Adelaide Crapsey

Read more about Adelaide Crapsey

Where the note ends

The last time I took clarinet lessons was in 1988, and it was with two good college professors who knew their stuff. More than 20 years later, I'm having the opportunity to study with a master musician, one of whose many talents is representing the sound of the clarinet to millions of television viewers. After hearing him on records since the 1970s, it was my first chance to see this guy (I haven't asked his permission to write about him so you'll have to guess) last month, where he was in the guitar player's group. I knew I was going to see a master sideman at work, but I had no idea how profound. He led the band without leading it and has an incredible musical partnership with the guitar player. Even better were his telegraphing of dynamics, harmonic cues and resonance. I can't begin to tell you what it is like to have a lesson with a master musician. Well, many people can tell a similar story I'm sure.
It's making me thing of resonance, which seems to have something to do with the origin of the sound, something you can have control over and even increase resonance.  On clarinet, it's a great thing to imagine. But strictly speaking, resonance, is how the note is ended. "Prolongation of sound by reflection or vibration of other bodies."
Nothing does this like a violin or drum, or a harp. The thing itself is vibrating, and some of those vibrations are going to be caught by the audience's eardrums. Resonance is going to happen.

 Listening to my clarinet teacher's sound on a couple of his latest CDs, there is a way to make the clarinet resonate, and he is doing it. I am hoping some of this great articulation is transferable!


I'm thinking about practicing diminuendo on clarinet. And how to make sure the note ends with resonance.

Conway NH ain't no place for the weary kind

 The Oscar nominated song takes on new meaning in Anytown, USA

A Conway New Hampshire record store owner is standing up to the economy with a message that everyone can understand. It's the Oscar nominated song "The Weary Kind."

And, a connection to the movie the song is from.

I'm on his mailing list cause I shop there and have a book room in the back.

Here's a mail he just sent:

Hi, all
I'm looking forward to this Monday's Open Mic at the library, hope you are, too! Featured performer will be Andy Davis, a seasoned storyteller, sharing his global adventures in prose. Read more about Andy here!
After Andy's performance, the mic will be open to poets & songsters of all genres.
Throughout the evening, I'd like to share with you a few personal anecdotes that relate to the movie "Crazy Heart". which may win the Oscar on Sunday Night, and is currently being shown at the Majestic Theater/Conway Cafe in Conway Village. The late guitarist/songwriter Stephen Bruton collaborated closely with T-Bone Burnett in the making of the movie, in music & inspiration. Some say Jeff Bridges character was loosely based on moment's in Stephen's life, but it's all hearsay, and could be applied to any musician who struggled to make it, then struggled to maintain. Stephen died last summer during the making of this film
Back in the 70's, living in Texas, I worked a few years at Record Town, in Fort Worth, which was owned, and is still operated, by the Bruton family. You can read a bit about it here. This store was where i became enamored with the record business, and why my record shop on Main Street exists today. Listening to the theme from the movie "The Weary Kind", I'm reminded of how true the lyrics are, how they resonant to the common man, in even these times, & in this economy, in our town.
I'd like to share my rendition of this song at the end of the open mic, and would love for anyone who feels it to join me as well. There's a great YouTube link to song, with lyrics. Bring your guitar, tambourine, marxophone (Katherine?), or just sing along! And don't forget to see the movie at the Majestic this week...Joe Quirk has even offered to provide some finger foods from the Conway Cafe to us all Monday night!.
See you there,
Harlan

Small business finance advice from 1999

A few people have asked where they can find some of my decade-old articles on small business finance. Here are the links. They are drastically in need of updating, but also contain some advice that is always timely.


