THE SIGNAL by David Katznelson
"The human heart has hidden treasures, In secret kept, in silence sealed; The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures, Whose charms were broken if revealed."-Charlotte Brontë
It is a year shy of thirty…almost to the day…that the police officers who brutally beat Rodney King were found not guilty. What a horrible moment for our country…what a terrifying and dark moment to live in Los Angeles. On the night of the riots, Pharoah Sanders kept his engagement at a jazz club off Hollywood and Vine. I already had tickets and decided to venture out into a chaotic night across town to see the gig.
The club was sold out and half full. On the evening of the Los Angeles riots, Sanders’ combo played off the tension in the air, and Sanders…with bloodshot, serious eyes…blew his sax on top of it all. As the night wore down, and he went into maybe his most famous song, The Creator Has A Master Plan, it became a sermon to all of us who needed hope; it seemed written for that moment. And with the ending of the yarn, he revealed his singing bowl and sounded one last note that reverberated throughout the club, everyone present silent, holding breaths as the note decayed. A moment of togetherness in a world torn apart.
Before the guilty verdict yesterday, that helpless, nervous feeling that hung in the air before the Rodney King verdict was pungently present: it seems like since that time, there have been too many times like it that have come and gone with justice ultimately swinging in the wrong direction. But then it happened: the verdict came in guilty. Three score. And the President of the United States of America came out in agreement.
A step forward in a time of many backward ones. But a step forward none the less.
The Legendary Hasaan’s Long Lost ‘Metaphysics’ Pushes Boundaries
My old friend Cary Baker pulled a big reveal yesterday telling me of the discovery of a lost record by Hasaan Ibn Ali. For those keeping score, there was only ONE KNOWN RECORDING of the crazy talented pianist known up until now, where he shared a stage with the legendary Max Roach. Hasaan had a truly original style, and to have another opportunity to bath in it..a recording that was initially shelved…then lost in a fire…finally phoenixed into modern existence…is a pretty big deal. Matt Silver does a great job with Hasaan’s story in above article…
THE 2021 FANGORIA CHAINSAW AWARDS WINNERS
The state of horror movies these days is pretty bleak. Ever since the wave of incredible horror films from Japan in the 90s, there really hasn’t been a great new style that has dominated. So the Fangoria Chainsaw awards are interesting to behold…just to see what SOMEONE thinks are the top-of-the-craft scare films being made today. And while I don’t think the nominees would in general shift one’s view about the general mediocre state of modern horror films, there are some good ones being honored, the top being Color Out Of Space. I have to say….I am now looking forward to seeing The Invisible Man, Impetigore, and Possessor(whose winning soundtrack is killer).
Brontë village bats named Charlotte, Emily and Anne
On Charlotte Brontë’s birthday, here is a great story that includes an interesting honor to the memory of her and her sisters.
Duerr’s makes most expensive marmalade…
My Mom made the most deliscious lamb chops the other night and offered me some mint jelly that was from a traditional English company….super thick, not very sweet. In fact…had a mint-burn type of heat to it. Duerr’s was the name of the company. Has been around since 1881. So we started researching and came up with this story from over 15 years ago, when Duerr’s made a jar of marmalade that retailed for 5000 pounds….
Evening Solace
By: Charlotte Brontë
The human heart has hidden treasures,
In secret kept, in silence sealed;—
The thoughts, the hopes, the dreams, the pleasures,
Whose charms were broken if revealed.
And days may pass in gay confusion,
And nights in rosy riot fly,
While, lost in Fame’s or Wealth’s illusion,
The memory of the Past may die.
But there are hours of lonely musing,
Such as in evening silence come,
When, soft as birds their pinions closing,
The heart’s best feelings gather home.
Then in our souls there seems to languish
A tender grief that is not woe;
And thoughts that once wrung groans of anguish
Now cause but some mild tears to flow.
And feelings, once as strong as passions,
Float softly back—a faded dream;
Our own sharp griefs and wild sensations,
The tale of others’ sufferings seem.
Oh! when the heart is freshly bleeding,
How longs it for that time to be,
When, through the mist of years receding,
Its woes but live in reverie!
And it can dwell on moonlight glimmer,
On evening shade and loneliness;
And, while the sky grows dim and dimmer,
Feel no untold and strange distress—
Only a deeper impulse given
By lonely hour and darkened room,
To solemn thoughts that soar to heaven
Seeking a life and world to come.
