Bulletins From BA #02

Bulletins From BA #02

08 August 2012

¡Hola! there… Rodger French here.

Photo Update Alert: www.picasaweb.google.com/rodger.french

"BA-Cementerio de la Recoleta"

Buenos Aires is by far the biggest city we have ever lived in. Of course, the second biggest is Atlanta, so that’s not much of a comparison; but this place is big. Really big. Like Nueva York - only bigger - big. Happily, la Ciudad Autónoma de Buenos Aires (official name) is also topographically flat. Really flat. Like… well, you get the idea. It is a ciudad for walking. So, A.J. and I have decided to spend a good chunk of our weekends hoofing it around town; and, since we’re new here, we figured we might as well start with some tourist hotspots.

Last Saturday, we strolled to Basilica Nuestra Señora del Pilar, a Jesuit church built in 1732. The church is adjacent to Cementerio de la Recoleta, a muy famoso necropolis that dates from 1822 and is the final resting place of many notable personas. We arrived early (i.e., before Noon) ahead of the rush of visitors, which included many Argentinians. What a fascinating experience.

When we revisit this place, I think we will engage the services of one of the many “tour guides” who hover at the entrance. But for our first go, we elected to wander about in what is, quite literally, a city of the dead. And while many of the tombs are impressive indeed, housing the remains of presidents, generals, and the well connected, we found ourselves drawn to the neglected, melancholy resting places of those who have been forgotten.

Not forgotten, by any measure, is the most famous resident of Cementerio de la Recoleta, one Eva Duarte de Perón, aka “Evita.” This past 26 July marked the anniversary of her death at the age of 33 and Señora Perón is still much loved by many Argentinians and reviled in equal measure by others. Sixty years on, she, her husband Juan Domingo Perón, and Peronismo remain the subjects of passionate debate. The woman led a short, but appropriately theatrical and cinematic life.

Interestingly, the Duarte family vault where she is entombed is a modest affair. By the time we made our way to it, however, the crowds were out in force, so lingering became a less attractive option. I can tell you that the edifice is of black stone, and decorated with a multitude of flowers, mostly red.

In addition to the cemetery, our Saturday perambulations took us to some other interesting places. Por favor, permítanme a brief, but short, summary:

Buenos Aires Design – A commercial mall “dedicated entirely to design, construction, equipment and decoration.” Home furnishings; some very appealing in design, all expensive.

El Barrio de Recoleta – A wonderful neighborhood, full of tiendas (shoppes) and excelente fruit and vegetable markets. We also happened upon a very, very high-end leather store where I tried on a chaqueta (jacket) made from the skin of carpincho (capybara), a large aquatic rodent. Yeah, I know… laugh if you will, but it was the finest garment I have ever put on my body. Simply exquisite, but a tad pricey at 4700 pesos ($1000 and change). I had to take a pass.

Palais de Glace – This fabulous domed building, originally built in 1910 as a Belle Époque ice skating and social club and later converted to an elegant ballroom for tango, currently houses arts exhibitions. We took in “Muestra Anual de Fotoperiodismo Argentino” (Annual Show of Argentine Photojournalism). Lots of good work, including a photo essay of an old man caring for his dying wife that moved me to tears. (www.palaisdeglace.gob.ar)

Life is so short and there is so much to see.

¡Adelante!

Rodger

Bulletins From BA #01

Bulletins from BA (Buenos Aires) #01

28 July 2012

¡Hola! there... Rodger French here.

Getting settled in the “Paris of South America” has proven reassuringly easy. We scored a nice 9^th floor apartment in the posh barrio (neighborhood) of Palermo, a leisurely stroll from the U.S. Embassy. Our balcony overlooks Avenida del Libertador, which, at 10 lanes wide, is still not the largest street in town. (Being a pedestrian here requires keen spatial awareness and choreographic fearlessness.) We’ve scoped out nearby markets, established phone and intertoobz communications, and now await delivery of our worldly possessions by air and sea.

Embassy folk, officers and local staff alike, have been thoroughly supportive and seem somewhat not unimpressed by the fact that A.J. has an accordion-playing spouse. The accordion is, of course, my secret weapon and I intend to unleash its full mojo… just as soon as I resurrect my chops, since moving betwixt hemispheres has not been conducive to practicing, or regularity of any kind. But, all things in due course, as we make Buenos Aires our home for the next three years.

