Is Jazz Pornography?

To the ignorant who question the idea that "jazz is anything," please question how and why Miles Davis was a musical genius who changed America.  Did he do so by "just doing anything?"  It is an interesting notion, because many people do not understand American jazz music.  Sonny Rollins, one of America's most iconic tenor saxophonists, sums it up admirably.  Jazz might be the stupidest thing anyone ever came up with. The band starts a song, but then everything falls apart and the musicians just play whatever they want for as long they can stand it. People take turns noodling around, and once they run out of ideas and have to stop, the audience claps. I’m getting angry just thinking about it.

Sometimes we would run through the same song over and over again to see if anybody noticed. If someone did, I don’t care.

There was this one time, in 1953 or 1954, when a few guys and I had just finished our last set at Club Carousel, and we were about to pack it in when in walked Bud Powell and Charlie Parker. We must have jammed together for five more hours, right through sunrise. That was the worst day of my life.  As it turns out Mr. Rollins did not actually write this.  When I read this interview in its entirely it had been posted on Facebook.  That of itself should throw up caution flags.  Facebook these days only causes me grief.  I believed the missive that Sonny Rollins felt he had wasted his life playing jazz.  It was credible.  It was credible because I feel the same way.  Fully I understood how someone that does not understand jazz music could make such assumptions.  The reality of jazz music is a polar opposite.  There is a reason whey often it is cited as America's only true art form.  Jazz music at its worst is all of the things stated in the New Yorker's satire.  I know this, because in my tenure working as a pianist on cruise ships I have encountered it time and time again.  We are required to play jazz on the final night of the cruise, and musicians hired to READ music otherwise must "get through" the jazz set.  Often it is heinous.  It is heinous, because without the required education one unequivocally cannot play jazz music.  The ignorant would disagree as do these unskilled jazz players.  They rely upon schmaltz, grandstanding, and masquerading.  I think I have experienced no worse feeling in the world than being demanded to accompany one of these players on a jazz set.  They feel that by being able to make a decent sound on an instrument and by the sheer enjoyment of listening to their own bullshit, they should be considered a credible jazz player.  Ask Miles Davis.  While it did not begin this way the resolution of the musical eighth note shrank.  It shrank into the mindless strum of a guitar.  Without consciously knowing it the guitar created the pop musical genre.  Without realizing that strumming down and then up in rapid succession creates an unrealistic musical spacing, the ignorant grasped the concept as validation for their ignorance at playing jazz.  The new concept, which is the concept of the pop musical genre, is instead of playing strongly and with a discernible rhythm pulse, you "lay down."  Like a dead fish you lay on your back, spread your legs, and get violated.  I watched an entire Mickey Dolenz Monkey's musical show, and it did just this.  Never during the entire show was their a discernible groove.  There never was a pattern or a clave of rhythm that you could understand, subdivide, or feel.  Instead rhythm became a wash of sound.  The melodies and harmonies were being played but devoid of any discernible rhythm.  When I first had the band AC DC I hated them.  It was because they are a pop/rock band.  They masquerade as fury, but when they play their instruments they are tepid.  Pop music has capitalized on this loophole, and it destroyed American popular music.  No longer were you required to have physical skill articulating musical passages.  Simply you turned your amps up, made the synonymous physical gestures, and played as weakly as humanly possible.  This was the goal, because removing musical intent was the only way to glorify the ego of the listener.  I have trouble with this concept.  There is valid pop/rock music.  There are band who use the technique of playing between the kick drum and the snare drum in a lazy, loping, reciprocating feel.  The rest are marauders.  American music has become a congregation of marauders.  Other than this lack of rhythmic integrity or "swing" feeling, jazz marauders actually do not know the songs they are playing.  If they do happen to know the song (or rather its melodic and harmonic progression), they do not know the appropriate scales with which to improvise new melodies.  Melodies and their accompanying chords are finite.  They are tangible.  They are mathematic.  The last thing they are are "jazz is anything I think it is."  "Tunes" or songs comprise the musical vehicles for jazz performance.  These tunes comes in varying styles, most commonly the ballad, the medium-tempo-swing tune, the bossa, the samba, shuffle-funk, and African 12/8.  Only in this area of style or feel could the phrase "jazz is anything" be entertained.  Unluckily purveyors of "Smooth Jazz" have exploited this back door.  They emerged as jazz wanna-be's and decided if you could play with a decent sound on your instrument but actually knew the song and its progression, you could be a musical star.  American jazz never has recovered.  As a former jazz music educator at two major universities, I like to define jazz this way.  "Jazz is swing-oriented improvisation music based upon the American popular song and the twelve bar blues."  The American popular song often uses the form A-A-B-A with the B section being called the song's "bridge."  The Great American Songbook truly is the source for jazz's evolution.  Iconic musical figures such as Miles Davis developed and expanded the content of jazz music.  Three significant contributions made to jazz music by Miles Davis were the invention of "Cool Jazz," "Modal Jazz," and "Jazz Fusion"  Unlike what widely is believed Miles created fusion with two seminal recordings, "In a Silent Way," and "Bitches Brew."  It was not long after Miles 'went electric' that other bands followed.  Most notably is Joe Zawinul's birth child, "Weather Report."  Modal jazz substituted a musical mode for a harmonic chord progression.  Most often it was the Dorian, a musical scale that has its roots in antiquity.  Cool jazz created a contemplative, unhurried, more quiet rendition of songs than Bebop. The essence of jazz is the essence of all real music.  It has definable parameters.  It has a tangible structure consisting of a foundation, its content, and its marketing.  Only a musician mesmerized by the idea that they could masquerade as a great musician could believe that any of these things could be sacrificed.  Contrarily the knowledge and skill it demands to play jazz is significant.  First one must be an accomplished instrumentalist.  Second one must know the repertoire of songs.  Third one must have studied the craft and art of improvisation.  It is a life long process akin to religion.  Spirituality also is involved something we have moved away from in shallow America.  The music that has raped and pillaged America's valid music easily is defined.  It is all of the things real music is not.  It seeks to have no impact on society.  It seeks to be tepid and weak.  It seeks to make no statement.  It seeks NOT to define a principle, opinion, or boundary.  It seeks only to masturbate at the basest human level.  It is pornography.  

