Kenny Smith | A remarkable thing happens …

The Thunder Song

I’m going to share this video and one or two from the encore and that’ll be it. So you like Guster and enjoy these, or you won’t have to deal with it for another day or two.

This one has acting and a song. It’s a musical! It’s bad acting, possibly deliberately so. It’s a comically, deliberately bad song. It’s possible that it is a deliberately bad musical.

Maybe this is the sort of comedy that requires familiarity with the subject matter to land. Maybe it works on it’s own, I dunno. But the Thunder God, Brian Rosenworcel, chews up the scenery every chance he gets, so trust me, it’s funny.

And if you think that this video being at the top of the post says something about the day, you’re correct! I spent the whole thing reading the first assignments of the semester. Nine down, 67 to go!

Doesn’t seem like so much when I say it like that, he thought, foolishly.

I did have my first ride in the better part of a week. I’ve been fighting a mild case of the sinuses since last Wednesday night. I’ve had much more annoying experiences with it in the past. This, even at it’s most frustrating with the late night coughing and the ragged sleeping, wasn’t all that bad. I have a lifetime of experience in this area, and I am familiar with the pattern. Yesterday, bowing to the onslaught of those little vitamin C supplements and regular doses of antihistamines and the liberal use of cough drops, my sinuses gave up. By Thursday or Friday this will all be forgotten. This evening, for the first time, it didn’t feel like the worst idea to hang my head over handlebars for an hour or so.

Which let me see the lighthouse.

Also, one of the problems of my sinuses are a bit of fatigue. Between that and poor sleep, who wants to ride a bike? I suppose I could have, but, I mean, who wants to ride a bike in their basement when they’re 33 percent sick?

Anyway, 22 miles, one big climb. I thought about doing more, but I was happy to be done. And tomorrow maybe I’ll try again.

Monday / music / photo / Rowan / video — No comments
27
Jan 25

Luke is Joe, until he finally gets to play himself

I’m not going to upload the whole Guster concert we saw Friday night, but there are maybe two or three other little bits I want to highlight. This was the beginning of their second version of the “We Also Have Eras Tour.” We saw them on the first leg of this tour, last march in Baltimore. We also saw them last May in a live radio concert. Obviously we were going to see them again. We’ve now seen the boys from Tufts three times in the last 10 months. I can’t wait to see them again.

This one takes a little context. Which I guess is perfect and confusing since the silly conceit of this tour is they are acting (to critical acclaim) their life story. So, context. Guster started, in 1991, as a three piece, guitarists Ryan Miller and Adam Gardner and percussionist Brian Rosenworcel, the Thunder God. In 2003 Joe Pisapia, a multi-instrumentalist, songwriter and producer joined the band. He stayed in the group, and added a lot, until he left to play in k.d. lang’s band in 2010. So, at this point in the concert, they’re in that period. But Pisapia isn’t there. The part of Joe Pisapia is played by Luke Reynolds, who joined the band when Pisapia departed. When he first comes on stage in this show, he’s holding a giant picture of Pisapia over his face. He wears a name tag that says “Joe” on it during that part of the show. It’s dorky and tongue-in-cheek and great. Everyone is in on the joke.

So this is Reynolds, with the banjo, playing as Pisapia. He and Miller are pretending to re-enact the creation of one of their most popular numbers and, because of the magic of show business, it comes together for us here fully formed. This is “Jesus on the Radio,” which is always referenced on March 16th, since March 16th figures into the song.

Only, there’s a lot going on here in this particular performance. Reynolds is obviously losing his voice. It’s January. Miller knows it. The sound person knows it. Most people in the crowd probably didn’t catch this, but I heard it: Miller picks up some of the slack and the booth made some quick adjustments to their mic levels. And then when Gardner joins in, they change the layering in the chorus. This is all done on the fly.

Let’s check in on the cats, who have entered another noir era for this week’s installment of the site’s most popular feature.

Phoebe was catching a nice little nap in the 1 o’clock hour.

Same spot, a few days later, and almost down to the minute, I found Poseidon doing the same thing.

So, clearly, I’m the one with the routine.

(Bonus point for you if you see Phoebe in the background.)

