Getting Personal

Over the next few months I am going to be making a most dramatic move. After about twenty-seven years in the big city on the East Coast I am moving to a much smaller town down South quite close to Asheville. One of the main reasons is economic. For those who might not know, from the time I was born until about two years ago ( I will be fifty in October), I was involved with a family business which shall remain nameless for the purposes of this piece. Unbeknownst to me, around the time of my father's death, many complications surrounding the condition and financial well being of this business emerged such that it was necessary to essentially sell it off to a large company that specializes in saving businesses in trouble.

Most unfortunately, a condition of that transfer was that I would no longer be in employment, even though I was one of the only people associated with the business who was there from the very beginning and at one time or another had done just about every job that had been associated with the business, including assembly line work in the factory, shipping, bookkeeping in the office, opening a couple of new accounts on the road, and attending industry conventions.

For a period of about thirty years I also wrote a regular arts and culture column that was associated with the business and interviewed a number of prominent figures including Jacques Barzun, James Ellroy, political activists, musicians of all kinds, and other kinds of artists. Many of the major artistic events of the later 1980s and through the 1990s were ones I reviewed or covered in some way. This newspaper was an opportunity for me to keep in touch with was going on culturally and gave me institutional support for my journalistic duties.  The newspaper was canceled sometime in 2011. Speaking of the company as a whole, from what I understand, the company will go on but in an altered form and with a largely new group of people constituting it's staff and personnel.

For about fifteen years I had no knowledge of some of the problems present in the business as I had no authority in managing or running operations. My knowledge was restricted to matters such as how the product was selling (and it did have a steady and loyal following) and some changes in product design. An enormous amount of information was unknown to me, leaving me with the impression that things stood on far sturdier ground when the ground had actually been something like a sinking quicksand. Only over time was everything presented to me. There is a quite universal human interest in safeguarding people from bad news of any kind, or to avoid conflict. Also because I have not lived in the physical location of operations of the company itself for a few decades, I was not a part of the daily culture of the work environment and cannot in any way comment on the nature of that.  One of the things about journalism of course is that you can send in articles from a destination far from the physical office and this was practically as true in the pre-internet days. And most of my musical projects were on the East Coast as well, for a time in the 90s, in Europe as well.

In 2015 I sold my home and tried to live life as a renter which, to put it in a most understated fashion, has not been easy, the rental market being quite overcrowded, volatile and unstable. From 1999 to 2015 I had lived in a two bedroom home in the greatest location in a thriving city. I was able to do my musical work anytime of the day or night, as I lived over a garage and thus shielded all my neighbors from the sound. For two decades I enjoyed this setup, thinking it would not end.

Currently I have found a place where I can do my musical and writing projects at far less cost and in relative peace and that place happens to be in another geography of these United States. If you must know I will be living alone as I have done for some thirty years. A lot of my decision making is based on the fact that I am not planning - for the short term anyway - to live with anybody.  My traveling 1970s museum will be coming with me though it is much smaller than many would think.  Most importantly of all, I will finally be reunited with the magnificent Steinway on which I leaned to play back in the late 1970s and early 80s and which, for various reasons I was separated from due to my decision to live on the East Coast and the inability to find a home to accommodate a grand. Happily, my mother preserved and saved the piano for me, keeping it in top condition. I have played pianos  in Lincoln Center, and other places around the world and when I say this piano is one of the greatest I have ever touched I would not be in any sense exaggerating.

One of the first items of business for the new year, aside from finally creating a digital software score for my collaborative trombone and piano concertino with Sanifu Al Hall Jr.  I am very excited to do a double concerto with Hall. He is an extraordinary musician with not only full knowledge of music itself but also aspects of musical production, technology, and engineering. And of course the trombone is an instrument that can always use more utilization and the combination with piano, strings, brass and a popular rhythm section is a good idea.