Defining Key Financial Ratios

Five Severe Warning Signs of Cash Flow Problems

Action Plan: Forecasting and Cash Flow Budgeting

Key Questions to Ask a Prospective CPA

Turning Assets Into Cash

Action Plan: Debt Management and Banking

Action Plan: Using Economic Forecasts

Choosing Accounting Software

Debt Management and Banking: Establish a Contingency Plan

Establishing Credit Limits

Collection Techniques to Avoid

Vinyl Record Musing

It seems like 1-2 million new vinyl records are sold every year....up some years and down others....and who knows how many previously owned vinyl records have changed hands. In the midst of all the arguments over which has the better sound, it's easy to forget a primary distinction.
Going back in time, people used to compare radio sound, recorded sound, and live sound. All of it was "analog," whatever that means.
Consider the vinyl record. Even though it is mass produced, the sound comes from grooves cut in the record. Compared to a CD, or mp3, or wav or wma, it IS LIVE MUSIC. The record is making that music. What happened before the record was made may have involved tape or even digital mastering, but the RECORD IS PLAYING MUSIC.
The digital file, by contrast, is re-constructing music which resides in digital code. And, it's truly amazing how this has become the primary way of listening to music. People love it, while at the same time, it has laid waste to the whole business of music distribution and live performance.
The art of the club DJ was once about the vinyl record. Now software can do just about the same thing.
Selling records since 1997, we seldom know the age or motivations of our buyers. We've been selling books the same amount of time and most years, records are more popular than books.
Records--- bulky, labor-intensive, delicate--- are a big export from the USA to other countries.
And perhaps many people play them only once.
But, the intensity of that one play experience cannot be denied. The record, the music, the effort that went into it, and its cultural significance are handy stimulants available to anyone for a dollar and up.
The most fun of records is going back in time. Most people do not realize that before the late 1940s, records were mostly documents of a performance, rather than a corporate concoction in a studio that started out with the "raw materials" of musicians playing.
Many record fans are eventually led back to the 1920s and 1930s when recording was often a game of 'catch as catch can'.
Perhaps one day digital re-creations will display their lineage of romance and culture. It's probably a matter of demographics.
One artist who worked well with the detritus of analog imagery, including records and TV, was Nam June Paik.
The vinyl record has earned its place in the fields of mass production AND art.

Toyota, chain saws, and war

I was going to put a picture of my Toyota and my chain saw side by side, but that's just dumb. You can guess which one prompted a visit to the "walk-in" clinic the other day.
I had been wondering about these facilities and how they advertise as sort of a convenience store for minor medical conditions, etc. As I walked in, around 9 in the morning, three people were having an office tete-a-tete around the water cooler in the reception area. They were drinking little paper funnels of water as fast as they could. They seemed to have come from the same workplace, but were surprised to see each other there.
One guy said, "last time, I had a week's notice." The girl said, "They just called me last night." Then she said, "I could sure use a beer right now."
That little encounter helped me speculate one use for the walk-in clinic. It helped me, too. Ever been to a walk-in clinic? First I was seen by an RN, who prepped me for stitches. Then came an MD, who declined to suture. Finally, an EMT, who gave me a tetanus shot.
The MD who wouldn't stitch together my palm wound said, "Chain saws are the next most dangerous thing to war."
Nice emphasis, doctor.
And, food for thought. Because he left out..... automobiles.
Having driven Toyotas since the early 1980s, I haven't lost any sleep over not being a "Chevy man" (default position in 1960s and 1970s) any more.
Others might prefer the safe haven of a Volvo or a Suburban but I drive "tin cans" because they use less fossil fuel.
Many Toyota owners are hearing about problems with this car company, voiced loudly by the current managers of General Motors--- the U.S. Government. It seems Toyota-- according to the U.S. Dept of Transportation-- was not too quick to take the blame for random acceleration of their cars.
Actually I applaud them for hesitating to put the blame on an inanimate object, considering tort reform is not happening any time soon. And, even considering that the inanimate object is of their own manufacture.
Word the wise: Internal combustion engines are the next most dangerous thing to war.
Stepping on a gas pedal is done by a human.
Lest we forget, there are not too many things a car can do by itself that are against the law. In some places, being in your front lawn without a current registration is one of them.
Most problems with cars seem to involve a driver.
I was sitting in front of an old glass-front 7-11 back in the 1980s, in a rented Ford Pinto. I was not very familiar with the car. I put it in drive instead of reverse, hit the gas, and you know the rest.
Got lucky and only broke the glass.
As busy as most drivers can be, doing things that do not contribute to driving, we are fair game for the notion of a "runaway car."
How do you tell if you have a runaway car? Perhaps if you turn off the ignition and it doesn't go off?
I had a fussy gas pedal once and I learned how to stick the tip of my foot under the pedal and pull it back.
OK, driving a car that is about to be recalled isn't for everybody. Nor is using a chain saw, even with all the necessary safety accoutrements.
Which I have now bought, by the way. Shout out to the folks at Windy Ridge in Tamworth.
And, I look forward to a real good deal on my next Toyota. Anybody got a Tundra they don't trust? I live dangerously.

