A ten-tube Grundig and the days before rock and roll

I did the right thing today: kept the top down through the dark and fog on the way in.  Yes, the heater had to be on, but the drive is all the more visceral for the exposure to the elements.  It wasn't especially cold (I like those top-down drive, too, but then the heater is on full and the side windows must be up to trap the heat in for that outdoor-hot-tub like experience), but the light fog swirled in and around my little cockpit, bringing the morning scents with it.  The smell of breakfast cooking in one spot, more leafy decomposition in another, and the running-rich exhaust note of a little MG I followed for a few blocks.  He also had his top down: that guy deserves a convertible!  None of this oh-I-have-a-convertible-but-the-wind-messes-up-my-hair-so-I-never-drop-the-top stuff for the likes of us.  His top-down drive was all the more risky because you don't simply pull the top up and over your shoulder in an MG, it is a pull over, park, and get-out affair.  So my cap is off to my fellow top-down on a dark and foggy morning driver, except that my cap was on.

This morning's sound track was decidedly in its own face, from delicate classical to edgy rock.  It finished up with Van Morrison's In the Days Before Rock 'n' Roll, one of my all-time favorites of his.  An odd song with a mostly spoken cadence, it recounts the days when dialing up good music required time on your knees before the wireless knobs. It makes me think of the old ten-tube Grundig stereo system my dad had shipped back from Germany, and that I grew up with.

That is exactly what the dial looked like when you lifted the center lid on the birch wood cabinet. Each of the dials shifted a red dot on the back-lit screen, with each column of dots connected by little lines.  There was a definite heft and click when you depressed those Bakelite keys. It took time to warm up the tubes, and the the glow coming from that screen was warmer than any digital device will ever be able to match. Much of what it was designed to do was wasted in the airspace of our little corner of the U.S., but it was a total wonder to a young kid who loved music.  It still amazes me when I look at that picture, considering the technology of the day.

Van Morrison's song pays tribute to the likes of Muddy Waters, John Lee Hooker, Jerry Lee Lewis and Little Richard, and the days of Radio Luxembourg:

Justin, gentler than a man

I am down on my knees

At the wireless knobs

I am down on my knees

At those wireless knobs

Telefunken, Telefunken

And I'm searching for

Luxembourg, Luxembourg,

Athlone, Budapest, AFN,

Hilversum, Helvetia

In the days before rock 'n' roll

and...

Fats did not come in

Without those wireless knobs

Fats did not come in

Without those wireless knobs

Elvis did not come in

Without those wireless knobs

Nor Fats, nor Elvis

Nor Sonny, nor Lightning

Nor Muddy, nor John Lee

Good stuff, I say.  Today's full playlist:

Pink Martini: Clementine
Jacques Loussier Trio: Gnossienne No. 5
Turtle Island String Quartet: Nocturne from String Quartet No. 2
Weezer: Keep Fishin'
Van Morrison: In the Days Before Rock 'n' Roll

The Tarzan Trail

Today's drive in was dark, but dry.  Technically, it was foggy on the hilltops, and fog is certainly a form of moisture, but the roads were dry if not entirely clear.  Usually, fog settles into the low spots on the drive, but this morning it encircled the high points.  Also, leaves are really starting to accumulate.  Driving home from work yesterday was the first top-down drive in a few days and I really saw (and smelled!) the brown and orange leaves accumulating in piles along the road.  There is a particular smell to the arrival of fall.  It is a breezy smell of decaying foliage, and it always takes me back to the woods of my youth.

I grew up here in the PNW and in a place where we had many small (often connecting) patches of woodland around us. The walking route to my elementary school (I know the idea is unthinkable now, but back then it was perfectly normal to let small kids walk a mile or more to school) took me out the back end of a dead-end street, through a small copse of woods between neighborhoods, and across an undeveloped field. There was even a log over a pond on the route.  To us kids it was known as "the Tarzan trail." I have no idea who coined that name for it, but one of us kids must have. To us, the woods were fun places to explore, and the early season of decay especially ripe for discovery.  (The other memory that fall's smell brings back is actually a spring time memory of family trips into the woods to hunt for morel mushrooms – what I wouldn't give for a fresh batch of those today!)