But as that double concertino is already written my next quite big project is to write a second piano concerto for myself, a second concerto for improvised piano and orchestra. The last one I wrote was in 1997. I feel it is time for another one. I have already begun collecting themes for it. It will have many styles in it, a lot of which will be quite romantic as well and rhythmic, with lots of room for good old fashioned improvising over the all important changes. But more on that at another date.

The point of all of this biographical summary is for me to reflect on the nature of radical change in ones' life. I have been meaning to write a philosophically inclined post on the subject for close to a year now and I am taking this "life event" as an opportunity do put a few thoughts down on the nature of change.

Now one of the things we are constantly told in the contemporary or current epoch is that change is the only constant in life. One recurring meme (the word meme being of the more unfortunate of the new jargon that infests our life, whether it is imported from the humanities or the sciences) is this slogan, common in advertising, "it's what you do." Never before has there been such slavish conformity as during our current internet age.

One of the most profoundly anti-democratic events of the past thirty years is the fact that we replaced an entire way of life, based on things like telephones, retail stores to which we travelled to buy the things of life, and all the tiniest habits that we could call physical and three dimensional, with our current internet/computer based life. When being normative in my description I have called it the age of politicization and moralization (that is, a world of moral and emotional disapproval or praise of all human action and a division of the world into parties based on whether it is a like or a dislike). If I were being more descriptive I would call it the Age Of Simultaneity, an age whose main feature is that you can call up in seconds visual documentations or copies of every piece of visual or audible culture humans created for much of the twentieth century up to the present.

I call this decision anti-democratic because not once were the millions or billions of people really asked to reflect on whether any of this was a good idea, nor were they given an option to opt out. A few engineering geniuses simply decided we should live like this, mainly because it reflected their tastes or sensibilities, or specialized knowledge. There were no public forums of significance, except to announce what it was and how it was supposed to work, which by definition is not any kind of forum, and certainly no public deliberations about the pros and cons.

There was much serious critique among intellectuals, by Sven Birkerts, Jaron Lanier, and others, but this was never a public forum involving real-life decision making. We all sort of woke up one day and found we had to live this entirely new kind of life wherein we have to walk around looking at these portable objects all day, since it is has been decreed that these little objects are to be used for everything we do. I must say that though democracy is many times the right way to go, it is not always the best policy. That something is done in an anti-democratic fashion is not necessarily a case against the thing done. It seems to me, however, that when it comes to matters mandatory for social and private life,  a little democracy might be in order.

One of the reasons for this enormous cultural revolution is that the form the revolution took was in keeping with some of the oldest intuitions of most of the world, particular religious traditions: that the world and all people in it are at bottom one and the physical manifestations of separation are unreal, backwards and exclusive and are to be overcome if we are to progress. In that sense the internet is a mass market, literalist form of the oldest perennial philosophy.

The problem with this of course is that we can't really know for sure if we are all one: it is just a mystical feeling that a lot of people have always had. Of course a scientist or mystic can prove to us that is the case, and in this sense we are one; physicist and mystic seem to converge on this. When I question the proposition of oneness what I mean is that we can't know for sure how we are supposed to live in consequence of the fact.  Moreover, life consists of both oneness and separateness: our physical embodiment after all,  siamese twins notwithstanding, is singular (and this is important even if physicality is one sense illusory in the sense certain religions assert).

We also can't be sure that the destruction of separation or distance of time and space is either necessary, salutary or vindicatory. And the ability to reproduce or recall every record of all the stuff humans have created in the past in an instant in the present raises many more issues than mere copyright. There are questions not only of monetization of course, which might be the most urgent, but also sanity, and possible limits in human psychology. If one is to invoke incipient AI, there is the additional question of the "Turing Test", labor competition, joblessness on a mass scale, and all the rest of it.