Would that I could regale you with tales of days lounging in the cafés as an International Man of Leisure and nights prowling the milongas as an ersatz gringo tanguero, but such, alas, is not the case. What I can relate so far is that Buenos Aires (BA) es muy grande (very big), muy ruidoso (very noisy), and teems with los coches (cars), los niños pequeños (small children), y los perros (dogs).

[Sidebar: Dogs are ubiquitous here and paseaperros (professional dog walkers), some with as many as 20 pooches on leash, are a quotidian feature of urban life. It is highly diverting to traipse through Plaza Seeber near the embassy, where large, well-ordered packs of wildly assorted canines congregate daily to sniff, woof, and generally enjoy la vida perro.]

Otras observaciones: BA has a bazillion restaurants, and beef hot off the parrilla (grill) is as excelente as advertised. Also, Argentina is awash in Italian ancestry, so delicious pasta and pizza abound. (Regrettably, Argentinians make little use of spices, notwithstanding salsa chimichurri, which is muy bueno.) Mealtimes take some getting use to. An early dinner might begin at 20h00, más o menos (more or less), although 22h00 (that’s right, 10 PM) is more typical. The innumerable milogas, where devotees of tango congregate, don’t get revved up until well after Midnight. Apparently, no porteño (resident of BA) ever sleeps more than three hours at a stretch.

I think I’m going to like it here.

Anne is also finding her groove and the months spent at FSI studying español are paying off. Her accent has been widely praised and she has been stellar in communicating with Señora Esme, our building’s invaluable encargada (person in charge). Inspired by her (Anne, naturalmente), I have enrolled in Spanish class at the embassy, the better to facilitate interaction with the doormen, shopkeepers, and boliviano street vendors encountered on a daily basis. There is much work to do, but by the time we depart post in 2015, my Spanglish should be off the hook. Like, totalmente.

I am also arranging appointments to “take a coffee” with an eclectic assortment of expats, musicians, and other like-minded characters, both for social reasons and the better to connect with people possibly interested in musical collaborations. And, for what it’s worth, my grande scheme includes finding a teacher with whom to study accordion and a tailor to fabricate a custom, tanguero-esque black suit. When opportunity beckons, I intend to be ready.

Finalmente, sí - thank you for asking - we do have guest accommodations: Room for two in actual beds and a third, if one doesn’t mind an actual sofá. (I’ve field tested it; es más aceptable.) We’re not in host mode just yet, but I’ll keep you posted.

Onward. (¡Adelante!)

Rodger

Dispatches from DC #16

11 July 2012

Hello there... Rodger French here.

On the off chance that any of you are wondering what has become of your erstwhile correspondent, please be advised that I am alive and relatively well, notwithstanding a strained gluteus medius and an inappropriately timed head cold. A.J. and I emptied out and exited our excellent digs in Arlington, VA almost two weeks ago and have taken to the open road in a rental car; the “Toaster” (my favourite vehicle of all time) having been sold and destined to an interesting future in Guatemala. Long story.

The highlight of our journey so far was a thrilling nighttime drive through the mountains of West Virginia during the infamous “derecho” of June 29 that took out electrical power for four million people. This qualified as high adventure indeed, in as much as it entailed dodging trees blowing across Interstate 64W.

The rest of the drive from VA to AL via WV, KY, and TN was pretty routine, although we too were subject to triple-digit temperatures and the warmest June in, like, recorded history. But we’ve had some very nice visits with family and are taking care of sundry matters before returning to DC, there to depart for Buenos Aires, Argentina on July 16, a prospect that still seems somehow spectacularly surreal.

We are scheduled to touch down at Ministro Pistarini International Airport on the morning of July 17, there to be wisked away to our deluxe intown apartment, where we will be greeted by a tango orquesta típica and feted with malbec wine and an enormous asado (roughly, BBQ). Or perhaps not… In any event, I will endeavor to establish a high-speed intertoobz connection in our domicile ASAP, the better to start inflicting your inbox with the next edition of these possibly diverting travelogues, to wit:  “Bulletins From BA.”

Speaking of which, we have a new mailing address, complete with a U.S. Zip Code. If any of you decide you simply must send us something – anything - let me know and I will pass it on to you. Meanwhile, be well, stay cool, and look to the southern hemisphere for word.

