Spoiled by music in college
Getting older, actually turning 67 yesterday, I was recently reflecting on the music I heard in college. I’ve spent a lot of time on campuses because my wife is a professor. We spent ten years with her teaching at Purdue. There were a few concerts of note that I remember there. John Cougar Mellenkamp came up from downstate. A Prairie Home Companion ran a live episode with Garrison Keillor. Dave Matthews came; I didn’t see him because I don’t like him that much but Jonah did. I don’t remember much else. I don’t remember concert series blowing me away. Now we’re at Binghamton University and they sometimes get good people. I don’t usually go but I went to see Judy Collins and Stephen Stills. I didn’t see America.
I was at Oberlin from the Fall of 1972 to the Spring of 1976. This is a partial list of who performed there when I was there, a list which in retrospect was insane, and I’ll probably miss a bunch I knew about. I missed performances I probably should have attended. I missed Bonnie Raitt. I missed two young Israeli violinists named Pinchas Zuckerman and Yitzak Perlman. I missed Doc and Merle Watson.
There were of course classical musicians. The Cleveland Symphony with Lorin Maazel came twice a year – they liked the acoustics of Finney Chapel, the building on the right in the photograph, where most of the concerts took place. We weren’t necessarily getting the world’s top classical players except in niches. The conservatory was big on Baroque music so the Baroque Orchestra of Cologne, Concentus Musicus Wien, Franz Bruggen – who was the most eminent recorder player in the world at the time – and Gustav Leonhardt – who was the most eminent harpsichordist in the world at the time – came. But most people reading this won’t be familiar with them.
There were the folk singers and musicians. The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. Pete Seeger. Ali Akhbar Khan and Alla Rakha. Leo Kottke – who I got to watch from second row center.
There weren’t too many eminent rock acts because they tended to be too expensive. They had to be selected carefully, and they were. Randy Newman. I had no idea who he was but guys I knew said I should go. Same with Loggins and Messina, just before they broke big. I heard Your Mama Don’t Dance for the first time live and they were so new they had to repeat a song for an encore. The Jerry Garcia Band.
A campus that size couldn’t afford great rock but someone there figured out that they could afford great jazz. Now the conservatory has a jazz wing. Then they didn’t. But the quality of the jazz acts was the most over the top. There will be people I forget. I think, but I’m not sure I remember, that we got Keith Jarret. The Preservation Hall Jazz Band from New Orleans. Herbie Hancock, unfortunately during the Headhunters tour. The Paul Winter Consort – which wasn’t standard jazz but probably fit into that category better than any other. Weather Report. Dave Brubeck and sons – Dave Brubeck had years before recorded Jazz On Campus at Oberlin and in doing so basically invented the college tour. Count Basie. Cannonball Adderly (with his brother Nat), not long before he died, one of the best concerts I’ve ever seen. Dizzy Gillespie. Duke Ellington – I haven’t seen sidemen that good before or since, guys in the band who should have been headliners. Like with Adderly, it wasn’t all that long before Ellington’s death either.
I can’t imagine a lineup like that on a campus now. But what’s craziest is the comparative size of the institutions I’ve spent time at. Purdue had about 35,000 students. Binghamton has about 18,000.
When I got to Oberlin it had about 2,800. It’s still about the same size.
Anonymous
10/02/2021 @ 5:27 pm
Happy belated birthday. If I read that correctly, your birthday is the day after mine.
Bitey
10/02/2021 @ 9:32 pm
I didn’t realize that my previous comment was anonymous.
koshersalaami
10/02/2021 @ 10:34 pm
Yes, I think they’re close. Happy belated birthday
jpHart
10/03/2021 @ 1:51 pm
You’re 69 working on 20!