Amateur on a pro stage

I've had plenty of luck, I’m just not talented. I'm suited to finding and offering items online at moneyblows books and music. I've often helped the store by playing music gigs, but the pay has gotten so minimal that my music-playing has joined the culture of "we play but don't look down on us because we have other livelihoods."

When I moved to New England at the age of 54, it was a revelation to me that music playing is divided between pros and amateurs. The point was driven home last night by the leader of the group I played with, at the Press Room in Portsmouth, NH.

There seemed to be a ritual modesty in place. The leader started out the evening with a lecture to the audience that we are a group who will play for weddings, but we mostly play for fun. When I think of playing for fun, I think Albert Ayler must have been having fun. Coltrane must have been having fun. Sun Ra must have had fun. But playing Route 66 or Girl from Ipanema for fun? Where I come from, that was for money.

I'm taken back to when playing for fun was also full of promise. There was one time when my audience actually included Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell. T-Bone Burnett could tell you more about this. We actually had notice a week in advance it was going to happen. Every Friday and Saturday we played at the New Bluebird Night Club on Horne Street in Fort Worth. This would have been in 1975 or 76, when the Rolling Thunder Revue came through to play the Tarrant County Convention Center. Part of the Rolling Thunder Revue was J. Henry Burnett, a Fort Worth producer and performer who had just finished producing a live album at this location with Robert Ealey and the Five Careless Lovers. When I joined the band, it made more than five, so our lead guitarist, Little Junior One Hand, renamed the band Robert Ealey and the Drifting Heartbreaks. With no specific number we could also add Johnny Reno to make two saxes and others as needed.

The weekend before this happened, T-Bone Burnett sent word. That began a week of hell for me, wondering how I might contribute to making this a good diversion for T-Bone's illustrious friends. I could barely play the sax enough to stay on the Robert Ealey gig, and look who was coming to see it? The day they were supposed to come, I must have started drinking beer early, for I was plastered by the time the gig began at about 10 p.m. Surely enough after the Rolling Thunder Revue got off their Tarrant County Convention Center show, a limo with Bob and Joni somehow found its way down to Horne Street, in the Como section of Fort Worth, and the New Bluebird Night Club. They pulled up in front on the corner of Horne and Wellesley and came in while we were playing “Ill Take You There.” You could spot each of them, Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell, by their hats.

I wished for the ghost of Willie Lee Johnson to take over my sax. He was a local guy who had played with Ray Charles for awhile and was being seen sporadically around Como and the Trinity River Bottoms in the mid-1970s. He came to the Bluebird once while I was playing. I let him borrow my tenor and during his solo he threw the sax up in the air with one hand and caught it with the other. I thought, if I lose my sax to Willie Lee Johnson, there are more expensive lessons out there in life. Because that cat could wail. He didn't drop the horn but there was a second when I thought he might. After his solo he basically passed out and a few weeks later we heard he passed for good.

The Bluebird had a motto "Everybody's Somebody at the Bluebird." Nobody was pros or amateurs. I've tried to maintain that illusion about music playing, but reality doesn't bear it out. I hosted a jazz jam for many years. As time went by the students sounded more like students and the pros were astounding. Folks like B.J. Crosby or Marchel Ivery were a regular occurrence. Over time, with fewer pros out there on live gigs, the music I've played has been taken over by students and teachers. Many teachers are also pros. Last night in Portsmouth, we announced ourselves as amateurs, "truth in packaging." None of us teach or depend on venues for our groceries. And it wasn't Willie Lee Johnson who came to mind in my sax playing. I visualized a local guy, a well known sax player, who triggers excitement around these parts by playing a lot of notes. He's a pro. I thought of him and pleasing the audience the way he does.

So, I played a lot of notes. Even amateurs can play a lot of notes!!!