The Extinction of American Popular Music

When I was a college teacher I never got much resistance from my students about what I taught.  They believed me, because I was talented as a musician.  Later in life when I was not teaching young people began to question and disagree with things I felt strongly about.  One was the definition of jazz.  As American music has regressed the traditional postulates of a quality music education have been cast aside.  America is fond these days of qualifying her own bullshit.  Just as historical periodicals threw in the towel for better sales, the rest of America has followed.  When Time magazine questions the validity of God on their front cover, we should know something is amiss.  I try to remember that the Holocaust was not really that long ago.  The murderous atrocities of Adolph Hitler still are lukewarm, and they are surrounding us each and every day.  Fascism is ensconced in American society and is being promulgated by the powers at be.  The powers at be in my realization are a younger generation of Americans that missed the school bus.  It seems they were exempt from developing a sound moral conscience, because the ethical standards by which America has stood and thrived have been compromised.  If you abolish Christianity then those ignorant are free to behave as they wish with no regard for their common man.  While I do believe there are such movements in play in our country, ignorance has become a metaphor for these compromised ideals.  Ignorance only can be the cause of the fall of music and television.  As I have begun watching and listening more critically, instead of getting angry I am getting disillusioned.  Music education always has been a liberal art, a collection of disciplines chosen by the ancient Greeks that were deemed crucial to a fulfilling human existence.  We have grown so far away from these liberal arts, that America bears little resemblance to her once glory.  We lead in very little these days.  I can't really think of anything in particular that can be attributed to American ingenuity.  What I have found is my cultural proclivities are matched only by other nationalities.  I find great comfort in the musical works of the Russians.  They, unlike music I hear in America, resonate with me as being vibrant, wise, and visionary.  The Russian Five while rebelling against Tchakovsky's nationalism sought to forge their own musical futures not by adhering to anachronistic dogma but by pushing the limits of music.  Similarly the Second Vienesse School, something of which I never hear about in America, pioneered a new kind of musical expression.  This expression represents an evolution of the human mind and spirit, something of which we know not in America.  We still are stuck in the doldrums of worthless pop fodder with no thought for a rebirth of a once former nation.  It is because we do not care.  I am not sure why everyone seems to have laid down their arms and surrendered. Unquestionably during the tenure of George W. Bush there was an avid campaign of fear and intimidation.  With a lack of emphasis and thus funding of public education, Americans have grown more and more ignorant.  With this ignorance has come a selfishness that belies rational understanding.  How can society expect to provide empathy to those desiring to be ignorant?  Luckily I have been shielded from this movement most of my life.  Only moving back to Fayetteville, North Carolina have I witnessed such an unsettling ignorance.  Just as many Republican pundits have campaigned upon, there is a large active faction of worthless Americans looking for handouts.  How does the city of Fayetteville respond?  It refuses to allow a new manufacturing plant to build here providing hundreds of sorely needed jobs.  Likewise many of the homeless shelters have been closed demanding these citizens live under bridges in the bitter cold.  I take pride in transporting my refuse to the city landfill.  It is like a little adventure having my pick up truck weighed and paying a few dollars to make the city cleaner.  Today the city requires personal vehicles pay a flat twenty dollar fee no matter what the content or quantity of their load.  Twenty dollars to pay to get rid of your garbage?  I refuse, and while I realize it is an attempt to truncate the line of cars at the dump, I do not agree.  That is fascist to charge citizens to unload their garbage.  We should be rewarded with a tax break for being conscientious.  Whether it is possible that the faction of gratuity seekers still is playing the slavery card I am not sure.  Racism like many ills of America have returned to blossom in this new ignorance.  It doesn't matter.  What seems to matter is the more intelligent and thus affluent intend to keep taking advantage of us.  Those with no intelligence are shit out of luck.  Music and television are not helping like they should be.  At their great height in American history both mediums transcended petty selfishness and sought to educate America.  It was demanded.  It was demanded by a generation of purveyors who now rapidly have died.  Journalists, sports commentators, television writers, directors, and musicians have disappeared at a startling rate, and there is no one left to take the reins.  It is frustrating to me because my entire life I have been prepared to take these reins, but there was not opportunity.  Today I feel still there is no opportunity, because opportunity is controlled by politics.  Not only have my mentors moved on to a better place, what is left is ignorance.  It is an ignorance so deep that it is in denial.  Most easily it can be personified by one questioning the definition of jazz music.  Most easily that severe ignorance is expecting there to be no vocation.  "Why must we study music or television to be good at it?  Let just change the rules and pitch it out there, and no one will notice the difference."  One only has to pay attention to a television program to see that there is no concept.  Again the ignorant would say anything goes.  "Why would we need a 'concept' to give our shit meaning?"  Consequently we have shit.  It is due time that the shit is flushed by those knowing the difference.  That is not a panel of celebrities feeling they are qualified to adjudicate musical juries.  That is not untrained actors feeling they are qualified to act.  That is not pretty faces and curvaceous bodies twerking on stage.  There are disciplines, disciplines of television and music production.  Just because the tools of production have been shrunk into a laptop computer does not product create.  One must study the lineage of production that  is your predecessor.  A thorough study of those that came before your own damn self is the first step to enlightenment.  This principle often is cited in criticism of contemporary classical music.  "Does the music refer to anything other than itself, or is it just self indulgent masturbation?"  The personal computer and the internet once groundbreaking  now have succumbed to the shallow capitalism of America.  Once a connected data base of academic institutions, the internet now nurtures prostitution, pornography, and sex trafficking.  Story telling is a lost American art form,  because we do not have time in our days to listen to the toils of others.  We struggle to survive and our existence reflects it.  We are at a low point in American history.  This new ignorance is the simple declaration that American jazz is anything.  If anything seems to work, then it is jazz.  If anything is jazz, than anything is Rock 'n' Roll.  Anything is R&B.  Anything is country music.  Anything is soul music.  Anything is Gospel music.  This anything, the epitome of ignorance, is "pop" music and reality television.  Just as I labored watching an American Sniper live his meager life, I labor watching ignorant faux celebrities trying to entertain.  It is a disgrace, but humiliation has become the new American entertainment.  I first hand was involved in the transformation.  While working professionally as a musician on cruise ships, I watched Karioke usurp live music.  It seems this newer generation of ignorant rather would humiliate themselves for fun rather that watch an artistic band.  Slowly the observation of this humiliation overtook musical quality in cruise shows.  The people no longer were interested in the music.  They just wanted to watch the performers struggle at their jobs, because it was tangible.  It was more tangible than television, because we musicians were paid professionals attempting to do our jobs.  Never have I seen television cameras placed inside a courtroom to observe as a skilled attorney litigates a case.  Never have I seen cameras placed in an operating room to observe a skilled surgeon.  We have been sold out, musicians.  Once an energetic driving force of humanity has been reduced to a few nondescript digital samples of analog waveforms and jungle drums.  They are not even good drums.  

Being a Musician

I can't help it that I am a musician.  I can't help it that I am from the old school.  I don't feel old.  I wish I did.  They say you never really become an adult until your parents are gone.  My reality is at age fifty-two, I have been around long enough to have become extinct.  I'm sure in other places my profession carries on.  I am sure of it, because I have Facebook friends who are musicians.  I moved from Fayetteville, North Carolina to Columbus, Ohio to work on my doctorate of musical arts in composition.  I nearly finished had it not been for the eye disease kerataconus.  I needed cornea transplants in each eye, and I am grateful to be able to see.  My eyes are not what they used to be.  It seems in a college town music always is more active.  I was able to make a living in Columbus playing keyboards for several years.  I was an accomplished jazz pianist, but it is difficult to remember.  Now I am extremely isolated from music.  What I hear on television is most insulting.  I go on about this from time to time.  I'm not sure if I grew up in the golden age of television, but I must have.  I am lucky as the child of baby boomers that my cultural proclivities far are superior compared to the youth of today.  America drastically has changed during the last decade, and it has been for the worst.  I use television as an example, because in its golden age it was artistic.  It set an example for healthy behavior.  Today it is intended to dumb down the population.  Not only have we neglected our system of public education, we are bombarding our viewing citizens with trash.  As a musician I can't help to make value judgements about the quality of music around me.  Television music in particular has suffered the most.  Once it was the pinnacle for aspiring commercial composers.  Today it is an afterthought.  Like America's pop music it does nothing.  It does not inspire, it does not create art, and ironically is does not qualify as being music.  It, like the rest of reality television, fills space. It passes time.  It accomplishes nothing except for making Americans more ignorant.  We are bombarded with trash ruthlessly and without conscience.  Whether it is a conscious decision or the result of a suffering economy, television music is extinct.  What is taking its place is something that is not music.  It is noise.  It is constant droning noise that fills time and space.  Noise creates insensitivity.  We tune it out.  I have found since being back in Fayetteville, North Carlina all of my musical skills have faded because they are not being used.  Also they are not being reinforced.  Rarely if ever do I hear any music on television that qualifies as music.  Music is time organized in rhythm.  Rhythm is what is conspicuously absent from both television and pop music today.  Instead what is used is the lazy and usually drunken motion of a strumming guitarist.  It takes no musical knowledge to strum a guitar, and that motion of ignorance in a clever coup has defeated real music and taken its place.  This ignorance in music I have come to realize is the partner in crime to ignorant reality television.  Music had to be dumbed down or it would upstage the non actors.  When I am blessed to be able to watch and listen to a music video from its golden years, I am shocked by the quality of its sound.  Even when bands are performing live in large arenas surrounded by noisy fans, the pure audio quality  coming from the stage is amazing.  Often I have to do a double take to see if I really am hearing a live performance.  If these vintage videos or any of the Top 100 from history's Billboard charts were to be heard today, it would cement that reality that today's pop music is indeed not real music.  Systematically this is why quality television programming, quality radio music, and music television are buried.  The music industry that is in power today in America wants it that way, because they would not be in power if that comparison ever emerged.  After watching Superbowl number forty-nine this evening, I found all of the terrible shortcomings of cheap film music have made their way onto television.  They really are the same, and that was an infuriating realization.  I have wanted to write film music almost my entire life, and this is what I have to listen to?  I understand I do not have to listen to it, but why must I at age fifty-two give up the entertaining things I have had my entire life?  Is it a right of passage?  Is God trying to tell me something?  I think this is possible.  I have tried feverishly to maintain my professional keyboard rig for the last two years.  It has been difficult.  Only last night after I have programmed its patches three separate times all of this work was lost in what must have been one blast of static electricity.  All of the programs that call up my quality chosen sounds mysteriously vanished.  Instead I got a ROM chip validation that the system was good, and each and every patch that had been named were now INIT.  INIT.  The memory had been initialized.  After scanning the manual for this unit I could find no such parameter in its menus.  Synthesizers of course have this function.  It was unnerving.  Because I know I can re-program the controlling patches, I didn't get angry.  I was dismayed.  Three separate times all ready I have done this trying to keep this rig operational.  The first time the patches were lost by a technician changing its battery.  The second time, lightening struck.  This is the third time.  Because the music industry today is so different than before, the piece of gear I am using to control my rig no longer is manufactured.  They would rather sell you expensive computer gear that does not sound as good.  I am from the old school, and old school is better.  I do not want to carry a laptop computer with me to a gig.  It is expensive, it is a theft temptation, and it is not musical.  I had to take this piece of gear apart and try to find some anomaly.  It seems the battery holder was a little loose, so I bent it with some long-nosed pliers.  I have no way of knowing if this will happen again.  It takes many long hours choosing sounds, setting up MIDI routings, programming patch changes, and naming settings.  I should be good at it by now.  Because I am so disillusioned with music today, I am beginning to think that it is time to draw the chapter of electronic music in my life to a close.  I have over  four hours of contemporary classical piano music that needs publishing.  Why am I wasting my time on this keyboard gear?  The answer is it gives me immense pleasure.  The sounds I create exponentially are better than any sounds you hear today.  The sounds (sound) you hear today completely is hackneyed.  It is a hack.  I'm not sure today if our ignorant youth would even understand what a hack is.  A fake.  They are too worried about being homosexual and mediocre, and it has become the entertainment industry's job to stroke their egos with dribble.  I have little pleasure in my life today.  One major thing that has kept me happy for several years is seen as an enemy today.  Republican businessmen can't make money on skateboarding.  It like art is an uplifting and enlightening sport.  We can't have that, seeing as the sole responsibility of adolescent TV is to be ignorant.  Skateboarding.  Skateboarding creates physical pleasure by allowing the rider to defy gravity.  In Fayetteville, North Carolina our gravity no longer is a virgin.  Our gravity while strong enough to keep our feet on the ground does not seems as strong as the infrasonic waves that beat us everyday.  They are so strong here from air and rail traffic that they can move objects.  This barometric air pressure makes it nearly impossible to surf a wave the traditional way.  It creates its own never-ending wave that like bad television and pop music seizes power over what was good.  America has become overrun with this movement and we are dying as a result of it.  Terrorism in America does not have to be violent.  Slowly and without recognition it is killing our citizens with ease in our own homes.  How can I qualify the ignorance of this non-music?  It is simple.  The motion it uses as a substitute for rhythm is that of a mindless drunken stooge.  It requires no thought.  How is it possible to have music with no thought?  It is because it is not music.  It is noise.  

