Archive for July, 2009
An Appalachian waltz, a Bach partita, a humorous Polka and a haunting Cambodian melody all met last night on the stage of the Ethical Culture Society. It’s all part of Mark O’Connor’s fiddle camp, making its long-awaited debut in NYC.
The acclaimed multi-grammy award winning violinist and composer has brought some of the top string players in the world to come and teach here — and to play. It’s a long-held dream of the softspoken O’Connor, who told the audience last night that it took him five years and much planning to bring the camp — and the artists here. He has other camps as well — one near Nashville and the other in San Diego — but it was NYC that was the Big Dream for him.
Each night O’Connor plays — and then so do his students. Most of them are just kids — but they play like unpretentious fiddle geniuses — mixing Led Zeppelin and old-timey bluegrass with some Bach and jazz mixed in.
Then O’Connor brings out the teachers.
Last night there was Classical Violinist Lara St. John who played a soul-gutting Bach Partita. The cellist Maya Beiser played a piece by a Cambodian composer entitled ‘Four Strings’ dedicated to those lost in that country’s genocide. And then there was Manjunath. He turned his violin upside down like a Cello before his astonishing performance of Ragas mixed in with Led Zeppelin. And just before he did so — he told us — “Music is a Wonderful Thing.’
There are more performances. On Thursday, July 30 — Sara Caswell, Rachel Calin, Daniel Carwile and Yale Strom will perform. On Friday, DBR — a hiphop violinist; Philippe Quint and Kenji Bunch will all be there, starting at 7 p.m — and they are free.
Growing up in the sixties and seventies, the Six-o-Clock News on CBS with Walter Cronkite formed the backdrop to almost every evening meal. The sound of his serious, but reassuring voice and the drone of the helicopters coming from places like Saigon and Hanoi as Cronkite gave us body counts and explained to us all the quagmire that was Vietnam, formed the soundtrack to our lives as we went about the wonderful, terrible business of trying to grow up.
Cronkite’s dignified demeanor seemed to embody all that was good and decent.
His visible grief when President Kennedy was shot was moving, not only because he was expressing publically out own collective shock – but also partly because of its restraint — in the effort he took to suppress it.
His range was unprecedented.
He covered World War II and the Nuremberg trials, moved onto Vietnam and Watergate and watched a man Walk on the Moon. “Oh, boy,” he said when the apollo spacecraft touched down on that heretofore mythical place in the sky. ‘Oh boy.”
His Voice was that of the Decent Everyman. When Walter Cronkite declared during one of his broadcasts that Vietnam War was at a stalement — that it was unwinnable and the United States should negotiate a peace treaty, President Lyndon Johnson famously declared: ”If I’ve lost Cronkite. I’ve lost middle America.”
That’s the Way it Was. That’s the Way It Is.
The Beatle walked out onto the set that was once the stage for the Ed Sullivan show last week, 45 years after it had all begun. Not the band — of course. That had begun many years before that, in Liverpool where he and some mates had decided: Hey, Let’s Put on a Show!
Sir Paul McCarney had been 22 years old then and he thought He Knew it All. He told David Letterman he felt so much older at 22 than he does now. S o when the stage manager asked him that night in 1964 right before he was to go out and sing ’Yesterday,’ whether he was scared, he said ’No.” “You should be,” the stage manager told him. “There’s 73 million people watching.” McCartney admitted to Letterman: “I was scared.”
His face is more lined now — a bit more careworn. He’s been through his share of tragedy and triumphs. He’s had a hit record or two. He’s now known as a Sir. But underneath, the carefree kid with the killer smile and the Mod haircut is still there.
That night in 1964 , on black and white televisions, all over the country, in Living Rooms and Dens, the people watched the Beatles on the Sunday night ritual known as The Ed Sullivan Show. Fathers were incredulous. Mothers smiled. Girls screamed. The Dog Barked.
The Mop Tops Had Come to Town. And everything Changed.
In 1789, the French were Mad as Hell and they weren’t going to take it anymore. Tired of the Absolute and Arbitary power wielded by Louis the 16th’s Ancien Regime, the people decided it was time to storm the Barricades.
To celebrate the day the walls of the Bastille came tumbling down and the words: Liberte! Egalite! and Fraternite! inserted themselves into the lexicon, the French traditionally celebrate Bastille Day on July 14th. In Paris — the Fete de La Bastille is filled with Fireworks! Feasts! and Dancing in the Streets!
Of course, New York will be doing its part. On Sunday, July 12, between noon until 6 p.m., that stretch of land known as 60th Street, between Fifth Avenue and Lexington, will become Parisian — at least for the day. Expect French food, French Wine and that very specific Joie de Vivre found only around Paris.
Brooklyn is also getting into the Gallic Spirit. Their celebration of all things French will take place on Smith Street on Sunday as well, from 12-10.
So, Mes Amis…check it out. At least then, you can say, like the great French singer Edith Piaf, “Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien!”
Don’t believe the critics who panned it. ‘Whatever Works,’ works. Sure it’s a trip down familiar territory. But that’ s not such a terrible thing. There’s the usual cast of characters: the neurotic, misanthropic schlemiel, the kooky women, the young beautiful girl and all their eccentric friends, all accompanied by a delicious soundtrack that includes Mozart and the Marx Brothers.
And at the film’s heart, despite the misanthropy and the whining of its main character played by Larry David, is a generous vision. It says, Embrace in life, “Whatever Works.” Go for the Gusto, as Long as We Can. There are worse ways to spend a hot summer day.
And while we’re on the subject of movies, go see ‘The Beaches of Agnes,’ now playing at the Film Forum. It’s all about her Life — and her Life in Film. The French director was married to Jacques Demy, who directed ‘The Umbrellas of Cherbourg.”
I promise. You won’t regret it.
Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood
Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather
The multitudinous seas incarnadine
Making the green one red.
Macbeth to Lady Macbeth, 2.2 59-62, from the Arden edition.
The courtroom in downtown Manhattan overflowed on Monday with tears of rage and tears of relief. When U.S District Judge Denny Chin threw the book at Bernie Madoff, described his $65 Billion Ponzi scheme as “extraordinarily evil,” and sentenced him to 150 years in jail, there was an outburst of spontaneous applause.
The Swindler, Madoff, had stood in front of the judge. He told him of his remorse. He spoke of his own disbelief at what he had done. “I have left a legacy of shame,” he told the judge . “I cannot make any excuse for my behavior,” he said. He turned and looked at some of his victims. But the judge was unmoved. ”The breach of trust was staggering,” he said. “The fraud was massive.”
Bernie Madoff, the swindler, the destroyer of fortunes and murderer of dreams, doesn’t have the face of a monster. He has a rather kind face, full of warmth. Hannah Arendt once used the phrase ‘the banality of evil’ when she was writing about the trial of mass murderer Adolf Eichmann. Somehow, it seems apropos. Monsters very rarely look like monsters. Sometimes they look like Bernie.
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