Cutting the cord

No, I'm not talking about getting a wireless bass rig (although that's a good idea).

June sent me an article recently entitled The Plug-in Drug, which very sternly indicts TV as a negative influence in our lives. Until recently, I probably would have said, "Yeah, it's terrible, all right," and then plopped down to watch a couple more hours. But our own recent experience with TV was very enlightening.

Shortly before Christmas last year, our TV died. It made a screaming sound and the screen went black. June and I decided that rather than just throwing it away and getting a new TV, we would have it repaired. Yes, it is still possible to get a busted TV repaired. We located a local shop and left it there, with an agreement that if the repair estimate were more than $200, we would replace rather than repair.

The estimate was right around $200, but due to the holidays and a scarce part required for the repair, it would take a couple of weeks to get the TV back. We were disappointed that we would miss the Grinch, Charlie Brown, and It's a Wonderful Life, but we accepted it. Then the shop botched the repair, so it was another couple of weeks without TV.

But something interesting happened. Just before the TV died, I had set up an inexpensive -- but good quality -- sound system for June's laptop. She could sit in her recliner, plug in the sound system, and we could listen to internet radio, CDs, or downloaded MP3 files. So while the TV was absent from our living room, we listened to music, talked, read books, and soon we found that we did not miss the TV much at all. June missed watching her weekend cooking shows, and I missed a few comedy things like The Daily Show. But with each passing day, we grew more accepting of the new rhythms and ambiance of our household.

We did finally get the TV back. I hooked all the cables up and tested it, then we closed the doors on its cabinet. Most days we do not watch it at all. June still watches her weekend cooking shows (I encourage this because I'm the primary beneficiary of it!). I like to watch a movie once in a while. But the spell has been broken. We've kicked. Internet music was our methadone, I guess. We now approach the TV with some mindfulness. TV news - both national and local - is not only deceitful, but relentlessly stupid. We don't miss it at all. We get a broader idea of current events by reading multiple sources online. Even the weather reports online are at least as accurate and certainly more timely than what we got on the local news.

Of course, we also try to approach our internet use with similar mindfulness. No single source of information can give you everything.

So, our withdrawal from TV addiction was accidental, and unintended. I wish I could say that we made a conscious decision to do it, but we did not. Like junkies who washed up on a deserted beach after a shipwreck, we had no choice to but to purge the toxin from our systems. But we are much happier and, I think, healthier now.

Spreebate!

What will you do with your spreebate? I'm talking about the "economic stimulus" checks that will be set out later in the year. The administration hopes we'll all go on a big shopping spree and keep the economy from tanking. Let's see, I could get some new Thomastik-Infeld bass strings, maybe upgrade my Sibelius notation program, get some blue suede shoes...

But mostly, I just like saying spreebate.

Paul Bass's albums are now online

I created a web page for the solo keyboard albums of Paul Bass this week. He was such a fine keyboardist and improvisor -- I want to help his music to live on to whatever extent I can.

Paul's web page is http://www.stevepinkston.com/paulbass.html

You'll also find links to other downloads on that page.

I still have lots and lots of music to upload, I just have to get around to actually doing it!

Welcome, 2008!

Well, 2007 is finally over, and I hope my medical woes are, too. I am finally starting to regain some strength and stamina. Anyone who knows me could hardly believe the description of me as frail, but that has been as good a word as any for the past month or so.

My New Year's Resolution is to never, ever have my gall bladder removed again. I'm pretty sure I can stick to it.

I finally got fed up with the poor performance and non-existent customer service at Yahoo/Geocities, so I switched my website over to a new host, 1&1. The new homepage is:

http://www.stevepinkston.com

I also got the domain http://www.fin-de-mundo.com which goes to the same place.

I may eventually move all my e-mail there, but for now, everything else is the same.

One fun thing about the new host is that I get a lot more space and monthly transfer allowance. I plan to post a lot of music -- both new and old -- on the website. Stay tuned!

Still alive!

Well, I seem to have survived my surgery, although last weekend I wasn't entirely sure that would be the case. The first few days after surgery were a little rough, but they gave me good pain medications (whee), and June took great care of me -- I really did very little for about five days.

June gave me a terrific book to read during my recovery: Musicophilia, by Oliver Sacks. I highly recommend checking it out -- Dr. Sacks is a great storyteller, and all of the stories are about how the brain is related to music.

Seven days after surgery I went back to work. I was really feeling OK. Not much pain, mentally clear, good energy. Then on the tenth day post-operative, I had a setback. Without going into too much detail (nothing like an "organ recital" to make people stop reading), I got very sick, and spent a very unhappy weekend flat on my back. I'm OK now, and going back to work, but I have had to cancel all gigs and other activities for the rest of the year.

Work on the CD is on hiatus as well, at least until after the first of the year. I am so looking forward to completing this CD!

Photos from the August 11th recording session

My friend Peter Uchytil is a terrific photographer. I invited him to take some shots at our recent recording session at East2West Studios in Clackamas.

You can see the entire set of color and b&w photos at Pete's Flickr page:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/shinyobject/collections/72157601590760651/

Here are a few shots I like from the session:

R.I.P. Gerard Lock

We lost another member of the Portland jazz community last month. Gerard "Gerry" Lock, a very talented young bassist, was found dead in his apartment. This was totally unexpected and a shock to all who knew and made music with him.

