maybe Black Friday, nothing here is a must for me.
The Royal Scam: Play the whole goddam thing! They're actually doing this in New York on Oct. 3. Hey, I don't have to work that day... Anyway, they must play Kid Charlemagne. Would sure love Don't Take Me Alive and Haitian Divorce.
Aja: In anticipation of this show, I've been revisiting this. What an amazing album. I used to not love Peg so much because it was so ubiquitous, and, Yah Moe Be. They won't play I Got The News, but if they do... wow. Really hopeful to hear Aja and Josie.
Gaucho: When this album came out the band was in turmoil, and we all knew it would be their last. It was a terrible realization, that it was over (Except it wasn't, but that's another story). I remember the night I bought this and came home and we listened to the album. As the last notes of "Third World Man" played out, I was filled with an overwhelming sadness that Steely Dan was over. Seven amazing stories told in song.
So there you have it. In a show where they'll play maybe 20 songs, I have 42 I want to hear.
I guess that means I'll have a good time.
(NOTE: Theoretically my first concert could be considered a performance by Dolly Parton and Porter Wagoner at the Texas State Prison Rodeo. Oddly enough, I saw both the rodeo and those country acts on a church trip in October 1971. I'm not counting this as my first concert.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)