I didn't finish my thread.  I'm not sure if I can remember it now, a few hours later.  I was talking about the necessity of getting to know a thirty year old house, again.  I didn't really get to know it when I lived here in my youth.  What I am beginning to remember are a few things.  One is I was an avid model railroader.  When we moved into this particular home, it had a double garage.  That was to be my mecca.  After dinner each evening I would retreat to this garage and work on one of two model railroads I built over the four years I was in high school.  There was something sanctuary about this space.  (knowing full well that the word sanctuary is a noun, not an adjective)  The house into which we moved the summer before my freshman year in high school was three stories.  The den and double garage were built on a concrete slab.  I didn't understand the relevance of this then.  Today fully I understand the benefit.  Concrete is solid, therefore our den and garage seem solid. There could be no more perfect place for our vintage Hammond A-100 organ and Leslie 145 than in this den.  The pine paneling creates a favorable listening space.  Perhaps in the future the carpeting should come up revealing the hardwood beneath it and offering more treble response to its sound.  Ironically in the last several months I discovered that termites had made a meal of the exterior wall of this garage.  While there is a brick facade on the outside, the three small windows that provided illumination to this space appeared to be eaten by termites.  Their frames were riddled with hollow gouges painted over many times.  We contracted the same builders who replaced our windows and installed vinyl siding on our upstairs.  They did an admirable job replacing these windows and all of the damaged framing underneath the drywall.  What we got was a pristine looking wall with three gorgeous windows.  Definitely it changed the feel of the garage.  Quickly I covered up that newly insulated wall with my junk.  The positive result was the garage is much more quiet and a bit more temperature controlled.  It still gets cold, but I have found it much easier to work out there with an even temperament.  I can see better, and I am not distracted by the aircraft noise.  Fully I hope this cold winter will dispense with soon.  Even an efficient kerosene heater does not make it appealing to venture there in the cold weather.  I cannot remember this issue when I lived here as an adolescent.  Besides building a train layout in our garage, evidently I spent a fair amount of time on our baby grand piano in the living room.  The only thing I can remember about this is my mother having to set the timer on the stove to see that I practiced thirty minutes a day.  It was brutal.  I didn't really like practicing, yet I became an accomplished classical pianist.  I don't know how really.  I was not a good sight-reader, but over a given period of time I could figure out a piece of music.  I could learn it in my own time frame.  This Knabe baby grand still sits in this same living room, yet I have failed to make peace with it.  Possibly it is because I have been spoiled working on ships performing often on Yamaha C7 seven foot grands.  These particular pianos largely were responsible for my composing output while on ships.  The instrument is so effective, and each note is so clear and strong, all one must do is pick out the pretty notes.  My goal one day is to have one of my own, but not necessarily in the space occupied by this Knabe baby grand owned by my father.  Over the years this piano functioned admirably.  I learned to play the piano solely on this instrument.  Today I cannot bear to play it, because it has been neglected.  More truthfully I cannot bear to play it, because it belongs to my father.  It is his war artifact, and it has served its purpose.  I feel no sentimental connection with it whatsoever.  Instead I enjoy playing my own Yamaha P2 piano in our foyer.  I do have a tangible connection with it, because I  purchased it with my own money.  This money came from the sale of my Roland MKS-20 Super Jupiter synthesizer module.  It was a worthy trade, and other than having a burnt out backlight it was a solidly professional instrument.  It  could use some more creative patches, but that is for its new owner to provide.  I have a limited sentimental connection with our Hammond A-100.  It doesn't feel like mine, again because it was  purchased by my father.  Most things in this house were purchased by my father.  The exceptions are the things that mean the most to me.  While eventually I did inherit our Honda Ct-70h minibike, and I take great pleasure in riding it on the street to this day, I value the two motorcycles I bought myself with my own money.  I guess all things are like this.  Living here again makes me a different person.  It makes me considerably different than who I  am.  It is difficult to remember who this is, because this heritage is overwhelming.  It surrounds me each and every day.  Without meaning to it inundates my soul.  I have difficulty finding my soul at all.  Often it is more comforting to try and remember, yet when I do I feel is loss.  I feel the loss of my father's presence.  I feel the loss of my sister's presence. I feel a loss of most of the positive things I experienced here in this house.  Namely this is the conspicuous absence of my one and only true love.  We have been separated for many years, and it was I ultimately who made this decision.  She agreed with it.  It necessarily is not healthy to forage these memories.  The same couch is in our living room where we necked, but making this connection is not healthy, is it?  It necessarily is not healthy to try to make new memories in this same space.  How am I supposed to live here now with these issues?  Systematically I have organized, cleaned, and separated my father's belongings from my own.  It has taken a lengthy two year period to accomplish such a thing.  I think I have been thoughtful, respectful, and kind.  Still the absence of his things and the inclusion of mine has not made the adjustment easier.  Still it is difficult to dwell here, because it really is not my house.  It is my parents.  

Re-Entry

It seems I am an anomaly.  After having girlfriends almost my entire life, I landed at age fifty-two living with my mother.  I have no children.  I have no wife.  It is uncanny.  I do not know how I ended up in such a state.  Certainly such a situation demands acclimation.  I have come to realize that the majority of adjustment are in environment.  The last time I lived in this particular home was when I was in high school.  It is difficult to look back.  Why would one want to look back over thirty years at one's life then?  Surely after one has lived half a century the soul searching should be completed.  That is what is unique about my situation.  As an adult, a mature adult although often I do not feel mature, I am back living in a similar environment to one while I was attended high school.  There are several major differences.  The most conspicuous are the absence of half of my immediate family.  Because I do not have a wife or children I am speaking of my immediate family.  This consists of my mother, my father, and my sister.  I am living with my mother because my father at age eighty-six needs the care of a nursing home.  He is lucid, but living in a two story home was not an option for either my mother or me.  His move also took some acclimation, but it happened on his part.  No longer does he want to come "home."  Well, not that often.  That acclimation on my part is far from complete, and there is a simple reason for it.  The majority of time I lived in this house, the four year period I attended high school, I was a child.  This home was purchased by my parents, furnished by my parents, and run by my parents.  This provided a certain cushion for my existence.  Never did I have to bond with the house.  My life was focused on my education and more importantly for me my personal life with my girlfriend.  While living here now I have neither.  I have a much broader and far reaching education, and I have had many girlfriends.  Trying to rewrite my own history with this house almost is impossible, but I keep trying.  There only is so much you can do to modernize your environment before it instructs you you have gone to far.  Then I retrace my steps, undo changes I have made, and proceed.  I think once again I am teetering on this brink.  It is difficult to live in a foreign environment, so it is normal to try to make friends.  As in my case this not always is possible.  Some things just can't be changed.  One of them is Fayetteville, North Carolina.  While many things drastically are different here such as the level of education and its inhabitants, the core of Fayetteville remains steadfast.  The same populace that has controlled Fayetteville staunchly sits on top of their old money controlling its purse strings.  There is little room for diversity.  Instead their is a glorification of the military.  In reality this glorification really is just brown nosing.  The old money of Fayetteville has come from the military, and to keep it it requires constant tending.  It gets old, this tending of the military.  There are other things in life.  There are things other than learning how to kill.  There are things other than learning how to be a soldier.  There are things other than the 82nd Airborne.  There are things other than air traffic, rapid troop mobilization, and wars.  During the late l970's the war in Viet Nam had come to a close.  Richard M. Nixon after a long ten year war, decided it was time to stop fighting.  American troops exited Viet Nam and returned to the U.S.  After living through the Viet Nam war during my childhood and a violent junior high school, the peaceful years of Ronald Reagan were welcome.  Probably they and my college years may have been the best years of my life.  Certainly they were the most fun.  We now live in a different time.  Generation X has moved aside and we have a new youthful generation.  Only can I think they must be called Generation 9/11.  As I really begin to pay attention to what is happening in America after twelve years abroad, it is startling.  It is crystal clear what this generation has seen and experienced.  They sexually are ambiguous.  It no longer seems to matter which gender they are.  I am not sure this is what God intended.   What is most striking is their deserved mediocrity.  I see reality show after reality show, and I see shows that must be produced by this newer generation.  They seem to demand an adherence to their own mediocrity.  It is a kind of selfishness that only could some from miseducation.  When one is ignorant one only can demand that the rest of the world be like you, ignorant.  There no longer seems to be a model of success and not financial success.  There no longer seems to be a model of "celebrity."  There no longer is a model of "movie star."  The quality that seems to have existed in American Hollywood since its inception has grown extinct.  Maybe it is an anachronism.  Maybe with global terrorism and extreme Islam the glamor of Hollywood no longer is relevant.  Still there was and is something underneath the glamor of Hollywood.  There was an artistry and sophistication.  There was a class and education that existed much as it has throughout the world's history.  Whether it was in courts of Europe, the studios of Hollywood, or the performing stages of universities a better more artistic life existed.  Slowly we are seeing the extinction of such a thing.  Is it fair that the ignorant demand all mankind regress to their mediocre level?  It is happening, and reality television is not helping.  We in America have become a generation of brown nosers.  We canvass the vote, and then we tend it for our own selfish good.  It truly is a shite state of affairs.  