In class today I demonstrated that the students don’t want me lecturing all semester. I did this by … lecturing for a full class session. Today we talked about globalization, and the history of cities, and a little about how each helps the other. And this will get us started down our path for the semester. A path that, I hope, they’ll lead the way on, conversationally.

The class was great today. A third or more of them were chipper and chiming right in. A few others sprinkled in some ideas, as well. Next week, we start talking about media and culture. And then we’re off to the races, examining various kinds of media from different places around the world.

I hope it all works out half as well as I’ve imagined it. In the the imagined version, a few students who took the class as a pure elective tell me they’ve been so inspired that they’ve changed their major. Others say they’ve had a vote and decided I am the Cool Professor. They’ll tell me this class was gas. That I left no crumbs. I will accept the gesture, but politely decline the gift they’ve all chipped in for. And, besides, being the Cool Professor is a great honor. It’ll go on my vita, I tell them. Right at the top, in fact. Instead, of a gift, just tell all of your friends about the class. And they do. And, eventually, it becomes so popular that they have to move it into one of those giant auditorium settings. Each semester it grows, becomes more intriguing, and more innovative. And then one day, a former student from this class comes back, now a cross-cultural pioneer in some as yet unrealized medium, and they guest lecture in the course. They say it started for them, right here. And they feel so indebted that they still want to give me that gift. By then, my career is winding down and I’ve become so popular that accepting a gift doesn’t seem problematic anymore. I figure maybe they’re going to give me a new prototype of their newest technological innovation. Or make a sizable donation to the university in my name, and my name goes on a building somewhere. But, then, my former student and now friend and global media pioneer says, No, the alumnus says. In 2025 we bought you a granola bar. And I’ve held onto it since then. Here it is, your 20-year-old thank you.

So, yeah, if it works out half as well as that, I’d be pleased.

After class I completed the impossible and Herculean task of putting office hours on the office door.

And then I went to the UPS store. Now there’s a tale …

I walked in because I had to return some poster frames I bought. I had to return the poster frames because I bought the wrong size poster frames. I need 24 x 32 and I bought 18 x 24. Not an original story.

I walked into the UPS store bracing myself for a line, because some part of my brain just thought it’d be like the USPS. But let me tell you, there was no one in the UPS store. When I opened the door the bell rang or the ding donged or whatever, and one of the guys came out of the back.

What can I do for you, boss?

This is now the second person that’s called me boss in the last 72 hours.

“I need to return this box and I’m sure you can tell me what to do from there.”

He has by then picked up his scanner, punched three buttons he hits dozens of times a day and scans the code I have shown him on my phone. His printer spits out a label faster than the sound from the scanner dies in the room. Seriously, you could still hear an “ep” and he had the thing in his hand.

OK, he said.

“It still has the label on the — ”

I’ll cover it with this one. Have a great day, boss.

And that was that.

So then I went to a gas station. Now there’s a tale! I’m going to save that one for another day.

adventures / memories / music / photo / video — No comments
24
Jan 25

We saw The We Also Have Eras show

After a day of email and committee meetings and the like, we went across the river for an evening of frivolity.

We met up with my two-godsisters-in-law (just go with it) and one of their husbands for dinner. We found ourselves in a nice Italian steakhouse themed place with the sort of ambient lighting that suggests a fine establishment. The music suggests you are an extra in a brat pack movie. The waiter suggested a high end experience. The big screen beside our table played … Fight Club … for some reason.

Because just before the appetizers get put on the table, you want that scene about stealing medical waste to make soap.

After the dinner-and-a-movie, we went down the street to see a rock ‘n’ roll show. Guster was in town, kicking off the second leg of their “We Also Have Eras” tour. We saw them on the first leg of this tour, last march in Baltimore. Obviously we were going to see them again. We also saw them last May. We’ve seen the boys from Tufts three times in the last 10 months. I can’t wait to see them again.

One of the best things about the “We Also Have Eras” tour is the comically bad acting. (They’re playing at making a stage production of the life of the band. It’s amusing, and awkwardly so. Also, they play up the awkward for more amusement.) But they’re also playing stuff that they’d semi-retired. Released in 1998, this was Guster’s first radio hit, breaking into the Billboard Modern Rock chart and introducing us to their second album. The fabled 99X in Atlanta (which is BACK!?) (apparently it is BACK!) was a big part of their early success. The late Sean Demery was the music director and afternoon drive jock and I tuned in everyday, via RealPlayer, and discovered all kinds of new acts. Between what Demery was doing in Atlanta and what Dave Rossi and Scott Register was doing in Birmingham and what music was doing everywhere, it was a great time to be looking for new stuff.

