Skip to main content

But I Try and I Try


This year's Grammy awards had something for any musical taste. Too bad we didn't get to see some of the more "esoteric" categories, or even hear the results. But with CBS at the helm, it was more an entertainment extravaganza than an awards show. I think the show was on for an hour before the second award of the night was presented.
As expected, the dress code is wide open and many of the winners actually performed right before their names were called. For me it was all about the new and the old. I've been trying to help some folks my age explain to a genuinely curious young man, why Bob Dylan is so revered. You'll never get a clue from his voice today or even most of his performances. History lessons are required to deal with this subject. Fortunately Martin Scorsese's film No Direction Home will do the job well. One Facebook thread I've been following has whittled itself down to people from all over the country sharing their favorite Dylan lyrics. Seems to be making an impact on this young man. He had only to ask.
Of course a 67 year-old Mick Jagger strutting out a tribute to the late Solomon Burke was a thing of beauty. People in that crowd had a sense that seeing Mick's first Grammy performance, ever, was something to cherish. He's still soulful, full of energy, and knows how to work the crowd year after year. Satisfaction.
Watching musicians age is poignant. We grow up and we grow wise with the music of our time. As our favorites age and pass on we lose a little something of ourselves. But the music remains. It always remains. We may have to change the way we access our music, but it will always be there. So many people I know are figuring out how to "do music" these days. As soon as they got comfortable with CDs, I Pods came along. Some of us don't want the computer to be our key hole to everything we do. It might be inevitable, eventually, but right now we still have choices.


Probably the most satisfying thing from Grammy night came near the end with the announcement of "Best New Artist." No mass selling pop star this time. A beautiful Jazz bassist/vocalist from Portland took the big prize. Surprise, Surprise Surprise. Esperanza Spalding is on the brink of a huge career. She gave the Academy the opportunity to award talent and originality and they did just that. The little girl that saw Yo Yo Ma on Mr. Rogers Neighborhood and decided she wanted to play a "violin" (she called the cello a violin at age 5) will inspire millions. Don't know if a shocker this big will ever happen again. What is clear is that right now more than a few 18 year olds are reinventing themselves. They are planning colorful costumes and the logistics of arriving in giant eggs or hanging from and ultimately dropping from the sky. It can't be helped. But for now, there is quite a bit of satisfaction blowin' in the wind.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Quality of Optimism

 I've returned to The Book of Qualities, by J Ruth Gentler once again to meet the needs of one of the senior students in my little Writing From Memory class I'm currently teaching in my local community center.  This little volume personifies various concepts and personality traits.  The particular student "in need" seems to be fixated on writing about her past relationships.  Apparently, there were many.   I'm OK with that.  I only hope that she picks a few qualities that are as revealing about herself as those that might describe her Ex's.  There is much to be learned by writing about a quality.  The aforementioned book seems to have survived well over the years.  I first encountered it and its author way back in the late 1970s.  I took a journal writing workshop from her.  Then, a few years later, her book came out and I introduced these writing exercises to my students.  11th grade Juniors seemed to do the best with it. ...

Mr. Greene v. Mr. Brown

I want to tell you about something. Something I've carried inside myself for a number of years now. Perhaps if I were a different kind of person I wouldn't need to talk about it. I'm not. My need to tell it is stronger than your need to hear it. Because, however, there are a number of teachers and former students of mine who may read these meanderings from time to time, I need to tell this story all the more. About 7 or 8 years ago I was asked if I would allow a university PhD. candidate to observe an English class. At first I decided against it because I was scheduled to have a student teacher placed with me the second half of the semester in question. After some urging, however, at the request of a respected colleague, I agreed. Soon I was committing to extra meetings, signing documents and explaining to the class in question who the young woman who thoughtfully pounded away on a laptop in the rear of the classroom three times a week was. I knew that the topic of ...

Writing on the Wall

       The first time I saw graffiti that was memorable was in a middle school bathroom.  As 6th graders I often walked home with friends by the middle school we'd soon be attending.  A stop by the boys bathroom near the boys gym placed me face to face with a piece of graffiti that immediately madame and my friends laugh uncontrollably.  On the wall above the urinals, was penned a short poem that read"                     This is a Teepee to take a pee pee,                         Not a wigwam to beat your tom tom      14 year-old humor at it's best.  The laughter my friends and I experienced was cathartic.  Being bottom of the barrel Freshmen could have dire consequences in the boys bathroom.  Those unpleasantries would come later, but for the moment, we were ecstatic and proceeded to read all the g...