Dylan in Springfield is a collision of worlds for me. I first learned to love Dylan while I was a student in Springfield and have lit out for many of his concerts while I still lived there. But this was the first time I’d seen him take a stage in Springfield. So, the highlight of the show? Mostly that it happened in Springfield, my wife’s hometown.
And since we are on the subject of My Wife’s Hometown:
I would have hoped for more selections (and stronger selections) from Together Through Life. He did only two – My Wife’s Hometown and, during the encore, Jolene. What goes through this amazing man’s head, I would like to know? How does a poet with the genius of Dylan ponder the compilation that is Together Through Life and conclude: I think I’ll make My Wife’s Hometown and Jolene staples of my live performances. But, then again, this is the guy who left the timeless Blind Willie McTell off of the Infidels album but reserved a slot for the ridiculous throw-away, Sundown on the Union, among other stinkers.
Happily, the set included more numbers from Modern Times than any other single album: Thunder on the Mountain, Rollin’ and Tumblin‘, Beyond the Horizon, and Nettie Moore. Nettie Moore was significantly re-arranged musically and I heard it with new ears. A song of heartache, despair and paranoia and the fitting and wonderful lyric “I’m beginning to believe what the Scriptures tell,” Nettie Moore always made a strange impression on me. The song is about many things, and I want to keep listening to it for new clues. But, on one level, it seems to be about a hopeless man finding consolation and respite from nihilism in his own dark musings to the ghost of a woman he once loved. The music of the live performance created a strange, foreboding atmosphere and Dylan’s delivery was like all the Shakespearean tragedies packed in and overflowing from a simple folk song.
So that was another highlight.
No songs from the new Christmas album. I wouldn’t have minded that. I love the new Christmas album. My favorite track so far: Must Be Santa, a wonderful, rollicking sing-along that includes, apropos of nothing, a fast-sung list of 20th Century U.S Presidents mixed in rhymingly with reindeer names. I’m not an uncritical Dylan fan, and I’ve read some harsh reviews by reasonable people panning Christmas in the Heart. But I just know I’m going to feel good dusting off these MP3 files once a year each December and basking in their warm, sentimental glow. And who better to sing cheery holiday tunes than an old Jew with the blood of the land in his voice?
As a new homeowner, I am re-reading The Death of Ivan Ilych for interior decorating tips:
He found a delightful house, just the thing both he and his wife had dreamt of. Spacious, lofty reception rooms in the old style, a convenient and dignified study, rooms for his wife and daughter, a study for his son — it might have been specially built for them. Ivan Ilych himself superintended the arrangements, chose the wallpapers, supplemented the furniture (preferably with antiques which he considered particularly comme il faut), and supervised the upholstering. Everything progressed and progressed and approached the ideal he had set himself: even when things were only half completed they exceeded his expectations. He saw what a refined and elegant character, free from vulgarity, it would all have when it was ready. On falling asleep he pictured to himself how the reception room would look. Looking at the yet unfinished drawing room he could see the fireplace, the screen, the what-not, the little chairs dotted here and there, the dishes and plates on the walls, and the bronzes, as they would be when everything was in place…He was particularly successful in finding, and buying cheaply, antiques which gave a particularly aristocratic character to the whole place….All this so absorbed him that his new duties — though he liked his official work –interested him less than he had expected. Sometimes he even had moments of absent-mindedness during the court sessions and would consider whether he should have straight or curved cornices for his curtains. He was so interested in it all that he often did things himself, rearranging the furniture, or rehanging the curtains…the result was charming not only in his eyes but to everyone who saw it.
In reality it was just what is usually seen in the houses of people of moderate means who want to appear rich, and therefore succeed only in resembling others like themselves: there are damasks, dark wood, plants, rugs, and dull and polished bronzes — all the things people of a certain class have in order to resemble other people of that class. His house was so like the others that it would never have been noticed, but to him it all seemed to be quite exceptional.
I want to grow old without the pain/ Give my body back to the earth and not complain.
- The Avett Brother from The Perfect Space
We stood in the heavy rain and the mud at the Crossroads Theater in Kansas City listening to the Avett Brothers. No umbrellas allowed, so we held trashbags over our heads and the Avett’s played on.