One of this morning's tracks would have made a good soundtrack to a Tarzan film, come to think of it. Marco Benevento's Diego Garcia is an almost entirely percussive work with piano and xylophone (guessing) along with a variety of drums and other formal and informal percussion instruments banging away intensely for ten-plus minutes. It lies at the far boundary of what most folks would consider music, and I grew tired of the cacophonous clanging and banging long before the track finished (though I did listen all the way through).  It was also at odds with the other three pieces in this morning's random playlist, which are all mellow and melancholy:

• John Barry/Chris Botti: Remembering Chet
• Kings of Convenience: Homesick
• Marco Benevento: Diego Garcia
• Robert Plant/Alison Krauss: Stick With Me Baby

Spontaneously wet, with musical notes

Tuesday, warm, wet, and (by extension) humid.  Today's weather looks much like yesterday's felt.  On my walks to and from campus it was unpleasantly humid. Too muggy-warm to want much by way of clothing and too wet to go without a coat and cap.  At times it wasn't so much raining as spontaneously wetting, with the water quietly exploding out of the muggy air and forming on anything that slid through it.  According to Cliff Mass' Weather Blog from yesterday, the humidity was "extraordinary" for our part of the world with dew points in the mid to upper 60's.  He goes on to describe the highly unusual atmospheric conditions that lead to the most humid day so far this year.

I stopped for coffee this morning, and the corner kiosk was moving a bit slowly for the fairly small line of cars it was handling, so the playlist stretched out quite a bit longer than usual.  A very mixed and interesting playlist today, as a result.  A couple of musical notes:

Largo was a 1998 project album from The Band built around a theme of Dvorak's New World Symphony. It was a collaboration with the Hooters and featured a diverse artist list: Taj Mahal, Levon Helm, Garth Hudson, Joan Osborne, The Chieftains, Carole King, Cyndi Lauper, David Forman, and Willie Nile. Mostly rock Americana with heavy shades of Appalachian folk, Irish reels, hard blues, and classical. There is no way to really classify this album, but it is so worth checking out if you have not heard it before.  [Note to self: it would be interesting to see what Pandora pulls together by way of a radio channel based on this album!]

Perla Betalla's duet (with Bill Gable) rendition of Leonard Cohen's Dance Me to the End of Love is absolutely perfect.  The opening instrumental strains remind me of the theme music from the Thames of London World at War documentary from the 70's (if you have never seen this 26-hour series on WW II you have missed the most compelling and insightful documentary on war that has ever been made, captured on film at a time when many of the key players from all sides of the war could be interviewed first hand), haunting and sad. With beautiful instrumental work and Perla's softly powerful voice, the tune has a magically compelling hook to it.

Good stuff, I say.

• Robert Walter: Scores of Spores
• Two Siberians: Lake Baikal
• Jean-Yves Thibaudet: Lucky to Be Me
• Largo: Chieftains Largo - Reprise
• Bruce Cockburn: See You Tomorrow
• Train: All American Girl
• Jay Nash: Wayfarer
• Perla Batalla: Dance Me to the End of Love (feat. Bill Gable)

The rain in my head

Monday: rain.  Forecast says sun and mid-seventies today, with rain materializing late tonight.  Maybe it's a bit early for today's forecast?  I feel a bit slow-motion this morning myself, just a little bit forced-to-get-up-and-moving, if that makes any sense. Usually, once I'm up, I'm go.  Today, I'm up but sort-of-go. I am reminded of Shel Silverstein's poem, Rain:

I opened my eyes

And looked up at the rain,

And it dripped in my head

And flowed into my brain,

And all that I hear as I lie in my bed

Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head.

I step very softly,

I walk very slow,

I can't do a handstand--

I might overflow,

So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said--

I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.

Well, I've never been able to do a handstand, regardless of the weather, so I can't put that down to this morning's rain. 

Sunday was a football and baking day for me.  I made two beautiful loaves of whole-grain bread and pizza dough for dinner.  Then made tuna melt pizzas with the dough. Those were an invention from many years ago when our kids were young.  We all liked tuna melts and we all liked pizza, so I decided, why not?  The family turned up their nose at the thought and approached the table with dismal resignation only to find they loved them.  A hit was born.  I agree with food author Mark Bittman that pizzas should have a limited number of flavors and toppings and that a good rule of thumb is whether or not the toppings would be good together on a plate.  In this case, the dough is topped by nothing but olive oil, sautéed red onion, and cheddar cheese (light on all three). A magic combination.