Onward. (Adelante.)

Rodger

Dispatches from DC #14

15 December 2011

Hello there... Rodger French here.

What with the Holidaze now in full swing, I thought it felicitous to extend best wishes and append this update; kind of like those Christmas letters one gets from friends, only without the cute photoz of the kidz. Or paw printz of the dogz. Or coherent paragraph transitionz.

Thanksgiving was very relaxed, as we avoided the national transportation nightmare and instead had a quiet dinner at a nice local restaurant with friends. We also avoided the national consumer nightmare known as "Black Friday" and instead had a quiet dinner at another nice local restaurant with other friends. Good food, good company, and zero drama. This is our current scheme for Christmas, only with movies thrown into the mix.

You Russian music fanz will be gratified to know the Washington Balalaika Society Orchestra's fall concerts went swimmingly, with the accordion duet being particularly well received. And those of you in the DC area can catch The Rodger French Trio as we periodically tour the finer coffee houses and cantinas of Alexandria, VA. (And yes, we're on Facebook. Thanks for asking.)

[Holiday Special: Looking for a thoughtful, high-class, yet inexpensive gift for Christmas/Chanukah/Kwanzaa/Solstice/Boxing Day... whatever? You are in luck: "Main Squeeze Deux - Lenny DeLuxe presents Another Album of Select Accordion Solos" is now (still) available at www.cdbaby.com.]

Big news in the 'hood: The city of Arlington is installing a robot (traffic signal) at the corner of N. Pollard St. and Wilson Blvd., a very nasty intersection spectacularly disadvantageous to pedestrians. At last we'll be able to access the excellent burger joint across the street without threat of vehicular annihilation. (This is no joke; a pedestrian was recently hit at this very intersection and another was killed just two blocks away.)

In a hopeful harbinger of general economic recovery, new bidness tenants have moved into the Hawthorn Building: Zapatat Tattoo Removal. I've been predicting for years - really, I have - that tattoo removal was going to be big. The young and supple of skin can get away with these things, but the older you get... well, (sadly, tragically), gravity always wins. To each her/his own, of course, but I've never been a fan of permanent "skin illustrations;" several years in the U.S. Navy, decades before the current tattoo-mania, no doubt colouring my perspective.

In other news, I'm making preparations for a trip to the ATL for the Groundhog Day Jugglers Festival (Feb. 3-5). And, in case you're wondering (which you are likely not), there are no plans afoot for Yet Another DeLuxe Vaudeville Orchestra Annual Reunion Concert. I will also be traveling to Madison County, NC to check in on my modest mountain habitat and try to bring some semblance of organization to way-too-much stuff. This is increasingly imperative because...

(...pause for dramatic effect and actual paragraph transition...)

Anne is being posted as Information Resource Officer (IRO) to Buenos Aires, Argentina for three years. What's more, instead of leaving the States in October 2012 as originally scheduled, it looks like we're outta here in July. Between now and then, she will spend several months immersed in Spanish language classes at the Foreign Service Institute (FSI), where I plan to study as well.

Naturally, I'll keep you posted as the situation develops. And, for what it's worth, the next round of international postings is tentatively titled "Bulletins from BA."

Felices Fiestas. Adelante.

Rodger

Dispatches from DC #13

31 October 2011

Hello there... Rodger French here.

I've lately had the privilege of being asked to play at memorial services for two rather extraordinary women, one of whom I knew pretty well, one of whom I never met. So, in remembrance of the recently departed, please permit me to offer a few thoughts.

Josephine Catron Carson: October 9, 1946 - September 19, 2011

Jo Carson was the finest writer I've ever known. More erudite observers than myself have written about her contributions to the world of letters and you would not regret doing a search and having a look-see. Her work is simply wonderful. And Jo was also a really interesting character. The stories told at her memorial reflected a life lived well, with a keen intellect and great good humour.

I had numerous interactions with Jo over the course of 30+ years and she was never shy about offering encouragement and constructive criticism, sometimes whether you asked for it or not. I sincerely appreciate that she made me a better bandleader. (Her critique of the early days of The DeLuxe Vaudeville Orchestra? "Too many damn tangos." She was correct, of course.) She also told me that she liked my writing (specifically "Greetings From Ghana" and "Postings From Pretoria"). I can only begin to express how much that means to me.