It is, in my mind anyway, highly more likely that we aren't one in a literal sense or can't achieve oneness, at least without a fight - the kind of fight that might make such achievement pyrrhic: our differences are significant and profound, maybe inevitable and permanent. Maybe humans need to be as separate from one another, if only to keep the peace, as together with one another.  And there is the crucial issue of necessary difference. But it is important to note that we never had the debate or discussion of whether it was ever a good idea to have everything in one place as we now do. And as I said, if we were to have the debate, the bias would have always been towards anything that smacks of unity or togetherness, especially since so much of the evil of previous ages appears to us chiefly as a matter of  false or malicious separation, a violation of our essential and underlying unity.

There was much talk, back in the anxiety filled 1990s, when talk of togetherness and community was just getting started, of how the once much needed "differentiation of spheres" had gone too far, resulting in the fragmentation and isolation of spheres and loss of some kind of integrated unity. It appears, however, that ever since we have gone as far as we can in the opposite direction. The values of opacity, of privacy, of exclusion and differentiation have been under the greatest assault. And we have to live with the result.

I digressed into all of this reflection upon technological change because the past two years have been years of wrenching change for me personally, all of it unforeseen and unbidden. (I will not get into public or political change which as we all know is as dramatic, volatile and unstable as you can get). That is, I want to make clear not only that not all change is the same but that change has differing and different meanings depending upon one's stage in life, one's numerical age, one's temperament, one's abilities, customs and a whole host of other quite individualized things. You simply can't make  the word change into a synonym for a kind of normative account of progress.

 I think the day as a society we begin to start from and with the individual, and the individualized profile, will be the day we begin to make collective decisions that allow for real diversity. Given current trends, concerned as they are with conceptualizing human life in terms of large groupings, that day appears far off. We could create a world that works for both the shy and anxious as well as the outgoing and domineering, while reigning in the negative side effects of anybody who goes to the farthest extreme, all the while with compassionate understanding of what are the inevitable temperament and leanings.

Music for me is one of the greatest of the arts, but all the arts share a family resemblance. One of the things I love about music is its abstraction. But that is but one of several possibilities, I think any art form, however troubling the content, especially if the content is troubling, if, to name a prominent example, it is representational about people in less than desirable circumstances, is a means for humans to create a big school for themselves. Art is really this big school, and in this sense no difference whatsoever than what used to go by the name of religion, where, by absorbing or experiencing the art object, you can reflect in a neutral space, a partially disinterested space, and try to figure things out. Whether you see art as a means for increasing knowledge or, in Andrei Tarkovsky's more rigorous, but possibly superior formulation, you see art as increasing preparedness for death and salvation of the soul, such differences of emphasis matter less than the sameness of all art in its almost religious necessity. Art and life are one in that art is an expression of what is going on in our life. Art and life are separate in that art is a time out from life and thus, a meditation upon life.

Well I have said enough I think for this post. Time to write some more music.

More Childhood Memories From the 1970s: the mysteries of human character

My dad in 1977!

I have been thinking about the word moderate and moderation, in reference to the title of my blog. I have also been thinking about writing down some more events from my childhood and adolescence.

It has been far too long - I believe a couple of years in fact - since I wrote in prose form concerning personal matters. There is so much from my childhood and adolescence to pick and, if possible, explore that there is always the question of what my "sensory system" (as one of the ways in which I describe my peculiar temperament) will recall out of the steaming flux.
http://automotivemileposts.com/thunderbirdmileposts70s.html

One of my fondest memories of being with my father is the opportunity to ride around the city of Tampa in a wide bodied red Thunderbird convertible, with sort of bucket seats, a little shag on the floor and a white vinyl top. My favorite part of the convertible was the 8 TRACK and I would create my own mix tapes with music that obsessed me and which I tried in earnest to study and absorb. As one example of a mix tape, one would open with a Bach Bradenburg Concerto, continue with Duke Ellington's Such Sweet Thunder, then a selection of Billy Cobham's Stratus album and finish with some solo piano of Bud Powell. The selections and order reflected my musical interests. And then there were the commercially preset releases of EARTH WIND AND FIRE, Chuck Mangione, Doobie Brothers, Steely Dan and Randy Newman.