I would like to see them again in pleasanter weather or in a higher, drier venue, but I wouldn’t trade the experience of dancing and drinking with my woman in the downpour while exulting in wonderful songs like Laundry Room, Down with the Shine, and Bella Donna.
All three of those songs are included in this Youtube video of NPR’s Tiny Desk Concert Series.
Here is a picture of my new house. This photograph was taken by the home inspector we paid to walk through our house, take pictures like this, make independent and often uncomplimentary observations, and put it all into a less than glowing report about the condition of the house we propose to make our home. The yellow arrow in the picture indicates the place where a leak has been found in the basement from an upstairs bathtub drain.
Fortunately, this photo was taken before final agreements were reached. This discovery and others like it mean that, in the end, the seller will make less off the sale of this house than planned. However, being a homeowner means that, for the first time, I am concerned about what photos like this signify. This is a photo of the entrails of my home and it is not a picture of health.
Would we be buying a house in Harrisonville were it not for the happy arrival of our charming daughter? Probably not. So my favorite photo from the inspection is this one. While the inspector inspected, my daughter scooted about on the floors making her own inspection. Her teething ring made its way into one of the inspector’s photos: a major clue as to the motivation of the buyers.
He lives along day by day, gratifying the desires that occur to him, at one time drinking and listening to the flute, at another downing water and reducing; now practicing gymnastic, and again idling and neglecting everything; and sometimes spending his time as though he were occupied with philosophy. Often he engages in politics and, jumping up, says and does whatever chances to come to him; and if he ever admires any soldiers, he turns in that direction; and if it’s money-makers, in that one. And there is neither order nor necessity in his life, but calling this life sweet, free, and blessed he follows it throughout.
I saw this on The Colbert Report last night and include it for the amusement of my library colleagues.
The library I work for and theotherlibrariesin the Greater Kansas City area have liberal policies in this area. Anyone who walks in the door and can offer proof of an address – any U.S. address – can have a library card. It seems to work well. It particularly advantages Cass and North Kansas City as ours are the smallest among them.
I have worked for Springfield Greene County Library. Unless we could verify a Greene County address, we had to charge a hefty annual fee (the amount the average Greene County resident paid in library property taxes – in the neighborhood of $70, as I recall) or send them packing. Greene County is bordered on the south by a very populous area, northern Christian County. At that time, the fiscally conservative folk that resided in Northern Christian County paid lower property taxes (happy for them) and also – perhaps consequently – had a relatively shitty library system (too bad for them). So I understood the rationale for the SGCL policy: where’s the incentive to tax themselves to improve their own library if they can drive a couple miles and enjoy a state of the art library facility on the backs of Greene County taxpayers? But it was still tough – as someone facing the public – to tell people like this kid, “Sorry, no books for you.”
Update: There are some intersting comments here on this from librarians. Personally, I don’t think there is much of a reason to be thin-skinned about this episode. Sure, the report was unfair to the library’s position and went rather out of it’s way to portray the librarian poorly for laughs. But all things considered, this is some very good press for libraries. For one, our services are portrayed as being valuable and in demand. And the report highlights another important point easily overlooked: that libraries cannot be taken for granted.
I’m half way through the second season of Mad Men. I am near concluding it is better as a family drama than The Sopranos; so far, it has been more consistent. I have not seen an episode or even a story line in it that I would want thrown out. I can’t say that of The Sopranos. I can’t even say that of The Wire which, for me, still holds the title of best show.
This Mad Man clip is from Season 1. Ad man, Don Draper is trying to convince Kodak executives to use nostalgia (or “the pain from an old wound”) to sell their latest technology.
They are just two people and two guitars. But music never gets more exciting than this. I love how their calm, poised expressions are belied by their flying fingers.