American Sniper

Again I will say that the recent onslaught of film releases is a bit overwhelming.  Again I will ask how films can be nominated for prizes when they have not been released.  While it seems as if there are some quality films in this recent stew, a staggered period of release would be easier for the consumer to absorb.  It's hype.  What difference does it make?  A film is a film.  Rarely do they lose money.  If they do lose revenue at the box office there are a slew of other platforms for their viewing and subsequent earning.  The first and only movie I have seen in over a year was American Sniper.  I wanted to see a film that was nominated for best picture.  I was disappointed.  As a composer it was unnerving that there was no musical score.  Upon reflection I do understand that this movie is not intended to be mainstream entertainment.  I think we can agree on that.  It is not a documentary either.  If it had been it would have been more entertaining.  American Sniper was far from entertaining.  It was down right boring at times.  I looked at my watch and asked myself why I was being asked to watch such mundane activity.  It I believe was intended to be a real life story, a glimpse of a Navy Seals average ordinary life.  While most of us know that is a contradiction, this is how it came off in the movie.  There was little notoriety about the unusual skills of a Navy Seal.  Instead it seemed like an accurate depiction of the life of a G.I.  It was rote, it was jar-headed, and it was lifeless.  It had to be an conscious decision by the films director and producer to eliminate emotion from their characters.  It is understandable that a tactical warrior operating at that level would be encumbered by feelings.  He was a machine, and watching an emotionless machine for over two hours is not entertaining.  At the end of its expose the viewer is entitled to one short sentence written on the screen explaining that this particular Navy Seal was killed by another war veteran he was trying to help.  One sentence.  It didn't make sense at all.  Possibly that is because his murderer is yet to stand trial.  The trial is scheduled for February.  After two solid hours of inane melodrama with no musical underpinning, suddenly we are expected to break down and feel sympathy over the Seal's death.  It didn't make sense.    Understanding that Bradley Cooper produced this movie could explain these points.  Effective actors are no always effective producers.  I'm sure that Clint Eastwood needed a gig.  I just wish he had been hired to write a score.  

League Deinflation

While the American Soccer scandal mildly may be diverting,  the case of under inflated footballs is moot.  Moot.  Cold air brings compression.  Air recedes, compresses, and decreases when cold.  Your tire pressure will diminish when cold.  Only I know of this because my mother's "under inflated" beacon began to illuminate on her Honda when it got cold.  I was an ass.  I did not take the threat too seriously, but I did vow to check the tire pressure on our three motor vehicles.  I did.  With a small air compressor purchased from Harbor Freight I righted the wrong.  I in the darkness of our driveway did the check the air pressure of our three vehicles on a Tuesday in the cold.  It seems the measure was low.  The thirty pounds-per-square-inch measure severely was under.  The pounds were low.  Thirty was twenty.  Twenty.  Dangeroso.  It took me thirty minutes at least to check the tire pressure in twelve tires, and with a little Harbor Freight air compressor re-fill their cavities with the recommend air pressure.  (Namely thirty pounds)  A Honda, a Toyota, and a Nissan all suffered the same fate.  Ten pounds less of air due to the cold weather.  (Let's say I am like a ship floating off some coast never to be found.  Let's say I am a ship never that will reach a port, if I stay alive)  Remedied pound pressure.  Ten pounds down.  Let's let the NFL live in peace.  Their balls were deflated.  Mine have been for two year.  What I know is when my basketball was deflated at OSU, my basketball skills increased exponentially.  Well not may exponentially but they were way better tendering that heavy sack.  I became a class "A" basketball player one summer,after General Exams swimming each day after not completing the D.M.A. degree in music composition.  It was glorious.  A hoop, asphalt, and a metal backboard.  These were my companions for one glorious summer of non-DMA completion.  I long for the same today.  A "swishing" net, a metal pole, and asphalt turf.  "Slowly I turn....."   

The American Dream, No the American Slave

First I must turn on my deterrent.  It's my desperate attempt at thwarting the effect of the "Allergen Pump."  To be able to see the computer screen clearly, I have to place a fan in my window pointed at CSX-T's mainline less then several miles away.  I turn the fan on exhaust and let it blow to its heart's content.  A fan doesn't have a heart, or a mind, or an intent.  Only it serves its industry.  In this rare case that is an individual.  There is no business involved other than my writing this blog entry or article as they may come to be called.  The canvass upon which I would write is not blank.  It is rife with deterrents.  Cleverly and invisibly my mind and my body are at a disadvantage.  I have to struggle to accomplish the same things I accomplish in other places, because of this deterrent.  It could be difficult to realize the deterrent is arbitrary.  It is the roguish by-product of mass transportation, and this mass transportation rarely involves human beings.  This transportation which effects my life each and every day is transportation of products.  Logistics they call it.  Container shipping.  Never would I know that Fayetteville, North Carolina is a mecca for industry.  Industry?  Nestled along the banks of the polluted swamp water of the Cape Fear River are industries that go unnoticed to the day to day population of Fayetteville.  They are operating incognito.  Hidden.  Stealth.  The by products of these industries are strong.  They pollute our drinking water and they pollute our breathable air.  No one seems to notice other than that the people of Fayetteville die of cancer at a rate much higher than other geographic locations.  Ho hum.  Conspiracy.  It is not a conspiracy, it is the American Dream for some.  It has and it always will be.  America has not changed.  I knew the very minute I graduated from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill I never would make a living in the state of North Carolina.  I never have.  It is not possible, because I failed to learn the political lesson required to become a self-sufficient citizen in our fair state.  It is called brown nosing.  It is called ass kissing.  It is called politics.  Oddly enough all of the wisdom and talent I have accrued during my education is not necessary.  What is necessary is that I fit in with the "In Crowd."  They are in control, because of their old money.  Their money creates the local economy in which I would need to work to make ends meet.  No one is concerned with artistic achievement, excellence, or personal wealth, because that would upset the status quo that has been in existence for centuries.  Truly it is amazing America has not changed since her rocky inception.  While she has fought wars, wars with losses reaching hundreds of thousands of soldiers, still America has not changed.  The Confederacy is alive and well, and they want nothing to do with them Damn Yanks.  I live in this confederacy.  I knew the minute I graduated from UNC-Chapel Hill, there was no way in hell ever I would make a living in the fair state of North Carolina.  That would mean I would have to give up my scholarly and artistic pursuits and learn to kiss ass for a living.  They do it all around me.  People living in this south, exactly like they did a century ago, meet for lunches.  They have dinner parties.  They drink mint julep.  They sit on their porches with one another revering in the notion that they like one another.  It is the most important thing.  The "In Crowd" only is concerned with their own mock happiness created through the admiration of others.  It is not created by the pursuit of things good.  It is not created by the pursuit of things moral.  It is not created by the pursuit of things ethical.  it is not created by the pursuit of things religious.  These would encroach on their practices of making money.  Next to fitting in making money is the next most important requirement for living in the Olde South.  It is not much of an existence.  Actually it makes my stomach turn to lay down, to play dead, or to sacrifice the hunt.  Without the hunt what challenge is left in life?  The "Lost Colony" were not privy to abandoning the hunt.  Even while they acutely were aware of its necessity for their survival in North Carolina, still they perished.  How is it possible that those who are entrenched in the hunt are not flourishing?  It is because the American Dream is dead.  It has been for quite a while.  It used to be profitable for the common man to excel.  Not anymore.  Now it is profitable for the common man to die.  We will try to treat them with our medical establishment.  We will overlook the causes to their diseases and instead treat them with inflated procedures that keep the "In Crowd" in.  We will deny them education.  We will offer them inferior products.  We will pollute the land upon which they live.  America has not changed a bit.  My fight feels every bit the same as a slaves fight for freedom.  It is psychological.  I never could know this oppression, could I?  Yes I could.  Because the slaves now are free does not mean the same struggle does not exist to make a living.  It is the same.  I turn on my deterrent.  My anti "Allergen Pump" meagerly attempts to blow back their fog easily that can envelop my existence.  It has.  It takes every amount of energy and concentration I have to overcome it, because the Republicans are skilled are changing the rules when we are not looking.  They slant the field a little at a time, before we even realize that the ball rolls downward on its on.  We are Capitalist, and this is what capitalism is.  It is not fair.  It is not just.  It is not moral.  It is not ethical.  It is not religious.  It is ruthlessly selfish in its pursuit of monetary gain.  It is like walking in a "Land of Giants" scuffling around the feet of the gods.  They are recalcitrant.  They are misbehaved.  They are unscrupulous, and they are going nowhere.  It is their old money that is our local economic infrastructure.  The American Dream is a grift.  It is a scam.  It hoax.  Do you really believe the "In Crowd" was going to allow you to make your fortune in their briar patch?  