 I even loved how the songs would be interrupted abruptly with that violating, screeching sound, because of some technological limitation that couldn't accommodate  pieces of music over a certain duration. Rather than being frustrated with this clearly awful design for music production or distribution, I would laugh about it for its very absurdity, though others around me would not laugh and usually just complain about it ruining the proper flow of the music. I think it is very possible that these ruinous interruptions, disrespectful of the musical artists, to say the least, had an unconscious influence on my own collage styled sense of nonlinear historical and musical time in my own compositions. I think I knew I had an odd sense of humor at this early stage of life.

These were some  unsurpassed happy moments from my childhood.



But there were things far less happy in my childhood and they do somehow connect with the T-BIRD. Another notable thing about the car was the curious man who sold it to my father.  This man was initially a colorful, or "flashy" character to me. He was a used car salesman and the price for this Thunderbird was as low as was possible in those days.

But when he was not working he would come over to the family house, sometimes unannounced and in a state of visible intoxication, swearing graphically and asking rude questions about political or religious matters. My mother always had a very kind way of setting him on his way, usually by calling his wife and asking for her to come get him, yet again.

Mr. Anderson was sort of a figure out of a Michael Ritchie movie. I am thinking of Bruce Dern's Big Bob Freelander character in SMILE. He even wore similar powder blue leisure styled dacron suits, but with wild Quiana prints all over the elephant collared shirts underneath the suits, and the gold chains. Unlike the Big Bob Freelander character, Anderson could be mean, perhaps even sinister.

The last thing I heard about this salesman Mr. Anderson was that he was so incensed and offended by a particular episode of the Phil Donahue Show that he took a semi-automatic rifle and shot out the t.v. set. Immediately after he called the local affiliate and complained that Phil Donahue was an unAmerican communist and that he considered an act of treason for any television station to bring such a host in to the rooms of ordinary and decent Americans.

Shortly after this incident his wife filed for divorce and both people left Tampa, leaving nothing but a For Sale Sign hanging over his used car lot. I really liked Mr. Anderson until I heard about him shooting up that t.v. set. From my point of view he was that flashy salesman who sold my father a really cool car, or something to that effect. It was in the light of new information that I had to reconsider who or what this man really was. This revisionist information was a kind of external sensation - involving destroyed televisions, abused wives, screaming and yelling and the like.

There was something simply wild about Anderson. His form of right-wing excess was and is so common in this country. It was around me all of the time and I grew so completely used to it. It was the most shocking thing in the world to come back East and meet people who were not rabid like that in their passions.  I had no idea there was this moderation because I saw so little of it. People who seemed urbane and laid back. It was not their Liberalism, if that is the correct formulation, that made them different. It was the fact that they did not make a federal case out of everything, or if if they did, it seemed under some kind of rational control. I craved that in my life, as a stay against the instability and volatility I encountered so often in Florida. Today when I read news about this or that extremist conservative movement or politician I am often reminded about these days. Perhaps I was seeing the birth of today's world.

A lot of understanding people really comes from aesthetic signs from the outside. This is what Oscar Wilde really meant when he said that it is only the superficial people who do not judge by appearances. Appearances might include modes of dress, eye movements. body language, speech of course, and patterns of outward behavior over a period of time.

It takes an enormous amount of volatility in feeling, reaction, however you choose to label it and with whatever psychological jargon of the moment, to take a gun and shoot at your t.v. set. Lest you think this was the sole province of a macho male like Mr. Anderson, the girls and women I met in Tampa had a similar volatility, usually about different things and expressed in different styles. If you got any of the religious ones started on a subject dear to their heart: the evils of Abortion for example, (being a common one), you would get screamed at about the issue as if your very own survival depended on whether you believed whatever the party line was.

I remember in particular one woman ranting for an entire hour about the evils of a man who dared to be bare chested in public on the side of a road, and how this man was a symptom of all that was rotten and evil in America. This was during some kind of field trip in the de rigueur wide bodied Buick station wagon with that damned wood panelling on the side. Now the car moved so fast that I don't remember seeing the man at all but I had to hear about him and what he symbolized for the hour. And the woman doing the ranting was the Liberal person in town: she was the head of a high school drama department!

