(no subject)

Went with M for a night out without the kidlets to see Alison Kraus and the Union Station last night.  The music was phenomenal, though Ms. Kraus spent a lot of time talking between songs while the other band members were tuning, and not all of it was entertaining.  I kept wanting to shout out "Your band is waiting on you, Ali..."  In spite of that, it was all in all a very consistant and enjoyable show, with one glaring exception, and I do mean glaring. 

They, of course, performed Man Of Constant Sorrow.  I mean, you don't pay more than a hundred dollars for two people, put Dan Tyminsky on stage, and not hear MoCS.  The set was minimalist, white drapes artfully hung with lighting providing the color, and the lighting transitions between songs took us from one to the next, like floating on a gentle current.  Dan picks up the cedar top Martin - the one tuned in DADGAD, which is the tuning for MoCS, and I think, "Okay...could be..."  At that moment, a dozen lekos on electronic mounts swivel and point into the audience, piercingly bright white light like the flash of an explosion, and I spent the first few bars of the song trying to blink my vision back, thinking "Who asked for that fucking light cue?"  They ended the song that way, but at least I anticipated it and shielded my eyes.

As you watched the band, it was like watching a group of Just Folks: folks who'd been working together for years, who were great friends, who loved what they were doing.  The synergy of it was just amazing. 

I had another thought, but I think it's important enough that I'll save it as a separate post.

(no subject)

Went with M for a night out without the kidlets to see Alison Kraus and the Union Station last night.  The music was phenomenal, though Ms. Kraus spent a lot of time talking between songs while the other band members were tuning, and not all of it was entertaining.  I kept wanting to shout out "Your band is waiting on you, Ali..."  In spite of that, it was all in all a very consistant and enjoyable show, with one glaring exception, and I do mean glaring. 

They, of course, performed Man Of Constant Sorrow.  I mean, you don't pay more than a hundred dollars for two people, put Dan Tyminsky on stage, and not hear MoCS.  The set was minimalist, white drapes artfully hung with lighting providing the color, and the lighting transitions between songs took us from one to the next, like floating on a gentle current.  Dan picks up the cedar top Martin - the one tuned in DADGAD, which is the tuning for MoCS, and I think, "Okay...could be..."  At that moment, a dozen lekos on electronic mounts swivel and point into the audience, piercingly bright white light like the flash of an explosion, and I spent the first few bars of the song trying to blink my vision back, thinking "Who asked for that fucking light cue?"  They ended the song that way, but at least I anticipated it and shielded my eyes.

As you watched the band, it was like watching a group of Just Folks: folks who'd been working together for years, who were great friends, who loved what they were doing.  The synergy of it was just amazing. 

I had another thought, but I think it's important enough that I'll save it as a separate post.

Overheard regarding BTK

Gotta love talk radio:

The fact of the matter is, serial killer or no, he's just like me.  He's just like you.  He's just like each of the callers.  He had a job.  He bought groceries.  He had a family, went to church, had Sunday dinner, watched TV, and listened to talk radio.  For all anyone knows, I'm a serial killer with a dozen notches in my lead pipe, and would the girl who rings up my gasoline know that to look at me? 
 
What really gets under folks' skin is the thought, "Jesus...that could be ME."  The denials fly, we hotly proclaim that we could NEVER do that, and should someone have the temerity to ask "Yeah, but haven't you ever said, 'Damn, I could just KILL that guy...'" we explode into a righteous rage and shout, "There's a big difference between saying it and doing it!"
 
Is there?  As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he.  What we don't understand is that it's a reaaaaaaally short walk from soapboxing to hitting, from hitting to hurting, from hurting to harming, and from harming to killing."

Overheard regarding BTK

Gotta love talk radio:

The fact of the matter is, serial killer or no, he's just like me.  He's just like you.  He's just like each of the callers.  He had a job.  He bought groceries.  He had a family, went to church, had Sunday dinner, watched TV, and listened to talk radio.  For all anyone knows, I'm a serial killer with a dozen notches in my lead pipe, and would the girl who rings up my gasoline know that to look at me? 
 
What really gets under folks' skin is the thought, "Jesus...that could be ME."  The denials fly, we hotly proclaim that we could NEVER do that, and should someone have the temerity to ask "Yeah, but haven't you ever said, 'Damn, I could just KILL that guy...'" we explode into a righteous rage and shout, "There's a big difference between saying it and doing it!"
 
Is there?  As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he.  What we don't understand is that it's a reaaaaaaally short walk from soapboxing to hitting, from hitting to hurting, from hurting to harming, and from harming to killing."

Musical musings

This is the continuation of the thought that I alluded to in my Alison Kraus post.

( A touchy subject, maybe... )

 

Musical musings

This is the continuation of the thought that I alluded to in my Alison Kraus post.

( A touchy subject, maybe... )