Gerry played with a local group called the Groove Collective, and was a frequent performer at local jams. Last night, a number of his friends and colleagues raised a glass and played some music in his memory at the regular Thursday night jazz jam at Proper Eats in St. Johns. It was a very sweet evening. I got to sit in and play Gerry's 6-string bass for a few numbers, and I spent some time talking to Gerry's uncle, who had flown in.

I first heard Gerry at one of the jam sessions sponsored by Portland Jazz Jams at the Fireside Coffee Lodge a couple of years ago. I was impressed by his pocket playing and his soloing when he sat in. Many bassists fall back on clichéd licks and phrases when soloing, and I sometimes play a little game of humming their solos along with them. Not so with Gerry. His solos were always fresh and inventive. One of the imperatives for any jazz musician is to develop a distinctive personal "voice," and to my ears, Gerry was well on his way to achieving that.

Bassists are an interesting lot. Who chooses this instrument as the vessel for their creative urge? Certainly the upright bass is an unlikely choice for a youngster selecting an instrument -- it's big and unwieldy, with thick strings that will raise blisters on your hands should you try to coax more than a few notes out of it. There's no place to put it in the house where it's not an obstacle to navigation or -- for those with pets -- a magnet for urination. At least you can tuck a bass guitar into a closet.

While I'm not big on sports metaphors, I have heard it said that the bass player is like the third-baseman of jazz. Nobody pays a heck of a lot of attention to you -- unless you're not there. One advantage of playing the bass is that every band needs a bassist (I don't want any emails from B3 players, OK? I know you can do without us), but the disadvantage is that most bands don't need more than one. This means that we dig each other's work from a distance. At a jam session, we sit in one at a time. We never get the experience that horn players and guitarists get -- of jamming with someone else who plays your same instrument. When we tell non-musicians that we play the bass, often they have no clue what that means. Most of us have had the experience of playing a recording and explaining to our spouse or lover, "Now that part there -- doom, da-doom-doom, doom -- that's the bass. That's what I do." I think there is a kind of a bond, perhaps a brotherhood, that bassists feel for each other. We'll never be in a band together or even play music together, but we just kind understand.

We lost Gerry too early; he was in his 30s, I think. Like so many bassists, he left before the third set. I think of Scott LaFaro, Jimmie Blanton, Jaco, Mingus. Gerry joins them now, but he'll just have to wait for his turn to sit in.

Memories of Greensburg, Kansas

I've been very affected by the recent devastation in Greensburg, Kansas. Although it's been many years since I've lived in Kansas, I felt a kinship with the folks I saw on TV, who had lost so much.

I have a memory of Greensburg that was triggered by this event. In the 60s, when we traveled around the midwest with bands, we'd look for the odd roadside attractions to liven up the trip. Prairie Dog Town, the Big Ball of Twine, and of course The Big Well in Greensburg was a must-stop.

I remember stopping at the Big Well one time on the way back from a gig. We bought some junk in the gift shoppe: The singer bought one of those giant novelty "Texas" cigars that's a foot long and three inches across. One of the other guys bought a rubber snake. Then we just HAD to go down in the well. Yes, you could go down to the bottom on rickety wooden steps.

We got down to the bottom and decided it would be funny to throw the rubber snake into the water. It wasn't as funny as we thought it would be, since it sank instead of floating. Then the singer decided to fire up that huge stogie. Oh, my god, what a stench! It was like burning chicken feathers in a rubber boot. The well filled with thick, acrid smoke and we could hardly see or breathe. We beat it up the stairs as fast as we could, stepping on each other's heels and laughing and choking all the way, but the smoke seemed to follow us up. Then I saw that the singer still had the stogie going! I yelled at him to get rid of it and he reluctantly tossed it into the water.

That rubber snake is probably still down there in the bottom of the well.

Aerial Photos of Greensburg

Greensburg's Website

LV's Jazz Brunch is no more

All good things must come to an end, it seems, and the management at LV's Uptown has informed Ted Clifford that they are canceling the Sunday Jazz Brunch -- at least the live music part of it. Ted and I have enjoyed this gig very much over the past few months, and LV's management has assured us that this is a business decision and not a reflection on our music.

I am disappointed, of course, but this is how it goes in the music business. We are now free to accept other gigs, and I'll keep you all informed of upcoming appearances.

Thank you for your support, and for supporting live jazz in Portland!

A Musician Story...

St Peter is welcoming new arrivals at the Gate.

A guy walks up and Peter says, "Welcome to Heaven. What did you do for a living on Earth?"

The guy says "I was a carpenter".

"Very good", says St Peter, "Go right on in".

Next guy walks up and Peter says, "Welcome to Heaven. What did you do for a living on Earth?"

The guy says "I was a doctor".

"Excellent", says St Peter, "Go right on in".

Next guy walks up and Peter says, "Welcome to Heaven. What did you do for a living on Earth?"

The guy says "I was a musician".

"Great!", says St Peter, "Just go around the back and you'll see a door next to the dumpster that'll get you through to the kitchen....".