And as I have written about in these personal series before, the behavior of children in some of my Floridian milieu was simply anti-scocial. Or maybe simply a-social. I really couldn't say. One kid threw me overboard in a canoe, causing me to come near death from drowning, only to be rescued by one of the counselors.

Another kid would grab and grope at the intimate anatomy of any girl who happened to be in the vicinity, sometimes in the most vile and aggressive of fashions. He would cause pain and then laugh about it, exposing a mouth with a couple of missing teeth and the worst case of acne you'd ever see and then grab at the crotch of his LEVIS Toughskins. My one attempt to correct him - by essentially beating him up so that he would cease his predations, the only time I ever hit anybody - got me suspended!  Amazingly the school took his side. I did hurt the kid and he had to be taken home that day and well, it practically went to Juvenile Court, or so that was the threat.

I saw kids physically attack their own parents and teachers, throw tantrums of all kinds. Indecent exposure was common, and in a most public fashion, particular with a couple of kids who were severely mentally disturbed. (One myth or cultural assumption of the"free schools" at that time was that you should just throw all sorts of kids in one room together to teach them, under some notion of radical egalitarianism).

One time a man beat his own son in front of me and some neighborhood kids in his trailer park home and we would all sort of watch, only too happy that we were not his children and outside the scope of his wrath. Oddly we never thought to report it or intervene. There was talk that he was taken away by the city and locked up for a very long time and that trailer was vacated.


Coming home, the home of my own mother and father, was always a kind of shelter from the outside world, since my home seemed relatively calm and supportive by contrast. For these I am eternally grateful to my parents, yet I did realize  much later that my own parents had little in common and lived for thirty years in conditions of undiscussed and silent unhappiness in their marriage. And regularly the outside world would intrude and it was never pretty, from religiously fundamentalist relatives, people peddling miracle cures and snake oil of all kinds and many other things that I couldn't begin to five a coherent description but involved lots of matching jumpsuits or jogging suits and sales of dubious motivational self-help books for one cause or another, whether religious or secular.

From the earliest age I had no idea of or illusion about natural, human innocence or any notion of the kind. Human evil and untrustworthiness seemed as much integral to the human animal as any highly touted and advertised kindness.

And the fare at the movie theaters worked in harmony with how life appeared in "reality":


As a result, to this very day, I look askance at human emotion. I recognize that it is often more valuable than thinking, and it sets human souls and spirits upward unto the heights of joy. I could not be a musician or at least the kind that I am without my feelings. Yet emotion just as often sends people crashing downward in a manner that brings everybody in the surrounding environment down with them. I think that many people have the deepest need to impose their beliefs, in essence how they alone experience the world, unto others, utterly blind to the profound differences between us as if by the act of such imposition they will feel less alone or convert others to their system. Having unusual and nonconformist feelings I learned long ago to never hope for such things. Oh I will talk your ear off about my interests, passions, etc. but I don't ever really mean to impose or convert. If there is agreement or harmony I take that as a pleasant surprise or happy accident, in the fashionable formulation of the moment. I am reminded of the George Ramsay quote about which I learned from psychologist Steven Reiss:

"The same difference of feeling and dullness of imagination explain what has often been observed: that one half of mankind pass their lives in wondering at the pursuit of others. Not being able to feel or to fancy the pleasure derived from sources other than their own, they consider the rest of the world as little better than fools, who follow empty baubles. They hug themselves as the only wise, while in truth they are only narrow-minded."

It seems that if people remembered this more than they do the world would vastly improve overnight. It is all part of this myth of consensus, and "getting to yes" and all of that earnest cheerleading that infects everything from TED talks, to current science, to, hell, how we even understand works of art. But that takes us a little further afield for my current purposes and will have to wait for a more appropriate time and place.