Jo was felled by colon cancer that had gone untreated for too long. But even while dealing with that pain and terror, she managed to brilliantly orchestrate her passing. Her last days were spent surrounded my friends and well-wishers, among them some of the most creative artists in the country. Her memorial service was moving, inspirational, and a really good show.

And the accordionist played a tango in her honour.

[Sidebar - The service also featured perhaps the best line ever spoken in a church. Citing Jo's fatal illness, one of the speakers opined that Jo's passing should be used by members of the congregation as an incentive to "stick your head up your ass and take a good look around." Righteous.]

Emily Clevenger Haseltine: May 31, 1912 - August 15, 2011

In addition to playing accordion with the Washington Balalaika Society Orchestra, I occasionally sub with a smaller group, Ruuskie Musikanti. It was in this context that I learned about Emily, who had taken up the balalaika at the age of 84 and performed with the WBSO for several years.

Over the course of 99 (!) years, she also raised four children (followed by eight grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren), spent fifty-four years in the church choir, and worked enthusiastically on civil rights and immigration issues as a volunteer coordinator. She was, by all accounts, a great lover of life, a bit of a scamp, and a wonderful and entertaining person. I left the service wishing I had had the opportunity to make her acquaintance.

Reflecting on this posting also reminds me of words spoken at a memorial in Atlanta some years ago for a musician friend who passed on unexpectedly and too soon. The gist was that it is shortsighted to put off visiting people you love and respect; the end can come anytime and you may spend the rest of your days regretting your lack of initiative. And then the speaker proffered this simple advice: "Spend the money. Go."

Amen.

Onward.

Rodger

Dispatches from DC #12

07 September 2011

Hello there... Rodger French here.

Extended Posting Alert - Italian Vacation Edition

Photo Update Alert: www.picasaweb.google.com/rodger.french

"Italia 2011" and "Italia 2011 2"

As some of you may be aware, Anne and I recently returned from a two-week vacation in Italy, specifically the real estate around Lago Maggiore, including the towns of Intra, Pallanza, and Verbania as well as the villages of Cavandone and Vignone. Check out the basic geography, if you like (www.lagomaggioreonline.it/cartine_lago_maggiore.htm). In the summer, the area is a mecca for tourists, mostly Italian (Milanesi), English, German, and Swiss. It is exactly what you'd expect: unreasonably beautiful scenery replete with indigenous shoppes, restaurants, cafés, and geletarias. In a word, classic.

Those two weeks, fraught with activity, passed by so quickly that the experience has acquired a dreamlike patina, making it somewhat difficult to write about. (Like, just what the world needs: another fulsome Italian travelogue, am I right?) So I've elected to organize my scribbling into three categories, offer some possibly apropos facts/impressions, and hopefully not bore the hell out of anyone. Andiamo.

I. Food & Friends - Northern Italian cuisine is basic, simple food prepared from really fresh ingredients. We dined primarily at the home of our dear friends and hosts Gino, Lisa, and Edoardo (one of the "boychiks" chronicled in DfDC #11) in Vignone, with several outings to Cavandone to the home of and restaurant run by Claudio and Patrizia. (Their son Claudio, an enthusiastic neophyte juggler, being the other "boychik.")

We also ate at the home of Renato, Gabriella, and Arianna, had pizza with "Mingus" and Letezia, lunched with Gigi and his friends, supped with Gino's sister Anna and her friends, chowed down at the La Palma hotel in Stressa, took in a "pig festival," eccetera, eccetera. The expected food coma failed to materialize, but summer fare is lighter after all. We had wine with everything (the only time I drink wine in measurable quantities is when I'm in Italy), and Mirto, an exotic liquore from Sardinia, a bottle of which came home with me. And espresso, naturalmente.

[Bad News: There is now a McDonald's in Intra. Merda. That's the only fast food franchise I spotted in the area, but dang... Good news: The tradition of a two-hour-plus break for lunch (pranzo) is still going strong.]

II. Music - I brought my eccellente Italian accordion, massive flight case and all, and had several opportunities to play.