Excellent thought stream: fresh air and optimism as definition of euphony. Potential premise: sentient humans {…} one extended family. Goodness through the ages! By the way exuberant vibes tranquil Sunday a.m. alright already:
Times Book Review roadside: (yep: I’m just a poor boy): multiple accolades quotes & oats {…}:
Mind Reader ~Tracy Smith: ‘THE AMERICAN POET Lucille Clifton once said: ‘ ” In the bigger scheme of things, the universe is not asking us to do something, the universe is asking us to be something. And that’s a whole different thing.” In Clifton’s mind, this proposition was not speculative but resolutely practical. What if we exist to serve as stewards of the planet rather than its plunderers? What if it is our calling to be equals of all living things rather than agents of their domination? In the face of all that we {…}
__________________________________________________________________
BEWILDERMENT ~ By Richard Powers, 278 pp. W.W. Norton & Company. $27.95
__________________________________________________________________
(sic) have waged, ruthless and unending battles for the right to get wrong, what would it take for us to accept a different role in the bigger scheme of things?”
How’s it that using so much everyday leads to abuse?
Heck, the venerable Walmart still has French bread @ a buck (U.S.) a loaf!
Gee whiz: few days after 48 years for the passing of the great Jim Croce…sorry for the ramblin’-gamblin’… heck, one’s not going to do Uncle Tom’s Cabin day X day … Indeed, where have all the flowers gone….T.Y. Kind Sir!
Ron Powell
10/03/2021 @ 3:01 pm
Happy Belated…
You can imagine who we got at Howard between ’64 and ”68….
What I learned by watching and listening during that period is immeasurable and, for me, invaluable…
jpHart
10/03/2021 @ 3:29 pm
No one herewith is a washtub musician! Floatin’ Sway! We the people know empiricism is not the 8th wonder of the world…! Ontheotherhand ~~~ just maybe THIS is GOOD NEWS WEEK ~~~
when the Rolling Stone asts me where my ‘automatic truisms’ come from I’ll say:
I count the hours until midnight and do one more good deed!
Now, if rates cooperate, my Afterthought, LLC and I will soon have our own 24/7 television channel with only a perpetual kaleidoscope💜
Right now, I’m going to cyber-about for that RN team in West Virginia and donate to their traveling show medicinal outreach endeavor. Also, I am really curious if the United Nation’s think tank would grace us with a dissertation on how to quell this promised land’s street violence?
Potentially germane to your auditory acuity, koshersalaami, I’d the delight of near polymorphous
ect-STA-sy enjoying Wynton Marsalis & bros in one of those New Orleans’ late hour red brick enclaves … once upon a time!
koshersalaami
10/03/2021 @ 7:58 pm
A friend of mine headed the audio installation at Jazz at Lincoln Center, which was Wynton’s project. My friend is a jazz fanatic. One day he went up to Wynton at the site and abruptly started scat singing some famous solo or other. Once Wynton figured out what he was doing, they’d often do that to each other.
jpHart
10/05/2021 @ 2:14 pm
Enthralled we were during that ground fog Summerfest Cher TAKE ME HOME TOUR and there was a succinct black out then dawn break as she encored radiant on that trapeze loudly:
ALL I EVER NEED IS YOU
fishnets etched on knee-crossed alabaster legs (goodness! monifique’! HER VOICE) and the next morning we two-laned the blue ribbons to HAYWARD echoing our French cassette of RUD KIPLING’S ‘IF’ riden’ riden’ my well-portered ’83 Toronado with those copper-hued meteor sparks over the hill while the sun✨ roof whispered hey-hey blue umbrella stars!
Nothing like Roberta’s yoga lessons on a hot pontoon deck Doc Koshersalaami! Golly now I have to search synonyms for euphonious?? O K DEN mellifluous … like: > freedom is just <
Heck I've nothing in the world to do other than all weather encase my brown tone RFK portrait.
