THE SIGNAL from David Katznelson
“In nature, nothing is perfect. Trees can be contorted, bent in weird ways and they're still beautiful.”― Alice Walker
Record collecting, the internet and a good late night make an interesting combo…dangerous to be sure.
It all started out with a record I received yesterday in the mail from Shenzhen, China. My friend (and fellow problematic collector) Josh Rosenthal hipped me to a bookstore there called Old Heaven Books that has started a boutique label releasing an eclectic array of jazz/world/other music—all limited edition—all with a beautiful woodcut print portrait of the featured musician on the cover. They had just listed their next offering: a recording of Indian sitar great Nikhil Banerjee done in 1967, live, on the air, on KPFA in Berkeley. This was a known, legendary performance. A must have.
I was stunned by the sweet heirloom that slipped out of the cardboard package upon arrival. The kids were running around the house while I tried to give it a first listen: it sounded nice, but ragas need meditative environments. I had to wait. The family went to sleep…all but Emma (our dog) who curled up atop my feet. The needle fell down on the record, the incense rose, and a late night raga filled the room. Tu Fei, the person behind the production, oversaw an amazing mastering effort: the music soared from the speakers as if they were recorded just yesterday, with a warmth that matched the coloring of Benerjee’s playing.
The album’s liner notes hipped me to Benerjee’s teacher, Allauddin Khan, teacher to Ravi Shankar…teacher and father to Ali Akbar Khan (the documentary on him is a must-see). I opened the computer and surfed to discogs to see what records Allauddin had released…and who his contemporaries were. And this is where the trouble started. Studying up on Allauddin Khan’s releases led me to compilation records featuring him and other masters…and searching deeper into the recordings of the other masters got me interested in hearing these recordings and there is no better way to do that then by buying a select handful and create more opportunities for late night listening sessions around the stereo. Right?
Within an hour I had bought a sixties record from a store in France featuring Ustad Vilayat Khan, another (I just learned) legendary sitar player. More research led me farther back in Indian raga history and I stumbled upon an on-line store of ragas on 78 shellac from then 30s and 40s. After proceeding at midnight to purchase a raga from 1940 by Prof. Enayet Khan, I connected with the store owner and started adding to my cart again. Suresh Chandvankar, the owner, has made a name for himself for his store in Mumbai selling these insanely rare Indian Classical music 78s and he wanted to curate another batch to send me. It sounded too good to be true.
Are you understanding the danger…the danger all around me?
I woke up this morning knowing I have a bunch of vintage ragas coming my way from all parts of the globe. Thank you discogs, the ever open international record store on the internet. Maybe just maybe this is not a one night thing but a whole new avenue for my collection. Just what I need, right? I hope so. I hope not.
Good Morning Heartache: The Life and Blues of Billie Holiday
Vanity Fair showcases a great bit of journalism by Hadley Hall Meares reexamining Holiday’s 1955 autobiography Lady Sings The Blues and in turn, her tragic, sad life. Damn was she talented, though. There is no one who sounds like her.
Folsom Prison photography exhibition to open at Johnny Cash boyhood home
‘When I was just a baby, my mama told me
"Son, always be a good boy, don't ever play with guns"
But I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die
When I hear that whistle blowin', I hang my head and cry’
Exploring Thailand’s old abandoned cinemas
If Victor Hugo is right…and he is…that architectural objects are like books with the stories they tell…these buildings are insane epics.
'We Run The Tides' Pulls You Into The Rough Seas Of Female Adolescence
My friend Vendela Vida has released a new novel this month called “We Run With the Tides.” I am jazzed to read it, especially since it is based in Sea Cliff, where I grew up, in the time I grew up in. I met Vendela as an adult, which blows my mind the more I realize that we grew up three blocks apart, attended complimentary elementary/jr high schools, and are super close in age. She has four events going on this week and next to celebrate the book release….virtual all.
A Coloured Print By Shokei
by Amy Lowell
It winds along the face of a cliff
This path which I long to explore,
And over it dashes a waterfall,
And the air is full of the roar
And the thunderous voice of waters which sweep
In a silver torrent over some steep.
It clears the path with a mighty bound
And tumbles below and away,
And the trees and the bushes which grow in the rocks
Are wet with its jewelled spray;
The air is misty and heavy with sound,
And small, wet wildflowers star the ground.
Oh! The dampness is very good to smell,
And the path is soft to tread,
And beyond the fall it winds up and on,
While little streamlets thread
Their own meandering way down the hill
Each singing its own little song, until
I forget that 't is only a pictured path,
And I hear the water and wind,
And look through the mist, and strain my eyes
To see what there is behind;
For it must lead to a happy land,
This little path by a waterfall spanned.
Just don't go barbershop raga...