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Showing posts from October, 2018

A Place, A Sound, An Appreciation

A Place,  A Sound, An Appreciation Thursday, returning home from Khyber Pass Cafe and three pieces performed by Trever Hagen (trumpet) , Miguel Hurtado (drums), Brandon Wozniak (tenor sax) and James Buckley (bass), I sought to extend the vibe.   I succeeded; it is amazing how contemporary A Love Supreme by John Coltrane remains 54 years on.   The Khyber Pass in St. Paul is a jazz club once a week; owner Emel Sherzad leaves the door open and lights on after closing time most Thursdays and invites a series of experimental jazz performers and fans in for something nearly as intimate as performances in a living room.  The place lacks a stage and commercial taint --- it is filled with a presence of invention. Hagen sat cross-legged on the floor, adding quiet touches to the rocking aggressive and complicated pace set by Hurtado.  The lead was passed to Wozniak for a soulful solo. Hagen played his trumpet without a mouthpiece the whole ...

Seeing scary people?

Seeing “Scary” People this Halloween? (After bicycling past the tent and tarp encampments of people without homes in Minneapolis and Saint Paul.) You may have seen him. His eyes are smallish in his face, not likely to look into your own. Shaven, but not clean-shaven. Shirt might have been only half-tucked in. You may have heard him. Mutterings, not understood, but you might sense the passion, no, better said: the deep, deep anxiety. He’d been told to leave his brother’s house, my house, after, among other things, leaving the tea kettle on the burning stove and walking away from the house. He walked and walked, looking for work and stayed at a cheap motel. He might have ended in a tent under the sumac near the Mississippi, or, had he gone the way of many, to the band of “dual diagnosis” (mental health and substance abuse) folks at the “encampments" in Minneapolis and St. Paul. Troubled, but not so troubled that he did not know it; he was assessed at the U ...

Inventions at Pech Merle

Inventions at Pech Merle                                    Penetrating so many secrets, we cease to believe in the unknowable. But there it sits                                     nevertheless, calmly licking its chops. H.L. Mencken              In the caves of Lascaux, I’ve heard, the Aurignacian                 Men and women took leave of the other animals,                 a trauma t hey tried to lessen by painting the animal spirits.                  “No Matter What, and After All, and That Beautiful Word So" Hayden Carruth In southwestern France, in the ...