An Assault of Kinesthesia

What is kinesthesia?  Kinesthesia like infrasound is something in which America no longer is interested.  Unlike the l980's when cocaine and its result, exercise and fitness, were popular America today is apathetic.  We want weed.  Because we cannot control and therefore fix our polluted American environment, we retreat.  I myself have learned how to retreat.  I no longer seem to be able to use my own kinesthesia in my favor.  My "mojo" is dormant.  It is hiding, because it knows it cannot win.  The Republicans once again have changed the rules to favor their own game.  The playing field has been tilted, and we as a populace are losing.  Instead we are retreating, trying to find some respite from the pain and suffering.  Why do we deserve to suffer again?  Possible it could be because recent generations of Americans have been spared the tumult that has occurred in other periods of American history.  We have had no Civil War.  We have not had the fight for suffrage.  Still we are battling civil rights.  It is possible we are seeing things of which we have been immune for several decades.  Somehow we as a country side-stepped strife, the strife of the Great Depression, the strife of world wars, and the strife of injustice.  It is hear again.  Only can I think that human solutions must be created by human ideas.  Human ideas come from humanity.  Humanity comes from humans.  The very process of being human or rather being a human  is key.  Humanity traditionally has allowed us to capitalize on the human body and the human mind.  It is a coexistence of both that transcends the human spirit.  Ideas, thoughts, and feelings combine in creativity.  We are rewarded with our senses, and yet also we use them as an impetus for creation.  Today that physical or rather somatic methodology is moot.  No longer do we tap into and rely upon our sensory perceptions, because they are being mangled.  The once clean canvass of our landscape has become so polluted with electricity, sound, and toxins it is a miracle the human race has survived.  Consequently we have become a race of zombies.  It is fitting seeing as this is mainstream American entertainment.  It we continue to fail to reinforce artistic successes in our country, it will not be long before they are forgotten.  We will be burning books like there is no tomorrow.  

Satan's "Land of the Giants"

My ears are ringing.  Especially my left ear is ringing with tinnitus. In the film Conspiracy Val Kilmer clearly through his character Marine Sergeant MacPherson tells the world what causes his tinnitus.  Tinnitus actually is hearing loss, frequencies of hearing loss that somehow are affected by low frequency sound.  When infrasound is present these frequencies of hearing loss "ring" with tinnitus.  I have known this to be true for two reasons.  One is I have had slight hearing loss in my left ear for a while.  Second is because I am sensitive to infrasound.  As a musician it is common knowledge that often we rely upon otoacoustic hearing, hearing that occurs from mechanisms other than our ears.  Most often it is from the skin.  Just as an unborn baby can "hear" music in the womb, we also can translate musical tones into our minds in other ways than actual hearing with the ears.  It is helpful.  When a musician performs most successfully it is likely because they are "playing to the sound."  Playing to the sound is something that was reiterated in the Miles Davis band.  You actually play to the sound you are hearing.  You hear it, and then you manipulate it to create music.  Some way you "get inside the sound."  When I compose at the piano, most successfully at a Yamana C7 grand piano, I am composing to the sound that is coming off the harp.  I am listening and feeling the sound that is created and mixes in the chamber of the grand piano.  I hear it, but also I feel it on my skin.  The combination of these two thing being driven my my musical mind is what allows me successfully to compose.  Many do not know or understand this, and many do not care.  It only is the handful of us that are blessed with this gift also that suffer its curses.  My ears are ringing.  My ears are ringing because there is an intense infrasonic wave bombarding my dwelling.  As I sit perched in a second story corner room protected by new vinyl siding and double-paned windows, the sound wave is so strong it is capable of moving objects.  This phenomenon has been studied and is widely documented.  The effects of infrasound are disturbing at most levels, and I won't reiterate them.  What I will way it this particular infrasound wave is violating my civil rights.  Invisibly it is blurring my vision, causing my joints to ache, and inhibiting my thought process.  In addition to these disconcerting symptoms, it causes my ears to ring.  The ring has gotten louder.  There are a finite group of man made object that create infrasound.  Again no one cares, yet it  is disrupting our society at a level greater than anyone could imagine.  The irony of the situation is because infrasound tangibly can be "felt" in the air by sensitive persons, there are times when I am at war with it.  It is like a selfish, antagonistic, bully that carries on in most cases no matter what I do.  Especially on the weekends it sits in my home controlled by no human.  Endlessly it vomits is mindless soulless message.  It means nothing.  Its only purpose it to support its own industry.  It is a pollutant by product that is unmonitored and unregulated.  Consequently like global warming which finally has been confirmed, we suffer.  The two percent of the time it disappears from my consciousness and my ears, I feel normal.  I feel good.  I feel like I used to feel back in the l980's.  When it is active the other ninety-eight percent of the time, my entire life is disrupted.  Recently the most menacing effect of this rogue sound wave is of an allergen pump.  The south it seems is rife with allergens.  Never before have I been aware of these irritants until I moved back.  What nemesis.  Allergies.  A running nose, watery itchy eyes, and sneezing all are the by products of allergens.  The kicker is an infrasound wave by nature tends to be continuous.  It is created by a machine that is used by man.  The men that use these machines seem to have no respect for their fellow men judging from the infrasound they create.  Unlike air traffic it proliferates twenty-four hours a day.  It is happiest in the late afternoon to the wee hours of the morning.  On the weekends it is continuous.  Often it is not even controlled by a human being.  It is an autopilot.  It just blows and blows and blows.  My eyes burn from the allergens that are being pumped through the air.  My ears ring, and I suffer.  The Allergen Pump.  If media is trying to paint a portrait of extremism in America, there is no need to look past our own economical infrastructure.  Extremism in America infiltrated our economic infrastructure years ago.  Extremism is in the products we are being offered.  It is in our system of health care.  It is in our government.  Rogue violent attacks on our populaces are a mere tip of the iceberg to the extremism that exists today.  The extremism that exists today is the same as it always has been.  It can masquerade as muslim, but it is American.  It is the same wealthy elite that always have ruled America.  By nature they also are invisible, but like infrasound they are potent.  I deal with each on a day to day basis.  The majority of my time is spent "dealing" with these antagonists.  There is the physical antagonist which actually kills our population.  Then there is the psychological antagonist which kills our spirit.  It is both, and their ethnic cleansing seems to be more keen than other countries.  It has been happening for quite some time.  Cancer spreads.  It has prospered.  It is lucrative.  Death is more lucrative than life so it would seem in America.  The Land of the Giants, giants that have been with us since human inception.  They control and they will continue to control by death.  The allergen pump should be turned off.  The results will be surprising, possibly not to the economic structure it supports, but to the rest of American civilization.  

The Analogue Landscape

My eyes are tired of looking at this glaring computer screen.  On the other hand I am so pissed off, that I must vent somehow.  After watching a few movies on the AMC network, I both am happy and sad.  I am happy because I feel some things that are familiar to me. That feeling comes from a variety of stimuli.  Beautiful cinematic images on the screen, effective musical underscoring, creative writing, and craftsman acting all move my emotions, especially when they occur simultaneously.  It is this magical combination that makes a successful film.  As I watched these classic movies from decades gone by, the overt reaction I had was sorrow.  How was I feeling sorrow at the experiencing of those artistic things I just mentioned?  It is because mostly they are extinct.  It seems I have lived long enough, a half a century, to be able to witness a true progression of history and art.  This progression, both a progression and extinction, has happened before.  Most notably the stylistic periods in European music represent a similar progression.  While I did not live in those times, broadly I do understand the changes.  Without living during those changes one never really will never know why and how music expired and excelled.  Certainly they were a direct correlation of the politics of the time.  Wouldn't it be nice to be able to travel back in time and understand how the Renaissance morphed into the Baroque or Rococo?  Still there is much to be understood in music history.  What I do know today is we are at a similar crossroads.  A specific period of American music history is over.  After watching these classic films on AMC blatantly it is obvious.  American music is and never will be the same.  We are on a downward spiral.  It both is disconcerting and completely disappointing to live in such a time.  I have devoted my life to the art of music, and to be stuck in the year 2014 is a nightmare.  At the age of fifty-two now I am able to look back at over half a century of life and observe.  My mojo no longer is active.  Fully I believe it still is potent, but with utterly and absolutely no impetus whatsoever to pursue music it is in seclusion.  It is in seclusion because no longer do I feel joy in the pursuit of music.  I feel loss.  I feel loss as I undoubtedly observe that American music irrefutably is on a downward spiral.  What has caused this decline?  After viewing several of these AMC classic films, it became glaringly obvious.  The marriage of music to drama or rather music to the human condition is over.  No longer it seems does the entertainment industry feel it is profitable to exploit this strong and magical union.  Everything falters with this decision.  Depth of character, interaction, drama, and catharsis all are are stranded on a digital blue screen of stasis.  Without a search and understanding of the human condition represented metaphorically through music, we are a much weaker race.  We are insensitive, selfish, and violent.  We are being deprived of our core human components without even knowing it.  The duality that served this exploration seems no longer to exist.  In musical terms the absence of the leitmotif leaves actors naked on their deserted islands.  Once a knowledgeable and skilled composer would aid the development of a plot and characters at an intimate level.  This intimacy was achieved because analog sound was analogous to analog film and analog emotion.  It was continuous.  It was not separated into manmade samples.  Analog energy is the epitome of God's energy.  It is powerful, continuous, broad, and expressive.  It has not been compressed into a rich man's capsule.  It is vibrant, alive, and free.  The frequencies of sound, visible light, and emotion are uninhibited.  Today that is not the case.  Today this humanity has been sacrificed for an artificial cyber existence.  It has failed.  All of the computer programming in the world cannot represent the beauty of nature.  Natural sound, natural light, and natural feeling can not be represented by digits, pixels, and decimals.  Compression is no the answer to the human condition, and it never has been.  Always it has been expansion.  Expansion of consciousness, expansion of awareness, and expansion of potential.  The twenty-first century only has brought stagnation in art.  The digital realm entered, existed, and failed.  No application, computer program, or operating system can simulate real life, yet as a populace it has been chosen.  It is cheaper.  It is easier.  The human condition is a remnant of its former self.  It is because our land is polluted.  The pristine canvas upon which analog beauty was created now is a poisonous, volatile, and almost fatal landscape.  The rich and powerful are content with social chaos as it only cements their hold on wealth and power.  They sit back and laugh as humans die.  We are in a new Dark Ages, and who knew?  