I digress, but they, and this, were a big part of the soundtrack of 1998.

I was glad to see some people remembered to bring ping pong balls.

There was a banner, just off to the right, that someone laid over the mezzanine railing. It figures into 2003’s “Come Down Stairs and Say Hello,” though the lyric is obviously mangled for the moment.

I didn’t see it, but someone said when they actually played that song (because it is a show about eras) the person with the sign dropped in the correct lyrics, Be calm, be brave, it’ll be OK.

And here we are after the show. Shivering in the air for another dose of neon. It was 19 degrees.

We’ll see them again in March. Four shows in just 367 days!

music / photo / Re-Listening / Thursday / video — No comments
23
Jan 25

Re-Listening: Not sure if rhythm or all the vocalists

The front of our house faces to the northwest.

Excuse me, I have started typing and a cat has interrupted.

Thirty-four minutes later I am reminded why I sometimes struggle to get things done. And he only moved after I had a little coughing fit, because I am getting a sinus-head-cold-thing.

But after 20 minutes, he started snoring, which is always kind of cute.

Anyway, the front door faces to the northwest. If you’re standing on the porch, the driveway is to your right. We have something of an oversized driveway. It seems that, at least for a time, the previous owners had an RV. So there’s a spot for that. It’d be great for additional parking, if we knew that many people. We don’t. What it is, right now, is extra cement to shovel. Or slip and fall on. (I’m fine.) Or ignore. And that’s what we’ve learned to do. After the first snow here I paid attention to the tire tracks and saw the part that isn’t important for getting into or out of the driveway and garage. And I’m not shoveling that part.

It’s on the northeast side, almost east-northeast. And this is how it looks four days after the snow and in constant subfreezing temperatures.

Which is also the answer I found earlier today when I asked myself, Why haven’t I been outside in a while?

It’s stupidly cold. And I have a temperature rule. That’s why.

We’ll hit the low 40s to start next week, though.

We haven’t visiting the Re-Listening project lately, which means I’m behind again, which means we’ll rush through some more records. The purpose of the Re-Listening project is that I am playing all of my old CDs in the car, in the order in which I acquired them. It’s a lot of fun and a lot of nostalgia. And a lot of good music. I figured I could pad the site out and write about it here, and so that’s what I’ve been irregularly doing. And boy, has it been irregular. I don’t think we’ve done a CD since November. Then, I was listening to music I picked up in 2006 or 2007.

I’ve started a new CD book now, however. And I think I’ve done this out of order. It doesn’t matter. But it matters to me. Which means it matters not at all.

The year, then, is 2001 or so. Or maybe 1998. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I guess I have to re-frame the whole project. I’m re-listening to the CDs mostly in the order in which I acquired them, more or less.

I’m sure I had this on a cassette, originally, since it came out in 1992 and the first time I heard this song on the radio, or MTV or wherever it was, I knew this was something I had to hear more of.

Which was pretty odd for a kid being steeped in everything Seattle exported.

But these guys from Chicago put out a big sound full of rock, soul, and rhythm and blues. And it was fantastic. It still is.

So imagine my surprise the first time the tape got to the third song. My utter delight, looking at the faux wood grained stereo, those big hip high speakers with the black foam covers, when these sounds came out of it. Every sound is perfect.

But the real treat in the record, then as now, is the sheer variety. The styles, the singers, the vibes, all of it. Every tack is a story all it’s own.

Also, the vocals. All these people have these hugely powerful voices. It’s also been a great singalong. And I do always wonder, when it does float to the top this way or that, how it disappears for big chunks of time.

A song I was just singing while washing the dishes.

Sonia Dada toured at least a few continents, released four more studio albums and a live album before they broke up in 2005. Not bad for a bunch of guys that started singing in the subway. Sadly, I don’t have any of their other records, but they’ve been added to the list.