- Recorded tracks for six songs for Gino's next album (hopefully completed by Christmas) in his studio/wine cellar, affectionately known as "The Cave." (www.ginosansonne.com)

- Sat in with Trio Elétrico (Renato, Fabio, and Carlo), an absolutely terrific jazz group; talk about the deep end of the pool. The venue was the rooftop bar of the La Palma Hotel, overlooking Lago Maggiore. It was a perfectly cinematic evening, with clear skies, a lovely breeze, and Isola Bella lit up like a psychedelic wedding cake. Magical. I'm also pleased to report that A.J., who never lies, reported I held my own as a jazz accordionist. Cool. Renato (www.renatopompilio.com) is one of the two best musicians I have ever worked with; the other being jazz pianist Eric Byrd (www.ericbyrd.com).

- Played at a festa in Cavandone that also featured Gino and Dr. Wim, a German dentist turned jazz cat (www.drwimsjazzaffair.de); spent my 64th birthday somewhere up in the Italian Alps fielding requests from some very hospitable folks; friends of someone, I'm sure.

- Took in a performance of Eduardo (aka "Dado") and his band Sformat, a four-piece (guitar, bass, drums, vocals) Rock & Roll outfit. Dado, who is a great-looking young guy and future chick magnet, sings very well and has good stage presence. The band, which includes a woman drummer, has lots of energy, is appropriately loud, and does a quite credible job playing mostly classic American songs. (Jimi Hendrix lyrics sung phonetically are especially entertaining.) I enjoyed them very much.

III. Tourist Notes - Lago Maggiore is ridiculously spectacular and the ferry is the most convenient way to access major tourist attractions. Among our points of disembarkation:

- Giardini Botanici Villa Taranto (www.villataranto.it/eng/default.asp): These botanical gardens were established by a Scotsman who bought an existing villa and its neighboring estates and substantially rearranged the landscape. The gardens are a great place to spend an afternoon, particularly if it is unseasonably hot. I especially liked the dahlias.

- Isola Bella (www.borromeoturismo.it): The Borromeo family was/is rich and influential; e.g., one of them married into the Medicis and another became an actual saint. Naturally, they own several islands in Lago Maggiore. Isola Bella is the sight of a 17th century palace and gardens built with splendor uppermost in mind. It is sumptuous, it is fanciful, it is completely over the top. And Napoleon stayed there.

- Isola Madre (www.borromeoturismo.it): Larger and more tranquil than Isola Bella, Isola Madre is perfect for strolling, taking in the greenery, and getting hit up by the peacocks and other exotic fowls. A lovely place.

- Stresa (www.stresa.com): Located on the Gulf of Borromeo (This family even has its own gulf? Classic.), Stresa is chock full of hotels, grande and otherwise, catering to throngs of summer turisti. The town centro is small, easily navigable, and a great place to shop; although between 12h30 and 15h00, not so much. So just do lunch.

There's a boatload more to report, of course, but I don't want overdo it, since you've been kind enough to read this far. Anne and I are fully aware of and appreciate our buona fortuna in having such wonderful friends in a place so worth visiting. If you have been to Italy, you understand. If you haven't, and if at all possible, spend the money and go.

[Bonus Tourist Tip - Unless you have no alternative, avoid JFK International Airport in New York City like the plague. Absurd layout, heinous connections, and waiting for takeoff is like being in line at the DMV.]

Onward.

Rodger

Dispatches from DC #11

02 July 2011

Hello there... Rodger French here.

Extended Posting Alert

It's been an exciting week, as we had the great pleasure of hosting not one, but two Italian teenagers (aka "boychiks"), the sons of friends in northern Italy whom we are fortunate enough to visit every so often. (Our next trip is scheduled for the last two weeks of Agosto.) Naturally, we were delighted to have the boyz stay with us and, I think it fair to say, we made the most of their visit.

Several days were consumed burning up the road from DC to Baltimore (and back) in order to attend ROOTS Fest 2011, the 35th anniversary celebration of Alternate ROOTS (www.alternateroots.org). I had official bidness as musical director for one event and the three of us participated in other activities, so it was a very busy time. I'm pleased to report that the Fest was a great success and we were all covered, nay, drenched in glory.

Downside? The. Heinous. Commute. Getting out of DC was (is) so fraught with obstacles and delays that we took to placing bets on where the inevitable daily clusterf**k would occur. Driving home from Baltimore late at night was less stressful, fueled as it was by the music of Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band played at a robust volume. (Riposa In Pace, Clarence Clemmons and Danny Federici.)