Hitting the Ground Running Each Morning

I barely can believe my ears.  What?  I said barely could I believe my ears.  What?  My ears.  Are they yelling?  No  Are they burning?  No.  I don't think anyone is talking about me.  My ears.  They are at rest for a change.  I mean a HUGE change.  Where I live each day when I am vaulted awake either it is a humming diesel-electric locomotive sitting on the tracks at 5:30 a.m., a strafing aircraft from a variety of sources, yard maintenance noise, garbage trucks, or barking dogs.  Clearly I have been able to hear them despite having had completely new vinyl windows and siding affixed to our sixty year old house.  What was the culprit?  The culprit was a little window-mounted air conditioner that sat in a window facing downtown Fayetteville.  Through its crevice came these annoying sounds.  It was multifold.  Not only did sound seem to penetrate through the very bowels of the machine itself, also it permeated the thin wood borders fashioned to seal the window shut.  Wood has a R insulation value of 1.  One.  Let me say it again.  One.  To aid the problem I had made styrofoam panels covered with plastic  that were the same size as the wood panels.  They did little good.  Today was the day I chose to remove this pesky noise conduit because the chilling temperatures of winter are upon us.  No longer did I need its back up temperature moderator.  I can open the other window and with a rather efficient hand-mounted dual propeller fan cool the room in a matter of minutes.  The air conditioner had to go.  Who knew the surprising result it would yield.  Today is the first day in many weeks I can look at the computer monitor and see the type clearly.  My all ready hindered eyesight is not being effected more by the waves of low frequency sound coming from CSX-T, the Norfolk and Southern, and the Abereen and Rockfish.  Secondly today is the first day I can hear the classical sounds coming from WCPE radio clearly and uninhibited.  I have been tweaking my antiquated stereo system for months, but until you limit that unwanted interfering infrasound the music will not be clear.  A better term is "unmodulated."  It is a joy, and only can I laugh at the rude dog across the street that barks at me in my closed garage.  I can laugh at the sounds of all those parking automobiles.  I can laugh at those antagonizing helicopters who seem to care little about who they disturb in the course of their work.  I have found from experience that all good things come to and end.  If you celebrate to pompously surely your neighbors will find some way to eliminate your newly found serenity.  I will not hold my breath, but I can say emphatically for two years my personal solace has been breached like a sleeping seven-year-old's buttocks.  Is life supposed to be this difficult?  

Land of the Giants

I'm not sure today what the sentiment is supposed to be like to return to your childhood home.  Recently one of my childhood homes became vacant for the first time since my parents sold it in l978.  It was liberating for me.  It was the first time I could drive up in our old driveway and see for myself how much the same or different my childhood home was.  Overall it was okay.  The seminal markers in the backyard were gone reminding me of a time when my father was in his heyday.  He had built a small log cabin in our other childhood home in Mocksville, North Carolina.  Our backyard was bordered by a small creek that flooded when it rained and then woods.  He felled trees from those woods, debarked them, and proceeded to build me sister and me a playhouse we would enjoy for years to come.  When he found a better job as the band director for Terry Sanford High School in Fayetteville, North Carolina the cabin moved with us.  (?)  How that happened I am not sure.  What I am sure of is how many extraordinary things my father did for me when we were young.  The second was the creation of a Lionel .027 gauge layout in his band room at that very school.  This was my Christmas present, which he built in its entirety before loading it in a rented U Haul trailer and hauling it to this very childhood home.  In the wee hours of the night it made its way out of that trailer and into the screened in porch that still is on the back of that very house.  It was an amazing feat.  Extraordinary.  Reflecting back upon these things it is a little easier to discover whence my talent came.  I can't remember it today.  I have lost whatever "mojo" I once had.  I don't think that entirely is true, but whatever it was it no longer is relevant to America in the year 2014.  For some reason I have arrived at a time in my life where I no longer seem to want the extraordinary.  Instead I want ordinary.  I want down to earth, mundane, almost boring roots in human reality.  I don't want what the current media is pitching.  I don't want want "Fear and Intimidation."  I don't want the "newest thing."  I don't want cutting edge technology.  I don't want new software.  I don't want a new phone.  I don't want a computer in a watch.  All of these things are useless and in due time will become extinct in proportion to their worth.  It is time America moved on from her smoke and mirrors campaign of trying to make money.  Moving money around for a living no longer is a viable option.  Wall Street sealed their own fate with that one.  I harp quite a bit about modern television, because when I grew up American television was a core component of American life.  The weekly television schedule provided a much needed structure in your entertainment life.  Not only did it entertain, it guided our culture.  The things we did, the way we dressed, and what we talked about highly were influenced by television.  Television was different then.  It was good and honest.  It was a reflection of our real lives that amazingly then were real.  We were living life.  We are not living life today.  We are existing.  The whole substructure of American life has been rendered moot.  Why?  The answer is public education.  Once America cared about her youth.  Fully we understood our youth would be the next generation that would lead America.  We educated and began to empower them.  We openly and willingly passed the reigns on to our next generation.  America today, like a ravenous, narcissistic, and immoral animal began feeding on her youth when the economy collapsed.  When the economy moved from family values to accumulated wealth for the rich, then America faltered.  A heel was kicked out one foot of America, and she has not stopped stumbling since.  Until the middle class and their education again becomes important to America, we will not change.  Making America's middle class a focus of attention will be difficult.  It will mean that the rich who are running the country now will have to take a back seat to the common American.  By taking that back seat fully they will understand that an investment is being made in the future of America's economy.  The needs and wants of Americans once again will become the infrastructure of America.  It will not focus on the slave owners.  It will not focus on the Communist leaders.  It will focus on America and her people.  What will need to happen for this to take place?  It is clear our current system of government is failing.  When Congress becomes so constipated that the President needs to evoke executive order to make progress, it is clear that this body of self serving hypocrites needs to be eradicated.  It is interesting that for the first time in my life, America has returned to a previous point in history.  There was a time when these wealthy lawmakers ruled America.  Trusts they were called.  They ruled with an iron hand.  Several extraordinary presidents changed this over the course of time.  Whether anyone knows it or not President Barak Obama with his Attorney General Eric Holder have made more strides against this great machine than any president in recent memory.  The culmination of this judicial juggernaut must be Bank of America's 16.65 billion dollar penalty for selling toxic mortgage-backed securities and other financial instruments leading up to the economic crisis.  The change in philosophy will not come from our federal government.  While Obama and his team are pioneering that fight, the reestablishment of our economy will have to come from those that are holding America's money.  Simply it has to move from dying hands into hands of honest people who once again are willing to invest in the future of America.  The recent generation of the wealthy who began feeding off of her children only can be represented by one image in my mind.  They are like hermaphrodites they posses the sexual organs of both male and female genders.  They and only they can satisfy themselves with no need of others.  This small contingency of rogue bacteria are extinct.  They have eaten all they can eaten with little to no regard for the rest of America.  They have not fertilized.  They have not rotated their crops.  They have not conserved.  Instead of sewing to reap their crops, only have they eaten of the fruit.  It is enlightening in my life to witness such a historical precedent.  While Viet Nam, Korea, the Dessert Storm, and Iraqi Freedom are notable conflicts, while America's attention was focused in the Middle East, extremists infiltrated our political, governmental, and financial systems covertly.  This is where the damage has taken place, and still is.  What will cause this shift in ideology?  The only plausible solution can be a coup.  

