And The Band Played On and Then There Was One: The Big Weight: Marking Robbie Robertson's Passing:

 I hope you do not mind my somewhat stream of consciousness.

A couple of years ago for Native American Heritage month in November, I did a joint informal program (in words and sounds) with a music representative of the Smithsonian Museum of the American Indian on the many contributions of indigenous people to rock, pop, blues, jazz, folk, and country. Among many other artists, I talked about Robbie 's contributions as a child of a mom who was Cayuga and Mohawk, raised on the Six Nations Reserve southwest of Toronto, Ontario, and a son of a Jewish biological dad. I noted his Canadian roots and his ability to compose and perform the perfect Americana earth rock song book.

After seeing Robbie as a backup to Ronnie Hawkins and rockabillying to "Susie Q," and other billydom classics, I first saw Robbie live as a member of the Hawks, the backup band for Dylan relatively shortly after Dylan went partly and then almost fully electric. That first live appearance was at the Philadelphia Academy of Music (a classical music venue similar to NYC's Carnegie) after winning a radio trivia contest for tickets. Dylan did the first half of the concert acoustically and then after intermission, brought up the electric guitar and harmonica, and the Hawks, and they played masterfully while being soundly booed by the half or more of the audience that were folkie purists. I was slightly conflicted by my then fuller allegiance to the more pure folk, but at the same excited by the reworking of some of the Dylan “classic” songs turning electric and rocking and shaking the classic hall.

I next saw Robbie at the Brooklyn Academy of Music with his new group, the Band, making their first "major" appearance outside of their now legendary Big Pink Woodstock home base. It was their professional debut as a group, and it was my first voluntary assignment as a rock critic for the regional, almost legendary "Good Times/Action World" publication--now in its 54th year..

At first, the Band seemed a little shaky as they quickly worked into their more natural groove, while I was trying to find my inner voice as a critic. Their earthly driven sounds of American story-ied life, "driving ol Dixie down," and pulling into "Nazareth," quickly lifted my confidence to appreciate on multi-levels this very basic music and we together became a natural force of unified nature.

Robbie contributed a lot to this North Americana life while rockabillying, Dylan-backing, Banding it and soloing over the years, and now he has danced his "last waltz: and returned to the earth and nature he lifted up, Thanks for reading and rocking through.

Where I have been and where I am bound

 As our world spins rapidly into the future of advanced intelligence (artificial, generative, and otherwise), and some new realities (virtual, hybrid, physical, electronic, acoustic, and the like (or not like)), it is refreshing sometimes to step away and feel the breeze for a moment. Remember what it was like to rediscover a missing part of a puzzle, or a pair of shoes or another article of clothing that you wore for just a short period of time (in the longer scheme of things at least), that you hadn't seen for a while. It had gone out of mind and body, and maybe a little bit out of style, but refreshingly and somewhat joyfully it just turned up and reappeared. For me, it turned up one clear and peaceful night as I was looking for something else. And I just had to stop to take in the moment and be mindful that there really is more to our variety to life than all we are experiencing in our usual day-to-day and my hum and my drum moments. There is time to step out and up, up and away from what has maybe become a comfortable routine, and into something bigger and a little different.

That was the feeling I got last night when I heard Tom Paxton and friend-ster, Don Henry easily playing their guitars, and singing and harmonizing a variety of what probably are still characterized and genre-ified as "folk songs." There were both, what had become old standards mixed in with some new (hopefully to be) standards that had been written during the recent COVID and Zoom-fed times. There was the clear and clean guitar playing backup for some satirical and straightforward songs and emotion-filled stories; and there was the whimsical, easy-going stage banter that should be heard more in these often described as anxiety-ridden times. They anchored their songs with an earthy wit and wisdom that filled and sprayed into the cooler and calm night air. Paxton was as softly plugged-in and present as ever, and Henry was a willing and playful companion as they embodied the characters they played in their songs. On a bare regional park Amphitheatre stage nestled comfortably amongst the trees, the audience often sang along and willingly participated in the sense of an easy closeness that beckoned the coming of summer.