Maybe get some smoke alarm batteries to Habitat. WowSur! 1st & last i gotta sweep …
JP Hart
12/02/2022 @ 3:24 pm
A Poem About A Kite
He’d an adjective adventure. Our bull by the horns awakening. Do’s and don’ts of the next step. Bite the dust — let’s not rhyme wonderlust. In God we trust. Count the roll. I know HEY! Clone a saxophone. Work it! Ephemeralty march with the chorus, alright: who-dat jitterbugging with Delorus? ‘Twas it a hologram? Peter Pan in bell clad magic slippers hewn of mushroom suade, shorn yet ribboned — whoa leap and spin — palms forward: her glint and grin! On his way go ahead and say, from the Arctic: green green red red blue sleigh flight swirl Sand Hill Cranes and star trails O! Holy Night … dark so early? Lord bright-light halos the pole perfect center? Will Buster Keaton Charlie Chaplin tap along: So this is Christmas? I’ve not even string nor yarn to bring and generally cough before I sing … ok several ellipsis … three wise men with old-time Oscars atop staffs … where are you and Joy going now my son … did’ja have a Christine McVie chat … cloud flyin’ dream —ascension whoa! Starburst lift-off all kinds of weather as eagles, doves blink soar vertically infinitely such as swoop and sail ‘along with bubbles upon ale. Tell ‘ya who what where wondering WHY when the angels got together I say look! Ashore! NOW now hear HEAR turn the beach stone: aqua splash warm tears:
PEACE ON EARTH
koshersalaami
12/02/2022 @ 9:34 pm
Did you lose a son?
JP Hart
12/02/2022 @ 11:19 pm
No.
Earnest heartfelt condolences to those who have lost precious innocents.
Love endures forever.
JP Hart
12/03/2022 @ 2:44 am
I re-read yours of 01/08/2021 ‘Jonah’s Yorzeit, that time of year again’ as time and stunned grief meld yet accelerate. Perhaps this onset ‘deep and dark December’ already feels the ‘pall of grief’ as once more the years corner, pages turn, bottomless nostalgia reflects. May peace be with you!
koshersalaami
12/04/2022 @ 9:31 am
I wondered about “Christine McVie chat.” I thought you might mean post-mortem.
The pall could be worse. I miss my son but his memory doesn’t generally make me sad. It makes my wife sad.
I reacted oddly to his death. We were extremely close but I didn’t fall apart. At one point I worried that I hadn’t fallen apart; I was afraid I’d be walking down the street one day and it would overwhelmingly hit me. So I did something smart: I went to see his psychologist. I was in a lot of those sessions, not all of them for all the time. That way I didn’t need a bunch of sessions explaining who he was, what he was like, what our relationship was like; the psychologist knew it all up front. It took one session.
One thing that helped me a great deal was talking to my sister after he died. My sister lost her husband man years ago to brain cancer and on his way out his behavior got erratic, as in he’d get lost and the police would find him on someone’s lawn and bring him home, so she had two stresses: the stress of his decline and the stress of his death. And she had a couple of very young daughters.
She told me to be careful of relief guilt. This may be the single most important piece of advice I ever got, aside from maybe not to worry too much about what other people think. Raising him was difficult and when he died life got sadder and lighter. I preferred happier and heavier. Raising a kid with severe cerebral palsy wasn’t easy and the worry was compounded by his not being interested in academics, so I didn’t know how he could contribute to his own care after I was gone. So there was sadness but also relief about that responsibility being gone, both present and future. I didn’t ask for it. I ultimately viewed it as a God-given cushion to help me deal with his death. I lost my son, so I’ll take whatever I can get, thank you.
Of anything I’ve ever done, I probably shortchanged my son least. I didn’t feel any guilt at all about how I’d been as a father, not that I made no mistakes but I made no mistakes of not enough or not caring. I paced myself but I left it all on the table. I did what I could. I never felt unloved by someone who was for a while an extremely angry teenager once he figured out that he wasn’t going to outgrow his CP. (I did not create that illusion. I also had no idea what technology would come when.)
In part due to what my sister told me, in part because I felt no guilt about my fatherhood, and in part because of my own nature, what the psychologist concluded was that I’d done about eight months of processing his death in a matter of hours. I didn’t ask him if he’d ever seen this before. He didn’t act like he had. It’s certainly not a point of pride for me, it just is and I’m grateful for it. If you ever read – who knows if I’ll move the Tales of J series here – my first post after his death I talk about how I wasn’t falling apart and how that was strange. I kept the comments that were still up when I copied that post – some were gone because people had left OS and their comments had vanished. Some of the most helpful comments were from people who are here on Bindlesnitch. I don’t think they remember leaving them. That kind of figures – it was way more momentous for me than for them. People who don’t remember that they knew me then left comments.