The Invisible Devil that Should be Gone

I have been preaching relentlessly about the ills of the rail industry since I discovered them.  Having been a model railroader since my youth, the novelty of trains always has been intriguing.  Although few of my handmade layouts ever functioned well, I persisted in building them until I could not take it any longer.  The best running layouts were an .027 mammoth in our attic on McGougan Road, and a small HO empire in our garage on Westchester Drive.  On these two pikes at least the engines ran.  Electrical continuity made its way from the electrified track to the contacts on the wheels of the model locomotives.  The trains actually ran.  When I switched to the "better " nickel silver flex track, they stopped running reliably.  They would hesitate, lurch, and falter.  After scenicking my last HO layout in that Westchester garage, I tore it down with one fell swoop of the axe.  I couldn't take it that all of that work yielded failure.  The track was coated with some black wet oxidant preventing the electricity from flowing to the wheels of the locomotives.  The trains ran like shit.  The mountainous scenery was something to behold, but with the trains not running it was ridiculous.  This was not the last railroad I built.  My last still sits on its side upright in the same garage.  It ran.  I was determined.  I did use the same kind of track, but I purchased new engines with clean wheels.  In the process my father and I had taken the locomotives back to Hayes Hobby shop.  Gentry Hayes attempted to clean the oxidation off of the wheels in vain.  Even a Dremel mototool with a grinding attachment couldn't loosen this evil substance.  I never knew what caused this failure of fun.  Only decades later working in the same garage did I realize that pollutants from the environment are rampant.  In this area of North Carolina pollutants are rife.  They have gotten worse over the years.  After coming back from abroad for twelve years, it has taken two long years to come to terms with this pollution.  Not only do I have allergies I never have had before, each and every day seems like a battle against the elements.  As a wearer of gas permeable hard contact lenses, life can be a challenge.  Add pine pollen to the list of irritants and suddenly life becomes an epic struggle.  There is one other struggle that occurs daily that should not.  We American people have enough worries.  With the "economic crisis" America finally has become a third world country.  It was inevitable.  Without someone looking after her with moral and ethical integrity, the once great nation of America almost overnight has slid into darkness.  Unguided, unled, and unfed our difficult history has returned with a vengeance.  The list is so inane.  Video games.  Television.  Music.  At one time in our history when Ms. Pack Man, Crazy Climber, and Galaxian drew the nation together in amusement, now we have become a disparate band of rogue outlaws.  One only has to turn on the television set to see its newly conceived agenda.  The programming is so far extreme right it almost is unfathomable.  Without spending millions of dollars researching the programming, only can one say that what is being broadcast on television is not good for the American way.  It is extreme.  Easily we can assign that term to radical Islamist terrorists.  Easily we can assign it to today's television programming.  Easily we can assign it to today's video games.  Music no longer matters, but it still is there confusing the populace like seventy virgins.  With all of this distraction there is one other element that in my opinion is complicating life in America.  Unlike our extreme corporate-produced mass media, this element effects us at an even more intimate level.  In certain ways it defies explanation.  To this day and since I have been raging a war against this pollutant, nary has there been even one news article about its ill effects.  It is because the railroads built America.  Necessarily they deserve a certain amount of respect in the annals of American history.  It is when these institutions with the help of newly developing electrical technology become dangerous that a line must be drawn.  No explanations have been rendered for the numerous mass shootings that have occurred in America other than a probable connection with medications.  If there were another element, an antagonist, a culprit that more directly could effect the human mind then the indecision could be lifted.  What is causing America this undue grief?  After being sick with the flu for four days straight and battling those horrific symptoms, again it has become apparent to me that in addition to our daily challenges the American people have been beset with an unfair foe.  I have been battling it head to head from my bedroom, since this is where I have been resigned. To describe "it" is difficult.  Probably it has not been described in words before.  The effects of infrasound have, but the actual entity itself has not.  In this case it is more than just a low frequency sound wave.  I may be unique, because I have a small amount of hearing loss in my left ear.  Probably this came from playing keyboards sitting in front of a drum set on the Carnival Conquest.  As many military veterans know hearing loss occurs as tinnitus.  As many people do not know, and the well established medical community in America will deny tinnitus is created by infrasound.  When there is a low frequency sound wave present the spectrum of hearing loss rings with tinnitus.  This is how I know when such a phenomenon is present.  I can predict an jet or diesel locomotive before anyone actually can hear it, because my left ear begins to ring.  It took me quite a few years to discover this trick.  Upon moving back to Fayetteville, North Carolina it has been quite upsetting that this occurs a majority of the time, because of the mainline of CSX-T.  Several expensive rail studies have been commissioned by our local government, and all of them have been ignored.  It was discovered twenty-eight freight trains travel through downtown Fayetteville every day. We had almost the same amount, when I lived near this same line in Columbus, Ohio.  It was disturbing then, and it is disturbing now.  It would be difficult to say if I didn't experience the tinnitus if I would notice the other physical invasion.  I would.  It is tangible.  As a lucky soul and talented musician I have been blessed to be a part of the four percent of the population who can sense low frequency sound on their skin.  In addition to this I have been the proud recipient of an iridotomy in my right eye allowing the aqueous humor to freely flow between the anterior and posterior chambers of my eye.  Infrasound pushes on the mucous membrane of my eye and forces the fluid to flow allowing me to perceive its frequency.  These are unwelcome gifts.  While sensitivity to sound is a blessing as a performing musician, conversely trying to survive in what now has become the "Great Void of America" is a huge hindrance.  Almost every aspect of my daily life is predicated by this phenomenon, because of where I live.  This just happens to be less then mile from the CSX-T mainline, and roughly two miles from their Milan switching yard.  Throw in the Aberdeen and Rockfish and Norfolk Southern lines and Fayettenam is one great rail whore.  It never stops.  For four days as I have been convalescing in my bedroom, the sound and vibration from the diesel locomotives has been making my life a living hell.  [sic].  This is where the corporate headquarters of CSX-T, a fortune 500 company pioneered by former Secretary of the United States Treasury John Snow, would break into mocking laughter.  The Interstate Commerce Commission assure we can do whatever the fuck we want, and they do.  Federal oversight agencies and boards have turned a blind cheek when it comes to regulation of America's railroads mainly because we are reliant upon STRACNET for our nation's security.  A study that was commissioned by Fayetteville's local government made two recommendations for rail traffic.  One was to build a direct entry into Ft. Bragg from the CSX mainline necessitating a new bridge be built over Cross Creek.  The other was a new interchange in Pembroke eliminating the same time consuming "back up" method of moving trains from Ft. Bragg To Sunny Point.  
When a two mile military train exits Ft. Bragg it must "back up" on the CSX line that runs down Russell Street before being diverted in the correct direction.  This one line could be an indication of how  unregulated CSX really is.  If this one section of track is the backbone of our national security getting military munitions overseas, then how could it be so neglected?  One only has to walk the section of track for a quarter mile to see its poor maintenance.  It is a travesty really.  Broken ties, uneven ballast, half way driven rail spikes.  It is a mockery of our cutting edge military, and yet it persists.  It persists like the continual invasion of CSX engines breaking power axles regulations and basically doing whatever they please despite the invasion of Fayetteville's citizens.  For four days straight I have sat in a room trying to get well, and my one and only companion has been the continual undulating, humming, and disturbing of diesel locomotives seemingly at large.  It never stops. There is no respite.  I have this sound in my head 24/7, and I think they enjoy it.  

Being Sick

A number of interesting things transpire when one is ill.  There are different stages of being ill.  Later forms of illness may merit a doctor visit or a stay in a hospital.  Usually the initial stages of common illness merit a stay at one's own home.  It is here an individual attempts to weather the storm and convalesce into a normal healthy individual.  Isolation in one's home can be interesting.  Depending upon the number of occupants at one's home the isolation could or could not be beneficial.  I recently have found that this isolation is useful.  When one is ill and not operating at full capacity, life is different.  One's environment becomes paramount in providing a certain amount of comfort to weather the storm.  Because illness means we feel bad it is important to have these thing in place to ease getting well.  Metaphorically we begin to interact with our environment on a much more intimate manner.  Our ability to provide a social perimeter is weakened.  We begin to rely upon our immediate environment to provide us the comforts we may take for granted while we are well.  With this isolation from society it is interesting how the things we have chosen to surround us provide for us in our illness.  Do they reinforce the things that are important to our well being, or do they distract from our chi with superficial distractions?  I always have felt the process of surrounding one's self with life's most important things is paramount.  Eliminating life's distractions, short comings, and disappointments is crucial to beginning to reinforce life's successes.  At this point in history in America there is not much helping anyone advance in their individual lives.  Corporate America has abandoned the common man.  The arts are moot.  It seems our little individual surroundings are all that we have to propel us forward in our lives.  Via America.  We have not changed.  Get what we can get.  In a Socialist society things are different.  People look out for one another, because it is the right thing to do.  People do not look out for one another in America.  In fact people do not matter anymore.  We are indispensable, unusable, and a burden.  This is what America's broken system of education has fostered and for a reason.  It was not without purposeful effort that employees of state and federal government decided to turn a blind eye to corruption and influence.  While they siphoned off their piece of the pie, policies and practices of rule turned a blind eye to the constituency they were created to serve.  This is Capitalism.  Capitalism is a segregating warrior that effectively has stratified America.  When reflecting upon the most influential factors that have unified America through her years of strife, it is disconcerting.  Music has been influential.  Television has been influential.  Diesel railroad freight traffic has not been influential.  Diesel railroad freight traffic has been instrumental in the growth of America as has been its predecessor, steam.  As has happened in the past at particular point of political conversion, the railroads once again have taken precedence over the common man.  For over a decade freight rail traffic has increased as government oversight has decreased.  Catastrophic accidents have begun to occur killing many innocent people.  The Interstate Commerce Commission is standing by their man.  "Freight rail is supreme, especially in transporting that newly harvested oil in North Dakota."  It doesn't matter that those old tanker cars are not certified for hazardous materials.  This only is a minute glimpse of how many of the departments defined in the hierarchy of our federal government casually have looked the other way as private businesses have flourished.  These corporate monopolies have little to do with the day to day well being of the American people.  If I had to make a choice of whether I wanted diesel rail freight to continue, or if I wanted my domicile to once again be healthy, I would choose the later.  I would choose to convalesce in my home without the rude and selfish invasion of sound and electromagnetic wave after wave.  Battling my strain of the flu would pale in comparison to fighting these evil demons.  In fact the majority of the time I feel bad is not from my symptoms of the flu.  It is because they grossly being exaggerated by these massive and consistent infrasound waves.  If I described it figuratively it is like having a little bird standing on your shoulder who never shuts up.  It is a consistent movement, disturbance, and distraction from the zen peacefulness we need every day to heal our bodies and minds from the onslaught of mass media.  I am not sure America ever will recover. 