Not quite as passionate politically as a Phil Ochs or a Pete Seeger, or as bluesy-real as a Mississippi John Hurt or a Lightnin' Hopkins, or as deeply poetic as a Dylan or a Leonard Cohen, or as profoundly sincere sounding as a Joan Baez, a Joni Mitchell, or a Judy Collins, or as electo-phi-ingly prepared to enter the rock pantheon as a Bruce Springsteen, or a Crosby, Stills, Nash or a Young, Tom was always regarded as a solid first-stringer who sang and wrote songs that seemed like they had always been there and never written at one point in time. For anyone who monitored the Village, the Boston/Cambridge, or the Chicago folk scene or casually followed the collegiate folk boom of the time, Paxton has always been considered one of the humble greats (the Grammys even honored him with a Lifetime Achievement Award). Tom (and his friend Don) still own and hone their homey, unprepossessing voices to spin tales lightly with the easy accompaniment of the guitars that string subtly yet are filled with fun and variety.

Paxton exudes a pleasant aw-shucks informality and endearing casualness even on somewhat life-changing if not sustaining topics such as eternal friendship and the hopefully eternal environment. Whether its hearing or singing along to "Bottle of Wine," "Ramblin' Boy" "The Last Thing on My Mind," or "Can't Help But Wonder Where I'm Bound," I now know a little bit more about where I have been, "and where I am bound."

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31Jean Farkas, Jeffrey Golland and 29 others

Jazzing for EDucation and Freedom

 On April 4, summer came early (for a day or two at least) to the DC area and on that day, the U.S. Department of Education (ED) hosted its tenth (or so) annual Jazz Informance (part performance, and part jazz lesson) in collaboration with the Herbie Hancock institute of Jazz (HHIJ). Along with the heat, came some hot jazz from four of the most gifted and talented high school jazz students from performing arts schools in DC, Baltimore, and NYC, playing with a gifted music teacher from Baltimore School for the Arts, and an off-the-charts, talented jazz trumpeter and educator Terrell Stafford.

The students were: Quinn Rehkemper, alto saxophone, junior—Baltimore School for the Arts; Seif Gharsellaoui, tenor saxophone, senior—LaGuardia High School of Music & Art and Performing Arts; José André Montano, piano, junior—Duke Ellington School of the Arts; and Julian Frazier, drums, junior—Baltimore School for the Arts. The teacher was Ed Hrybyk, bass, Director of Jazz Studies—Baltimore School for the Artts.

They played flawlessly the works of Hank Mobley. Joe Henderson, Dizzy Gillespie, and Miles Davis. And after a standing ovation from the audience, they played an encore with a special "One by One" tribute to the recently deceased, Wayne Shorter (a special friend of Herbie Hancock and jazz enthusiasts around the world).

Maureen Dowling of ED and Secretary of Education, Miguel Cardona, introduced the program, and I had the honor of giving short remarks as well as introducing a master jazz instructor, Dr. J.B. Dyas from the HHIJ. Dr. Dyas (along with the performers) gave a lesson or two to the audience making the complexities of jazz simple and understandable, and showing what really makes jazz the magic that it is. .

In that packed Education Department auditorium of students and their teachers and ED colleagues (with on line audience watching as well), we became part of a joyful and soulful explosion of spontaneity, risk-taking, individuality, collaboration, teamwork, trust, and freedom that exemplify the American spirit and the principles of leadership at its finest. On this day, at ED. history was made and remade.

When responding to audience questions, the students were as articulate and thoughtful with words as they were with their music. If you ever doubted that students of all ages can learn, that good teachers can teach even the most difficult of subjects, and that people of all views can get engaged and come out of their comfort zones to collaborate for a greater good, your doubts were put to rest in ninety short and shining minutes. The power of music to influence thinking skills, the power of teaching and learning, the power of being open to new views and ideas, the power of taking risks and learning from the mistakes that might come, all came together through the sounds and the words of a diverse team of gifted. yet humble student musicians and teachers, playing with an experienced virtuoso. This was truly a lesson and an experience for the ages. You can experience it for yourself at:

https://mediasite.ed.gov/.../9e75a52127564d8bb6d96151752d...

But please feel no pressure to watch.

"He sang it the way it needed to be played..."