Blogging is an oddly good way to deal with stuff like that. It’s a reason to process things. I posted about my father’s death while I was in the middle of all of it, within 24 hours of his death and before he was buried. That way I’d know later what it was like. And there’s no reason not to write because any of it might help someone else going through something similar or analogous. I didn’t see much blogging like that. A bit, though some way after the fact. Margaret Feike, the person whose writing probably impressed me most on OS wrote some personal things about death. Though not after James. If nothing else, James should not have done that to her. An odd thing to say, perhaps, but we do owe the ones we love. To do that is to consent to hurting them deeply. It would take a tremendous amount to get me to consider suicide for the same reason that I would never cheat on my wife: The act would cause too much pain to someone I care about. How people can cause that kind of pain for their own pleasure is beyond me. And they always seem to look in the wrong direction in the aftermath. “He/she means nothing to me.” That’s not the point. The point is what I didn’t mean to you when you did it. No, I have not been cheated on to my knowledge. I just understand the point. Not the turn I expected tis to take and I never equated suicide with cheating before but they are similar in that respect. I know, in other ways they’re different. Mental illness can make you believe strange things, like “they’ll be better off without me.” Usually No, they won’t. They’ll be hurt in ways you can’t imagine. You will leave a void that you are not bothering to try to understand.
I took an ADHD drug once that made me suicidal. I never knew what that drug warning meant. I learned, in bed late one night in a hotel room with my sleeping wife and kids, feeling really hopeless about something financial and having an urge to walk into traffic. I didn’t want to wake my wife. I didn’t want to depress her with whatever was worrying me. So I remembered that the hotel ran a television in the lobby and I got up to go watch thinking it might calm me down. It did. I went back to bed and in the morning told my wife about it. She’s the daughter of a nurse and the first thing she asked was “Did you just start a new med?” “Yes.” “Stop taking it Right Now.” Turns out the med had that side effect.
I’ll stop now. This is enough.
JP Hart
12/04/2022 @ 9:22 pm
WOW!
THANK YOU!
… now I don’t have to climb Kilimanjaro …
+ Lord have Mercy +
JP Hart
12/05/2022 @ 1:28 am
(Something @ BLUE rhymes:1962)
{…} I never felt unloved by someone who was for a while an extremely angry
teenager once he figured out that he wasn’t going to outgrow his CP {…}
Poignant precious Waukesha Wisconsin weekend.
We’re fessed up in Milwaukee Brewers’ summer breeze attire STRONG.
Willie and Friends
“Live and Kicking”
Radiant Grandiloquent mothers+fathers+brothers+sisters: we wave to
Jackson Sparks and Delaney Krings atop a snowclad hill.
Then Jonah dances like Martin Short on that RFK Memorial staircase.
Now I am al.go.rithm back to O/E Etymology focused once upon a time:
BLUE-BLUE-BLUE
[LO;}a triad-hologramLO;}]
Morrison /|\ Hendrix /|\ Prince
(Something @ BLUE rhymes:1962)
JP Hart
01/27/2023 @ 1:19 pm
One of my favorite blogs since ’09 … eerie that a scant 15 months has wantonly shifted the geopolitical . Whoa such an implosion of the GOP. An acceleration of Russia’s dastardly aggression. NATO’s line in the sand. The law of unintended consequences assuredly zooms sardoodledom faster than the speed of situation normal all freaked out. So cold here even the cheek-deep snow sculptures have static cling … hey Willie Nelson’s two day concert celebrating his 90th birthday April 29-30 (!)Hollywood Bowl(!) Just can’t wait to get on the road again. [see what I mean? All the good words have been taken!] Yessiree: I’ll raise you a LO;} just like pack the car and go. Unless Helix Nebula blinks.
JP Hart
01/28/2023 @ 7:23 pm
Well I’ve HAIKU
The Last Poems of an American Icon RICHARD WRIGHT [ISBN] 978-1-61145-349-2 ARCADE PUB 1998 … — … … — … … — … … — … … —. ..
Here in bag snow drifts
eyebrow height crepuscular eve
amber strobe beachball
Skateboard joyous clack
particulate curb glass wafts
both hands pierced, mom
San Francisco cap
digression of geese V breeze
alone on the pavement
’57 Chevy clutch
engine radio, hey baby
convertible dolphin blue
1962 world
beach sand half shells stone wells
seven-eleven bench