I am going down an ultra odd time signature, prog rock hole right now. Like, fast! I know that in a week or two I will crave nothing more than some Nick Drake or Flying Burrito Brothers. For the moment, however, when I get a free moment to enjoy music, I've found myself digging into the obscure solo discography of Yes, Genesis and King Crimson members. Today, I discovered this song while listening to Spotify in my classroom on my prep period. I paused it and listened to the intro four times in a row. As the students entered the next period, I cued the tune. They looked at me like I was listening to extraterrestrial jazz. That's because I basically was.
Here is a cut from drummer, Bill Bruford's (Yes, Genesis, King Crimson, U.K.) second album, "One of A Kind." It's like Daft Punk meets George Duke at a Scientology dance party with members of Return To Forever.... only better! My research tells me (because I couldn't figure this stuff out with my own mortal abilities) that each phrase of the intro piece is 19 beats (eighth notes/quavers) composed of a bar of 7, a bar of 7, and a bar of 5. So that's technically 19/8 time. Wowee Zowee!
Never underestimate the power of corporeal politics. Today, hundreds of thousands of people marched through the streets of American cities demanding political action on gun control. In downtown Portland, ME thousands streamed down Congress St. and gathered at City Hall. I was there. It was powerful. When you are united with others in your community, marching, there is an energy -- a sense of unstoppable momentum. It is also reassuring. We are not alone in standing up to the insanity. We are one. I am inspired by the Americans (especially the women and young people) who have once again discovered the power of peaceful, non-violent protest. If we continue to march in these numbers, politicians will hear us. The continuing volume of our chants and rhythm of our marching feet, knocking at their door, will remind them to legislate on behalf of us -- the people. All of the money in the world can't pay back the moral deficit and heal the wounded conscience of NRA-backed legislators...
Jules & The Polar Bears is one of those bands that you want to like, but continue to remain on the fence about even after a decade of failed listens. Recently, I've been sampling bands from the late 70s and early 80s who released fake new wave albums -- major label acts who played middle of the road rock, but disguised it in skinny ties, brightly colored sweaters and catchy, Cars-y keyboard riffs. Jules & The Polar Bears are a good example. Their first record, 1978's Got No Breeding, was compared to Dylan, The Kinks and Springsteen. Personally, I hear a quirky Jackson Browne in the songwriting. Everything sounds bearded and mid-tempo, except Jules Shear, the singer. He gives the band a distinct sound with his "singing at the top of my range" yelp. But even with Shears' interesting squelch, the songs never break out of 70s rock conformity. The guitarist's resemblance to a member of Orleans or Doobie Brothers is telling. Enter 1979's "Fenêt...
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