Jerry Lee Lewis who passed away at the age of 87 lit a fuse to rock and roll, creating "Whole Lot of Shakin' Going On," and "Great Falls of Fire," while leaving his fans "Breathless," and rock and roll would never be the same. His first hit was a amped up version of a country classic, Ray Price's "Crazy Arms." He was known by his childhood name "the Killer," and admitted that he sang "the Devil's Music." He made some bad choices along the way, and halted a star-making career with one of those bad choices, but he continued to rock on, gospel on, and country on to rebuild his career as a "country and western" and "gospel" singer after his rock appeal had subsided.

But his influence lived on in rock artists like Elton John, Bruce Springsteen, and other eternal rockers like the Beatles. He was the last living member of the first entering class (in 1986) at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and he now has passed away. He was probably rock's finest pianist if not its most energetic with his rollicking exuberance style.

He was often unshakable in his view of what he should do and the way he should sing and play. As a teen, he was asked to leave a bible institute after playing ‘My God Is Real’ in his swah-buckling boogie-woogie style, and rock ’n’ roll style. [He] figured that’s the way it needed to be played.”

Bruce Springsteen said that Jerry Lee he was not just a rock artist he was rock'n'roll. He captured it's energy, it's enthusiasm, it's worts, and its failures. Jerry Lee contributed to all of them. And when the rumors of his death started to come out a few days ago, his spokespeople denied its truth, Like everything he did, he wanted to die on his own terms when he wanted to, and where he wanted to. 

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Mary-ing Time and Place

 I was sad to learn in today’s print edition of the NY Times, of the passing of “Mary McCaslin, 75, Folk Singer Who Longed for Old West.” I learned that she passed away at her home on October 2, a few weeks ago. I was somehow glad that it took a couple of weeks to disseminate the news, because Mary seemed to come from another time and place when communications were not so instant and rapid, when word travelled more organically, and you had time to savor one communication and memory without being bombarded with many. I knew she had been sick, suffering from a rare neurological disease. I had hoped for a recovery for her, and for science to catch up to what it had not been able to solve yet, but the time was not quite right or ripe for that, and the gentle Times obituary closed that hope for now.  

Mary was called by some as “iconic,” but I know that not too many know or knew of her talents, including her often close to pitch perfect arrangements of her own songs, and her arrangements of the classics from the Beatles to Motown to the great American songbook, spiked with her often exquisite voice. I was introduced to her close to 50 years ago with her pleasantly lilting “San Bernadino Waltz.” I often loved hearing her singing and playing guitar, but her music felt like a very sweet treat, like the wonderful cheese pastry I tried this morning from a local yet national organically-styled market. It was a truly wonderful taste experience, but one I wanted to savor and maybe not experience too often (for it might take away from the experience, and with regard to the pastry, for the good of my health, if nothing else).

The obituary described Mary as “a pure-voiced folk singer who sang plaintive laments for the fading Old West, reimagined pop and rock classics as mountain ballads and was an innovator of open tunings on the guitar…,” The obituary compared her to Joni Mitchell, whose open-tuning adventures took her into inflections of jazz, while Mary went the opposite way into more Celtic oriented and Old West directed sounds. One reviewer of her music pushed into using language such as describing her “clear, delicately affecting vocals” and the way her “unorthodox guitar tunings create unusual, ethereal melodies of striking beauty.” While another reviewer used language such as ““[h]er point of view suggests a woman who grew up riding horses under the open sky of the high plains. Even Miss McCaslin’s experiments with Motown songs conjure a plaintive rusticity.” Her version of the Supremes’ hit “You Keep Me Hangin’ On,” inspired the reviewer to say that she “transforms the tune from an urban teen-oriented lament into a mountain-flavored folk song of quiet, adult desperation.”

It is no accident that her music drives writers into pushing on the outer limits of language. I am hopeful that her passing inspires more people to learn of her music and to listen in to the sounds that conjure up a simpler world of purer values and better use of time, giving science the time to catch up with the continuing challenges of the day. 

A Master Teller of His and Her Story

 David McCullough, who passed away at 89 was the “every man” or the “every person” of history telling or retelling. From one vantage point, he had the dignity and earned the respect of the people almost as much as the historical figures he covered. From another perspective, he could break down key historical events and figures into digestible pieces that had a unique way of telling a whole story. He had a positive, optimistic point of view that made history approachable, interesting, and hopeful. When he was developing a book or book idea, he did not feel he was working on a book; he was living within the book he was creating. His recreation of the past will live on long into the future.

23Gretta Sandberg, Lewis Freeman and 21 others

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