We did manage to spend one full day taking in some sights in Washington, DC: The National Building Museum (including a LEGO® Architecture Exhibition), the National Mall (including massive reconstruction of the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool), and, the tour's crown jewel, Ben's Chili Bowl (including having our table bussed by Virginia, Ben's widow and family matriarch). Suitably touristed, the ladz were now ready for the Big Time: New York City.

[We had secured lodgings with our super-accommodating friends in Weehawken, NJ, 1/2 block from "The View," the world-famous-super-awesome panorama of the Hudson River and Manhattan. This being the boyz' first visit to NYC, we had a lot to work in. Pronto?]

Primo Giorno

- Arrived via Bolt Bus (I dislike buses, but the train was considerably more expensive); lunch at Ben's Delicatessen (37th St. & 7th Ave.), where your goyim correspondent endeavored to properly introduce clueless Italian boychiks to the wonders of deli and Yiddish; a mitsve, in my opinion.

- Taxi to Museum of Modern Art (MoMA, 53rd St. & 6th Ave.), the one place they specifically wanted to see. That's pretty cool.

- Strolled downtown past Rockefeller Plaza, through Times Square. [Tourist Tip #Uno: Monday is an excellent day for this. Theatres are dark and the number of tourists significantly diminished.] Dinner at the (funky as usual) Westway Diner (44th St. & 9th Ave.).

- Caught a (funkier than usual) jitney on 42nd St.; traversed the Lincoln Tunnel to Boulevard East, "The View" (the boyz were suitably impressed), and our lodgings in scenic Weehawken. Later, gelato più eccellente with our hosts at La Cremas (Park Ave. & 43rd St. in Union City, NJ)

Secondo Giorno

- Up and off via jitney and Subway to meet eight other Italian friends at the Silver Moon Bakery (105th St. & Broadway) for breakfast. Whereupon your ever-amenable tour guide picked up two more Italian teenagers for the day.

- Subway to 42nd St. and walked west to Pier 83, home of "The Beast," a Circle Line sightseeing speedboat (top speed: 45 mph): Part tour, part thrill ride, and very fun. I even have a souvenir photo.

- Subway to Chelsea Market (15th St. & 9th Ave.), where we were to rendezvous with the rest of the Italian cohort. Buona fortuna with that. Finally caught up with them at Dos Caminos (14th St. & Hudson St.) where they chowed down on Mexican. (Since we had dinner plans in, like, two hours, I ordered a nice jicama salad.) [Tourist Tip #Due: Teenage boyz are like sharks: If they don't eat more or less constantly, they will die. Luckily, in NYC, nessun problema; I recommend street vendor hot dogs every thirty minutes.]

- Bade arrivederci to the group (off to see "Mamma Mia"), walked to 23rd St., and caught the Subway uptown for dinner with our host famiglia at Queen of Sheba Ethiopian Restaurant (46th St. & 10th Ave.). Outstanding food and another exotic culinary experience for the boychiks. To their credit, they went for it, although the spicier food (which I love) was a bit much for their palates.

- In lieu of catching the jitney home, our hosts drove us downtown to take a look at the ongoing construction at the World Trade Center site. I hadn't been there since 1991, so it was a somewhat intense and interesting experience. The "Freedom Tower" is rising and the 9/11 Memorial is due to be dedicated on 09/11/11.

- Home to Weehawken, "The View," and an encore visit to La Cremas. [Tourist Tip #Tre: Order the "Purple Corn" gelato. It is sublime.]

Terzo Giorno

- Breakfast and goodbyes, then a jitney to 42nd St. Our bus was leaving from 33rd St. & 7th Ave., so we decided to walk, with frequent stops, but of course, for snacks and quality souvenir purchases. Made the bus on time, bid a fond "Ciao" to NYC, and arrived at Union Station in DC in good order. Then it was home via Metro.

Back at the ranch, the boychiks finished packing their stuff, and, after a light dinner and more goodbyes, I took them to National Airport where they caught a flight back to the (by-comparison-now-very-boring) ATL, where they'll stay until they head back to Italia. It was a great visit. They are very considerate and entertaining young men and it'll be good to see them and their families again.

But for now, I intend to lay low this July 4th weekend and recover. After all, a boychik's got to know his limitations.

Onward.

Rodger

Dispatches from DC #10

19 May 2011

Hello there... Rodger French here.