Speaking of combinations, the iPod was mashing together an odd assortment of tunes this morning. Not what I would call a great (as in, plays very well together) playlist, but certainly interesting:

• Sara Bareilles: Love Song
• Christine Lavin: All I have to do is dream/A summer medley
• Doves: Almost Forgot Myself
• Jónsi: Around Us
• Bruce Cockburn: The Mines of Mozambique

Slishity-slosh ––shakes head–– enough of all this; on with the day.

Chasing the moon and driving into the sun

What a beautiful day, and perfectly timed for the weekday-workday set.  The usual joke in the PNW is that it rains on the weekends and the sun comes out mid-week, and it does often seem to work out that way.  Today, forecast high of 72º, 76º, or 77º (depending on which weather app/site you check).  A perfect top-down morning to drive into work (alas, my work week is necessarily extending into at least part of today).  Stopped for an iced coffee (compensation for working through what may be the only sunny bit of the weekend; rain is forecast by late today).  Also got to meet one of our newer Security staff members who usually works weekends (came to see who was turning off the building alarm on a Saturday) - nice guy and finally getting to meet him was a nice benefit of coming in.

A sunny yet not-hot morning like today is my second favorite type of top-down driving conditions.  Last night I got a bit of my true favorite top-down conditions: late night, clear skies, and a bright moon to follow home.  M and I had dinner with friends we hadn't gotten together with for many years, along with their (now grown) children and grandson.  Two chefs in the house meant a mountain of truly wonderful food (not an on-diet meal!) and an evening of crazy laughter (really, I think it was non-stop) ensued as we picked up where we left off years ago and simultaneously caught up.  It was late when M & I headed for home, and the night was clear and comfortable, so the top dropped and we followed a still-full post-harvest moon home.  A beautiful cap to a fun evening.

The iPod worked its magic and produced another one of those satisfyingly unusual blends of musical flavors that make shuffling the music library so interesting. It started with old Italian liturgical lyrics set to old Italian pub music (just like Luther) and then shifted from alternative and jazz.  Miles Davis went perfectly with the feel of the morning, though all five tunes were appreciated:

• Acantus: Cum Autem Venissem
• The Guggenheim Grotto: A Lifetime in Heat
• Miles Davis: All Blues
• Travis: Writing to Reach You
• Charlie Haden & Pat Metheny: He's Gone Away

Only pulled into music

The sky was dark and cloudy, the road was wet, and the top was up.  Yet, by the time I reached campus the sunrise was deep blue and gold, clouds appeared to be parting, and a gambling man would see a sunny day as a wagerable possibility.  NOAH says mixed sun and clouds, high of 70º (!!) and 20% chance of rain.  So, the only real gamble is which comes at which hour.  I do know this was the second morning that the heat pump came on to push a little bit of heat into the house in the early morning, which considering how low we have the temperature set, is surprising.

I was pulled into the music this morning, so my thoughts stayed there.  The first tune is from Mark Isham's very electric tribute to Miles Davis, and every tune is worth getting lost in.  Same goes for the Seamus Egan tune that followed it up, a tuneful Irish ballad with lots of deep riffing on a recorder over some very good fiddle work.  More good stuff.

• Mark Isham: All Blues
• Seamus Egan: Mick O'Connor's
• John Mayer: In Your Atmosphere (Live)
• Don Byron: Tobacco Auctioneer

Harvest moon

Did you see the moon this morning? It is the real Harvest Moon, which for this year means 5 1/2 hours after the autumnal equinox, or the early morning hours of September 23rd. And sure enough, right on queue, a large, bright, and very round moon hung over my trip in this early morning. A very pretty sight on an otherwise wet morning. It would have been fun to have been able to do the drive top down, for an even better view of the moon.

I had a car come full across the center line straight at me this morning, though I was able to slide away from it in time, and they corrected path after they passed me. Maybe they were watching the harvest moon in their rear view mirror. Most likely, they were texting.

Folks sometimes shake their heads at small cars like mine, saying how unsafe they would feel in something so small. However, small nimble cars have a big advantage when it comes to accident avoidance. Had I been driving the typical massive American-sized automotive monstrosity there wouldn't have been enough room for me to avoid getting hit, I would have been in an accident this morning.

The iPod was being witty this morning with at least a couple of its selections. I'm sure you can spot those tracks, too.

Bob Dylan: Not Dark Yet
Pinback: Bouquet
Supertramp: It's Raining Again
Oscar Peterson Trio: Satin Doll


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