I have just spent the morning od-ing on MSNBC reports and analysis of the 9.0 Japan earthquake and resultant tsunami. As wrenching as are the videos of the tsunami and as alarming as are the videos of the Tokyo buildings swaying, the most frightening thing about the entire event is the possibility of nuclear power plant melt down.
In the sixties and seventies, there was a robust anti-nuclear movement in this country that did not succeed in preventing the building of numerous nuclear power plants. At the most, the movement's efforts resulted in somewhat increased safety measures. The near-disaster at Three Mile Island brought renewed concern but no decomissioning or even prohibition of further plants. Even Chernobyl did not stop the building of nuclear power plants.
Now comes the Japan earthquake and tsunami and again the possibility of nuclear disaster. I feel compelled to quote at some length the Leon Rosselson song (written in the sixties or seventies) which parodied the apologists for nuclear power:
"There's no cause for alarm, there's really no cause for alarm.
It's clearly safe, clean and cheap. All sensible people know it can't do any harm.
For the facts have been collated and the figures calculated,
And the risks evaluated and the findings validated,
And our experts vindicated for they've clearly demonstrated
That the dangers to the public have been much exaggerated.
So stay cool and stay calm, for there is no cause for alarm!"
It's a long song (Rosselson has never been noted for restraint!) and it's hard to find. It's not on YouTube, but I did find one site that allowed me to play it free: www.myspace.com/leonrosselson
After scrolling WAY down, you can find the song on the album Perspectives. I think the current situation justifies the trouble it takes to listen to this Cassandra-esque song in its entirety.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Jazz, Jazz Brunch!
Long ago, but not so very far away, I met the wonder that is jazz. Earlier, in the beginning 70's in Geneva, I had met ragtime, which I think had prepared my music soul for jazz.
Late in the 70's I was working three days a week and doing very little during the other two days except exactly what I wished. One day I was sunbathing in Riverside Park when a very muscular young man on a bike stopped near me. We struck up a conversation and the upshot was a date. He took me to hear the Billy Taylor trio on the Jazzmobile at 125th Street. Dear Reader, I was hooked!
As who wouldn't be hooked on Billy Taylor, that glorious gladiator of the ivories? Playing with him that day, as on many subsequent days was Victor Gaskin, the most wonderful bassist I have ever heard. Instantly I became a Billy Taylor groupie, later following the trio around as they played in various venues all over the city.
One such venue was a pier in South Street Seaport, where there were often free concerts. I'm not sure, but I think that's the first (and most transcendent) time I heard Billy Taylor play "I Wish I Knew How it Would Feel to be Free." So beautiful, this song speaks to many, many people around the world, and it spoke to me. I did indeed wish I knew how it would feel to be free; Gloria Gaynor helped with "I Will Survive."
My date also took me to hear Dizzy Gillespie, Dexter Gordon and Alberta Hunter. Although I can't remember his name, I'd certainly like to thank him for the introductions and wish him well.
I continued to follow the Jazzmobile around, hearing Chick Corea, Max Roach, Sun Ra, Tito Puente and Art Blakey, among others. Regrettably, responsibilities -- family, political, work -- soon separated me from this fun obsession.
Years later, a friend's son's school held a fundraiser with Billy Taylor as the main attraction; of course we went. Happy and secure now, I listened to Dr. Taylor (who was about 88) play so beautifully that I spent most of the concert with tears in my eyes. After it was over, I gathered my courage to go up and tell him what he and his music had meant to me. He was so gracious that he thanked me!
How lucky have I been to have heard all these jazz greats?
And now how lucky am I now that a friend, Carol Levin, sings jazz? We went to her jazz brunch this afternoon in Brooklyn (at a lovely little venue called Puppet's Jazz Club, Fifth Avenue between 11th and 12th). The brunch celebrated, among other things, her partner/husband Murray's birthday. And the ensemble included the marvelous Barry Kornhauser on cello. I cannot say enough about the musicianship of this wonderful fellow, whose trajectory I have followed for many years. It's great that Carol has joined forces with Barry and others. The group seemed to meld more and more as the afternoon went on. It was such so enjoyable that we're anxious to do it again soon!
Late in the 70's I was working three days a week and doing very little during the other two days except exactly what I wished. One day I was sunbathing in Riverside Park when a very muscular young man on a bike stopped near me. We struck up a conversation and the upshot was a date. He took me to hear the Billy Taylor trio on the Jazzmobile at 125th Street. Dear Reader, I was hooked!
As who wouldn't be hooked on Billy Taylor, that glorious gladiator of the ivories? Playing with him that day, as on many subsequent days was Victor Gaskin, the most wonderful bassist I have ever heard. Instantly I became a Billy Taylor groupie, later following the trio around as they played in various venues all over the city.
One such venue was a pier in South Street Seaport, where there were often free concerts. I'm not sure, but I think that's the first (and most transcendent) time I heard Billy Taylor play "I Wish I Knew How it Would Feel to be Free." So beautiful, this song speaks to many, many people around the world, and it spoke to me. I did indeed wish I knew how it would feel to be free; Gloria Gaynor helped with "I Will Survive."
My date also took me to hear Dizzy Gillespie, Dexter Gordon and Alberta Hunter. Although I can't remember his name, I'd certainly like to thank him for the introductions and wish him well.
I continued to follow the Jazzmobile around, hearing Chick Corea, Max Roach, Sun Ra, Tito Puente and Art Blakey, among others. Regrettably, responsibilities -- family, political, work -- soon separated me from this fun obsession.
Years later, a friend's son's school held a fundraiser with Billy Taylor as the main attraction; of course we went. Happy and secure now, I listened to Dr. Taylor (who was about 88) play so beautifully that I spent most of the concert with tears in my eyes. After it was over, I gathered my courage to go up and tell him what he and his music had meant to me. He was so gracious that he thanked me!
How lucky have I been to have heard all these jazz greats?
And now how lucky am I now that a friend, Carol Levin, sings jazz? We went to her jazz brunch this afternoon in Brooklyn (at a lovely little venue called Puppet's Jazz Club, Fifth Avenue between 11th and 12th). The brunch celebrated, among other things, her partner/husband Murray's birthday. And the ensemble included the marvelous Barry Kornhauser on cello. I cannot say enough about the musicianship of this wonderful fellow, whose trajectory I have followed for many years. It's great that Carol has joined forces with Barry and others. The group seemed to meld more and more as the afternoon went on. It was such so enjoyable that we're anxious to do it again soon!
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