Life in the "Capital of The Free World" (by it's own admission) has settled in to a not disagreeable routine. Since meaningful employment remains, shall we say, elusive, I spend my time shopping, cooking, and generally being A.J.'s wingman. And I also have the opportunity to put in the practice/study time it takes to become a better musician. This is an unexpected and most salutary gift.

In addition to working diligently on my virtually non-existent jazz piano chops, I'm playing regularly with my pal Sol Stein, a terrific concertina player. I have also fallen in with The Washington Balalaika Society Orchestra (WBSO), an avocational ensemble that performs all manner of Russian music. (www.balalaika.org) The Artistic Director is quite the formidable musician, having studied at the Rimsky-Korsakov Conservatory in St. Petersburg.

In addition to conducting, she also arranges compositions for the group and, since she is married to an accomplished bayan player (the bayan being the Russian cousin of the accordion), the parts I am called upon to play are often very demanding. This is a good thing; at this point in my musical life, a hearty shot of intense focus and discipline is just what I need.

I have also agreed with Ruuskie Musikanti, a small-group offshoot of the WBSO, to sub for their accordionist when he is unavailable, which means yet more music to learn, albeit in a much more relaxed fashion. All the folks in the group are very nice and the performances enjoyable.

We performed yesterday for "Happenings at the Harman," a series of lunchtime programs sponsored by the Shakespeare Theatre Company. I felt a bit under-rehearsed on a couple of selections, but the audience was very nice and the gig went well. And then, as we finished and were preparing to pack up, a most extraordinary thing happened.

[Sidebar: Some accordion players play loudly and without much taste. Some succumb to the temptation to play "con formaggio molto," a little of which goes a long way. (I myself am not immune to the charms of the cheesy.) But having played the accordion since the age of six, I am painfully aware that the generally low regard in which the instrument has long been held in this country - an unreasonable prejudice that seems, thankfully, to be rapidly dissipating - is due in some part to annoyingly oblivious accordion players.]

[Quote: "There are more bad musicians than there is bad music." Issac Stern]

Anyway... after the gig, I was approached by an older gentleman speaking a language literally foreign to me - Russian, perhaps. Notwithstanding my ignorance, he was most insistent on making his point and once I ceased trying to "understand" what he was saying and started really paying attention and listening to his words as music, I understood clearly. (I feel a bit sheepish relaying this, but it was such a profound experience...)

Obviously moved, he conveyed to me his appreciation for my playing the accordion with feeling. And then he reached out and put his hand on my heart. It was a humbling moment. It was the highest accolade any musician could ever hope to receive.

It was what we live for.

[Quote: "When you perform, remember that some of your audience may be hearing this music for the first time, and some for the last." Robert Shaw]

Onward.

Rodger

Dispatches from DC #09

08 March 2011

Hello there... Rodger French here.

Washington, DC (well... Arlington, VA) is a fine place to live for a couple of years. In addition to having groceries, restaurants, and all manner of other services within easy walking distance, we even get Al Jazeera English on the TV, so it's possible to obtain actual comprehensive international news 24/7. Knowing what's going on outside the good old U.S. of A. seems increasingly important these days.

Anne and I are still quite keen to go forward to our next assignment in September 2012; with any luck, we'll decamp before the 06 November election and subsequent (and eagerly anticipated) Apocalypse predicted for 21 December. (Not to cast a pall on anyone's End Times festivities, but isn't it possible that the Mayan calendar ended just to start all over again? Or maybe they ran out of special calendar stones to carve it on? I'm just askin'.)

In any case, we continue to make the most of our stay here, which often entails hopping aboard the socialistic Metro system and taking in one of the many wonderful socialistic (and consequently) free museums. Last Saturday, we visited the Smithsonian American Art Museum and the National Portrait Gallery, which are contiguous and located not far from what's left of Chinatown. Naturally, we meandered through the "Hall of Presidents," a suitably impressive display. I especially admired the painting of President Andrew Jackson, which may be the most flattering portrait of a war criminal ever commissioned.

Then came something totally unexpected.

As many of you know, I am not a religious person, having long ago escaped the clutches of Baptist fundamentalism, and generally regard organized religions as cults that have simply gotten out of hand. But what the heck; "to each their own," "do to others what you would have them do to you," and "laissez la fin des temps rouler." Heathen though I may be, I do nonetheless fervently appreciate that religion has been most beneficent to our tragically failing species when it comes to music and the arts.