Unnecessary TEXT, not SEX.

Quite a few things are upon my mind.  The first is in response to posts on social media that are portraying texting automobile deaths.  
My only thought about this is if texting never were invented, these adolescents would not be dead.  It has been reported that texting related deaths now have surpassed alcohol related deaths in automobiles.  Candidly I remember when past North Carolina governor Jim Hunt changed the acronym D.U.I to D.W.I and instated a mandatory two night stay in jail for such an infraction.  Driving while impaired was implemented and overnight the drinking culture at UNC Chapel Hill changed.  The place that consumed more beer per capita in the entire United States quickly had to regroup.  Many years later an almost ridiculous practice now has surpassed alcohol related automobile deaths.  The production and use of alcohol is intertwined with man's history.  Texting is not.  Texting is a novelty, and there is no better novelty to act as a metaphor for the sheer disrespect America has for her young people.  Let's create a lucrative communications device that will kill our young adults.  What was the concept?  Who dropped the ball?  Who exactly was responsible for enacting the proper protocol for this wireless communications invention?  It will not be the first time agencies in our federal government have faltered.  FEMA usually takes most of the blame, but others are guilty for looking the other way.  Was is the responsibility of the Federal Communications Commission to recommend legislation to regulate wireless communications?  If they operate anything like the DOT, the best interest of the American people is not their concern.  What is of concern via corporate America is interstate commerce.  Anything that fuels the economy through very specific corporate channels is their concern.  How it effects the people of America is the absolute last thing on their minds.  People are dying.  People have been dying for a long periods of time, and they are overlooked.  It should raise the bar somewhat that young people needlessly are dying for such a ridiculous thing.  

My Mind is Spinning Like the Wheel of Fortune

Really my mind is spinning, spinning, spinning, and not like the great popular song "Wheel of Fortune."  It is spinning or reeling rather trying to try to avoid the lobs of B.S. that have come my way this month.  Let me clarify.  B.S. or bullshit I should define as "jive."  Let me clarify.  The definition of jive is something that is worthless or more problematic, deceptive.  Satan is deceptive.  He masquerades as goodness but really is evil.  The old adage, "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,"  I have found in my experience to be true.  One must lie in the bed with evil to fight it.  It is tiresome.  Sometimes I just want to be good and kind. I don't want to expend my now limited creativity dealing with evil or more precisely jive competition.  How is "jive" competition different than true competition?  Jive competition knowingly is fake.  A fake is a forgery or a sham.  Professional Wrestling is jive.  It is okay, because they are not hurting anyone with their harmless exhibitions.  Jive is a word that today seems to be defining the music industry.  In a video that is circulating in social media, pop artists are being exposed as lip sync-ers.  I do not have a problem with Madonna or Britney lip syncing.  Their shows are not meant to be vocal extravaganzas.  They are burlesque shows, shows that are meant to titillate sexually.  As a professional musician never have I found sexuality to be component of any music with which I have been involved.  Maybe this is abnormal or unique.  While romance has been at times a crucial concept in music composition and performance, never have I acknowledged that music could be a whore of sexuality.  Music is the breath of God, and to reduce it to a hedonistic vehicle for self gratification would be a sin.  It happens every day.  It has been happening.  I have ignored it.  I know innately never I have been attracted to the music of Motown.  I respect it, but four singing sweating black men do not turn me on.  There only has been one female pop artist that even suggested that sexual arousal was possible from a singer.  That was Shania Twain singing "You're the One."  Listening to that Canadian country brogue whisper in your ear was enough to get your juices flowing.  Her performance was not sexual.  It was intimate and sincere, something that long has left the music industry.  The historical concept of country music long has left country music.  The innate melancholy of traditional country music has been replaced by selfish hedonism.  When traditions in America that have been sincere and earnest become selfish and sexual, then they can be considered "jive."  They are not sincere efforts at producing an art form, something meant to entertain and enlighten.  Let me clarify.  Talent.  What is talent?  Talent doesn't seem to be important any more in the music industry.  Talent once in America was the thing that earned revenue.  It was an element that transcended humanity and crossed over to the spiritual realm.  We all know that the spiritual realm in America has been on the chopping block for a decade.  Radical right wing extremists have tried to exorcise God from every corner of our country.  Consequently tried and true formulas for entertainment and commerce have been rendered impotent.  This is why the economy is floundering in America.  This is why the dollar is weak.  We have no clue about what America is, because she has changed.  It could be said she has changed for the worse.  Was it a good idea to change the rules of the game leaving its players running in circles chasing an invisible rabbit?  I find it troubling trying to figure out the new America.  I find it infuriating dealing with "jive."  Having spent the entirety of my life studying and playing music, it is insulting again and again as a true musician being disrespected by jive.  The rules have been changed, and traditional talent no longer is important in music production.  Again what exactly is talent?  Talent is a transcendent entity that allows the experiences of an artist extemporaneously to manifest themselves as wisdom in a particular medium.  Once this practice of communicating with an audience at an intimate level was the desired vehicle for entertainment.  It almost guaranteed that the show would be a success.  One only has to watch the STAX/Volt Live in Norway DVD  circa 1968 to witness this phenomenon.  There is something happening that to the untrained eye seems inexplicable.  It is only a band and some singers, but.....   The songs they are singing are metaphors for life's experiences.  They communicate almost directly to and from the human soul.  That is why it is called soul music.  America does not have much soul music today.  That is because the rules have changed.  What used to be the cash cow now has been deemed the enemy.  That is because it takes talent to write and perform soul music.  One must possess a soul to engage in it.  A soul.  Let me clarify.  Soul is emotional or intellectual energy or intensity especially as revealed in a work of art or an artistic performance.  Let me clarify.  In short this means a performer or artist must have "something to say."  They must feel an urging to express themselves for some reason.  The reasons for this urge can be diverse, but without this emotional or intellectual energy driving them the product will be lackluster.  Talent comes in when this urge is recognized, a medium is chosen, and a performer seeks to become artistic in their rendering.  They must hone their skills first into craft and then into art.  America is to ADD to have time for this anymore.  It's all about immediate gratification.  Upon coming back to America from over a decade abroad, it is like hitting a brick wall.  The generation that understood and consumed artistic culture almost is extinct.  America's new youth only have learned from MP3's or streaming media.  It is a shite state of affairs.  What is phenomenal about the STAX/Volt revue is that each and every performer on stage is "feeling" the musical flow of energy.  That means that the songs or vehicles of music are well-written, naturally expressive, and have something to say.  They "flow."  The song from beginning to end is a flow of energy that ebbs and flows.  It creates tension and then seeks to release it.  It is a near perfect metaphor for most musical compositions.  There is a beginning and an end and something interesting happens in between.  An analogy can be made with the three great composers of the Classical Era.  In a symphony the piece builds and builds to a climax.  At the climax each would offer an extremely diverse denouement.  Franz Josef Haydn would make a joke.  Ludwig Von Beethoven would dazzle you with his fireworks.  Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart would treat you to the most beautiful entity he could devise.  Good popular music seeks to do the same thing if it is not "jive."  Jive in this context is a non-musical enterprise trying their best to capitalize in the music industry.  They have failed.  It is disheartening to see musicians with integrity become diverted down this road.  Apparently it is easy to sell out.  Let me clarify.  I observed a skilled group of musicians last night completely drop the ball.  It was heinous.  Much like singer and guitarist Dominick Allen, they masqueraded as something else.  They ignored the historical meanings of the songs and made them selfish vehicles for themselves.  They faked it, and it was noticeable.  Not only was it noticeable it was grotesque.  There was not one ounce of music made at this concert. How can I say such a thing with notes flying around all night?  The quintessential flow of energy that is necessary in a musical performance was absent.  Whether it was the arrangements that were lacking or the acoustic of the arena, something did not allow a drop of sincerity to find its way to this concert.  It was "jive" with a capital "J."  It was weak, it was tepid, and it was jive.  Fake.  Deceptive.  I don't really understand how a group of talented musicians can "lay down" like this on the job.  Let me clarify.  The first time I heard an instrumentalist play like this was on a cruise ship.  I had no idea there could be such a musical concept that would allow singers or instrumentalists to blow puffs of air in your ear like a fairy.  All my life musicians have sought to expend energy from their souls by playing out.  The very idea of using music as a vehicle to weaken the fabric of life is unsettling to me.  It is wrong.  Art to does not seek to make you weak.  It seeks to empower you.  God does not seek to make you weak.  He seeks to empower you.  This kind of music is a disgrace, and if professional players need this kind of gratification they should seek it elsewhere.  The field of music is a professional area, and the meek and lowly do not qualify.  It takes gumption to be a musician, not submission.