"THE most effective tools of US policy in Afghanistan today are the agricultural development teams composed of Army National Guard personnel drawn from places such as my home state of Nebraska," says John Nagl, the former Army lieutenant colonel and counterinsurgency expert, in an article ("The Expeditionary Imperative") in the Wilson Qua […]
So long as we're talking about meat, I might as well link this op-ed by Jonathan Safron Foer arguing that we should all eat dog. Foer is coming out with a book on vegetarianism soon, and though the initial excerpt in the New York Times seemed plodding and banal, this takes more, and more useful, risks: Dogs are wonderful, and in many ways unique. But th […]
"Vicious currents blew through a majority of the material. Violence cast a pall over 'Ain't Talkin',' while a re-imagined 'Just Like a Woman' threw sarcastic daggers. Better still, the scampering 'Highway 61 Revisited' and scathing 'Ballad of a Thin Man' evoked sinister desires."That was excellently […]
Fun People. Randall Terry and fellow anti-abortion protestors staked out congressional staffers this morning with costumes and street theater dramatizing how said staffers will soon be burning in hellfire along with Nancy Pelosi and Harry Reid for supporting health care reform. "The fire hurts!!!" See the video.
A reader writes: The reader who wrote about the banjo should check out the Carolina Chocolate Drops, a string band out of North Carolina that formed after meeting at the 2005 Black Banjo Conference. They gave a rousing concert for a (mostly-white) Minneapolis audience, and also pitched this book, which tells the story of how "Dixie", the anthem of […]
I went to the Bob Dylan concert down in Springfield last month.
No songs from the new Christmas album. I wouldn’t have minded that. I love the new Christmas album. My favorite track so far: Must Be Santa, a wonderful, rollicking sing-along that includes, apropos of nothing, a fast-sung list of 20th Century U.S Presidents mixed in rhymingly with reindeer names. I’m not an uncritical Dylan fan, and I’ve read some harsh reviews by reasonable people panning Christmas in the Heart. But I just know I’m going to feel good dusting off these MP3 files once a year each December and basking in their warm, sentimental glow. And who better to sing cheery holiday tunes than an old Jew with the blood of the land in his voice?
He found a delightful house, just the thing both he and his wife had dreamt of. Spacious, lofty reception rooms in the old style, a convenient and dignified study, rooms for his wife and daughter, a study for his son — it might have been specially built for them. Ivan Ilych himself superintended the arrangements, chose the wallpapers, supplemented the furniture (preferably with antiques which he considered particularly comme il faut), and supervised the upholstering. Everything progressed and progressed and approached the ideal he had set himself: even when things were only half completed they exceeded his expectations. He saw what a refined and elegant character, free from vulgarity, it would all have when it was ready. On falling asleep he pictured to himself how the reception room would look. Looking at the yet unfinished drawing room he could see the fireplace, the screen, the what-not, the little chairs dotted here and there, the dishes and plates on the walls, and the bronzes, as they would be when everything was in place…He was particularly successful in finding, and buying cheaply, antiques which gave a particularly aristocratic character to the whole place….All this so absorbed him that his new duties — though he liked his official work –interested him less than he had expected. Sometimes he even had moments of absent-mindedness during the court sessions and would consider whether he should have straight or curved cornices for his curtains. He was so interested in it all that he often did things himself, rearranging the furniture, or rehanging the curtains…the result was charming not only in his eyes but to everyone who saw it.
Here is a picture of my new house. This photograph was taken by the home inspector we paid to walk through our house, take pictures like this, make independent and often uncomplimentary observations, and put it all into a less than glowing 
Would we be buying a house in Harrisonville were it not for the happy arrival of our charming daughter? Probably not. So my favorite photo from the inspection is this one. While the inspector inspected, my daughter scooted about on the floors making her own inspection. Her teething ring made its way into one of the inspector’s photos: a major clue as to the motivation of the buyers.
He lives along day by day, gratifying the desires that occur to him, at one time drinking and listening to the flute, at another downing water and reducing; now practicing gymnastic, and again idling and neglecting everything; and sometimes spending his time as though he were occupied with philosophy. Often he engages in politics and, jumping up, says and does whatever chances to come to him; and if he ever admires any soldiers, he turns in that direction; and if it’s money-makers, in that one. And there is neither order nor necessity in his life, but calling this life sweet, free, and blessed he follows it throughout.
I saw 
The easy confidence with which I know another man’s religion is folly teaches me to suspect that my own is also.