I was reminded of this when, whilst perusing the "Folk Art" exhibition, I happened upon "The Throne of the Third Heaven of the Nations' Millennium General Assembly" by James Hampton. For a comprehensive description and image, here's the link. You should check it out:

http://americanart.si.edu/collections/search/artwork/?id=9897

Mr. Hampton, a janitor and the self-titled "Director, Special Projects for the State of Eternity," created, in a rented garage, religious art of the highest order and I am earnestly grateful to have come across it. For me, it's a visual equivalent of the music of Marion Williams, the great Gospel singer; majestic and fearless, abundant with faith and power. If Jesus ever does need an earthly place to perch, he couldn't do better than Mr. Hampton's throne.

Duly moved, we spent the rest of the afternoon wandering about the 'hood, peeking into shoppes, and enjoying a Chinese lunch in a funky little place where most of the diners were apparently Chinese. It was a nice trip into the nation's capital (Official motto: "Taxation Without Representation") and we'll be visiting again soon. I urge you to do so as well, especially if you're an American taxpayer. After all, you deserve your socialist money's worth.

Onward.

Rodger

Dispatches from DC #08

14 February 2011

Hello there... Rodger French here.

In case you are curious as to why you haven't received a posting recently, there is a trés simple explanation: I've had nothing - bupkis, zilch, nada, - of any real interest to report. I have, however, just returned from two weeks on the road on a package tour, of sorts; that is, a confluence of three major events, each of which provided reasonable justification for braving America's decaying Interstate system and the rapacious VA State Police. In aggregate, these affairs occasioned a perfect storm for even the most experienced road warrior.

Event #1 - The Groundhog Day Jugglers Festival

The 33rd Annual, to be specific; and since I can legitimately take credit for founding the Atlanta Jugglers Association and initiating this festival (with many collaborators, of course), I like to attend whenever I'm in country. This year, 168 registered jugglers and hundreds more onlookers gathered in the auditorium of the Yaarab Shrine Temple in the ATL for a weekend of big fun. It's a wonderful event that really hasn't changed much over the years, and that includes my role as MC for the competition.

I also served as bandleader for the Late Night Cabaret, which meant, glamour aside, being called upon to do some massive schlepping of the sound system and other musical paraphernalia/accoutrement. Which was OK; that's just part of the deal. All in all, it was great to play around, reconnect with olde chums, and meet some of the (as Ed Sullivan would say) "youngsters" who already have mad skillz. (http://www.atlantajugglers.org)

Event #2 - One Night Only: Lenny & LaBanana & Friends

The two rehearsals we managed to shoehorn into a busy week were not in vain: It was a classic concert. Everyone sounded great, and, as musical director, I'm please to report that The DeLuxe Vaudeville Orchestra unequivocally brought its "A" game. The folks at the Lawrenceville Road United Methodist Church (http://www.lrumc.com) were most hospitable and the crowd was large and enthusiastic. To those of you who attended this memorable event, my sincerest thanks.

The ostensible reason for all this show bidness brouhaha/bonhomie was, as you may have heard, the departure of LaBanana, my dear friend and long-time Vaudeville partner, for sunnier climes. Segue to...

Event #3 - LaBanana Moves to Florida

A.J. and I have moved four times in the last five years, but that only partially prepared me for a relocation that may immodestly be described as "the end of an era." LaBanana has been a fixture in Atlanta for decades and has accumulated innumerable friends, associates, and colleagues. She has also managed to obtain and hold onto an extraordinary amount of "stuff." Staying at her house during the pack-out was like living inside an exploding clown closet. Amazing.

But with the able assistance of many friends, especially Captain Black (from Cat Island in the Bahamas; home, incidentally, of the "Rake & Scrape Festival"), and four very nice Mexican movers, she managed to fill up two (2) large trucks and send them on their way. I am pleased to report that LaBanana made it safely to Orlando and is reunited with her parents and all her things. Happy landings, indeed.

I, on the other hand, headed north to check in on my place near Hot Springs, NC (which reminds me a bit of Cicely, AK in "Northern Exposure") and work out some home improvement details with my local contractor friends. Then, back to Arlington, to contemplate life, music, and etc. until our next move in 2012.

(Sigh.) And I've got way too much stuff.

Onward.

Rodger