The next time we get back to the Re-Listening project, which won’t take two months, we’ll hear from a pair of north Georgia boys.

journalism / photo / Rowan / Wednesday — Comments Off
22
Jan 25

First day of class

The first installment of the new class, International Media, went … OK. It’s syllabus day, which is an easy day, but also tedious. You just talk about the class in a meta way, and little is conveyed in terms of knowledge or thoughts challenged. But don’t you know they know where the various policies are in this 10 page document. They know what they’re getting into, at least.

And what they are getting into is a newly designed course. And my first class that will be taught in 75 minute sessions. The last two years I’ve been online, or leading three-hour classes. I have to figure out what 75 minutes feels like. I apologized preemptively for these sorts of rough spots.

At least there’s a clock in the back of the room. Except I realized, that’s not a clock. It’s a timer. (For public speaking classes, I guess.) I noticed that at the last moment, and managed to get everyone out with a moment or two to spare. So it’s a new class for me. A brand new course design. It’s being held in a time block with which I must get reacquainted. And it takes place in a room I’d never even seen until I walked into the room after the previous class filed out.

We made it out together.

Now we’ll see how many of them come back on Monday!

I stuck around the office for a few hours to do some work, and then set out for the drug store on the way home. I shopped for, not drugs, but vitamins. And I saw this sunset on the last chilly leg of the drive.

My suit got a compliment today, so at least I did that part right. Now I just have to iron for the twice-weekly meetings between now and May.

So as not to dive too deeply into the minutiae, The Washington Post is dying of a thousand self-inflicted paper cuts. They begged off running endorsements before the election. Some of their stellar newsroom members have left in protest of that, and some other things. The tenor is really changing in that venerable old newsroom. And no less than a 40-year veteran of the place, a Pulitzer Prize winner, was publicly critical of a recent editorial they published. These are all the by products of choices they’ve made, either at the hand of the new boss or the insistence of the owner, one of the oligarchs presently prostrating himself before the president.

Funnily, Jeff Bezos came up in passing after class today. It was one of those questions a student asked on the way out the door. It was a simple answer, one the student didn’t know, and that’s perfectly fine. Not everyone knows the things you know. But in that class they’ll learn a few of them. And we’ll probably wind up talking about Bezos and the Post. I’ll try to pretend not to be disappointed in the venerable old rag when we do.

But, then, I saw this ad as an interstitial ad on one of their stories. And, friends, I can tell you a whole table full of their sales and marketing people sat down together and wrote this nonsense.

Right after that I saw the first mentions of the indefinite pauses to the NIH process. This is important, important stuff. It’s difficult to state how vital the NIH grants become to local economies, to the fields they fund, and to the scholarship they help create. And we just … stopped them today. Even if you wanted to start the panels back up next week, even if you did it without change — and you know that won’t be the case — we’ll have done some real damage to the whole system. A system which is, in fact, one of those things we run better than just about anyone else in the world.

This isn’t just some small nonsense we’re talking about. Some colleague(s) at my current employer are working with some NIH grants on various small business grants. I don’t know the details, but it’s likely some scientific entrepreneurial enterprises. I looked up the grants at one of my alma maters. These are the departments that benefited from NIH money in fiscal year 2025 at UAB.

For FY 2024 UAB received $334,417,936 from 612 awards. This is critical money as states continue to cut back on university funding and administrators and scholars are forced to find their financial support elsewhere, as in these previous reliable grants. You wonder, now, how rickety the whole higher educational system is.

Not that that medical research is a worthwhile reason to maintain a sense of urgency or continuity. Not that there are patients around the country desperately trying newly developed techniques or therapies or medicines that might stem from those grants. Not that people around the world benefit from them daily. If you’d like to approach this from a strict dollars and cents perspective, by all means. NIH reports that for each dollar they dole out, it turns into almost $2.50 in terms of economic activity support. That chart also represents a few hundred jobs from highly skilled experts. Who knows if it is too early to worry about a brain drain, but hamstringing specialists and experts is certainly a dangerous strategy.

The largest beneficiary of NIH grants in FY 2024 was the famed Johns Hopkins in Baltimore, which earned 1,512 grants that totaled $857,947,550. Most of that, $821 million or so, goes into all of the amazing research they do there. You know, cutting edge Johns Hopkins.

What could possibly go wrong?