Here's the way Steve and Emily should make their wedding entrance

If watching this doesn't make you feel good, maybe I don't want to know you!

Injustice at the Hall!

Ok, not really. But more about that later.

Great trip to Cleveland this week to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Nathaniel and his friend Pete Holohan made what they describe as their first sojourn there (of course, counting on that time in the future when they themselves will be inducted).

We started off things right with a Monday night visit to Progressive Field (f/k/a Jacobs Field, or "the Jake"). A short walk from our hotel room, we settled into some great seats right behind home plate. Pete treated us to burgers and waffle fries (well, he slipped me the cash later, but I had to fork over the actual $$ to the concessionaire because I bought a cold frosty one). The Indians were playing the White Sox, and there were quite a few Sox fans (good thing, it wasn't very crowded there, by St. Louis standards). Just the day before, the Indians and Cardinals had made a trade, swapping everyday player Mark DeRosa for reliever Chris Perez and a player to be named later. From the Indians' perspective, the other player better be named sooner rather than later.

Perez entered for the Indians in the top of the 9th, with the Tribe trailing 2-0. He hit the first batter in the head (had to be removed from the game). Then he hit the second batter in the head. Then he walked the bases loaded. They left him in for some inexplicable reason. He got a couple of outs, but along the way coughed up three. Then wild-pitched in the fourth. As he left with two outs and the Tribe down 6-0, he was lustily booed off the field. Then of course Cleveland plated 3 in the bottom of the ninth, which would have been enough to win the game (pre-Perez). Oh well. We had fun--we certainly didn't care! We did notice the ridiculousness of that crazy mascot Cleveland has.

Then on to the main event Tuesday--a short walk in the other direction was the RRHF. It's a really cool building designed by architect I.M. Pei. The streets have giant Fender Stratocaster sculptures to lead the way and whet the appetite. A modest Michael Jackson figure was in front of the hall, where people had laid little mementos, but there was no real MJ memorial set up yet (I'm sure it will come).

We entered and Pete and Nathaniel posed for the obligatory entry photo (forgot to check it out at the end--just now remembered--I was going to spring for the photo this time). You can't take photos inside the hall (bummer!), but it was the right tone from the beginning. Before you enter the exhibitions and get your wristband, there is a neat display of guitars, with about six Jerry Garcia guitars (these boys are real Dead-Heads, so that got them going), a Kurt Cobain guitar, and a Jimi Hendrix guitar, among others. (I don't think they were as impressed as I was with the Johnny Cash and Chet Atkins guitars there, but oh well.)

Then we parted ways and I let the boys ramble and explore. We'd bump into each other periodically and exchange the "did you see" this or that conversations, and then go to respectively check out what the other party recommended. I think they particularly enjoyed seeing the original lyric sheet for Hendrix's Purple Haze, Jeff Beck's well-worn Telecaster:

and the signature display (instead of plaques, like the baseball Hall of Fame, the inductees have their signature on a wall in the induction hall; the signatures are white against a black background and the lighting is quite cool). Pete and Nathaniel violated the no picture rule once, telling me they couldn't resist getting their picture beside the display of the little statuette the inductees receive when they get in. That was neat.

But the "injustice" they marveled at (2 really) was that neither Nirvana nor the Red Hot Chili Peppers had been inducted. There was a big Springsteen thing going on ("two whole floors to Bruce Springsteen?!?!" they said, "but no Nirvana??? Metallica is in but not the Peppers??"). The rules of induction are that you are not eligible until 25 years after your first record release. My dispassionate pleas to them that, they probably are right on the cusp of those numbers, don't worry, they'll get in, was not enough for these boys. Then we hit the gift shop. They were very reserved shoppers, opting mainly for some cool posters (the Who and the Grateful Dead for Nathaniel).

A late afternoon swim, then dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe, which itself had some pretty darn cool memorabilia. We googled Nirvana and the Red Hot Chili Peppers and found the dates of their first releases, and when we found they were almost, but not quite, at 25 years, I think they felt more reassured. That, and getting their picture taken next to Jimi Hendrix's purple pants, which were on display at the restaurant.

A lazy day on Wednesday, sleeping in, trotting briefly down to the Science Center, then on the plane back, and voila, what a trip. Thanks to the Holohan family for taking us to the airport and then feeding us pizza on our return. Really one of the best parts of the trip was the "debriefing"--the boys are great, well-suited for each other, but VERY quiet (they retired to their room (we had a pretty large suite that worked out nicely, I slept on the fold out couch in the main room), and I looked in to see what they were doing and they were reading books!!). But it was so great to hear them just buzzing about the whole trip to Faith and Michael, Pete's mom and dad.

Bad dad--I also suggested a return trip (senior trip, anyone?) to the induction ceremonies in a few years. The clips they had of those ceremonies looked pretty darn cool! (Prince jamming on While My Guitar Gently Weeps with Tom Petty? C'mon!)

Rock and Roll Hall of Fame

Monday is the big adventure to Cleveland--Monday night at Cleveland Indians game, then Tuesday to Rock and Roll Hall of Fame with Nathaniel. We'll be going with his friend Pete. Looking forward to it!

Good Weekend

Happy that my Uncle Dick made it through his difficult surgery this weekend! Also, it was great seeing family. We all were so happy he made it through the surgery - we couldn't even "see past it" to imagine enjoying each other's company, but it was great. Steve and Barb hosted several family meals and they were all delicious and fun. Then we went to a ballgame today (Mom, Nathaniel, Steve and I)--bad outcome, but fun at the old ballyard nonetheless. And Tom got a chance to come by Hammerstone's, and I know he enjoyed it.

Nice weekend!

How about a little TLC?

Ever tell a friend to go get a nice bath? How about a nice chemical bath?

Well, I just did this week. Heck, I even agreed to pay for it.

I've known this friend since I was nine; met her in 1973. She was very dear to me, and I had a wonderful relationship with her through high school. She was my old stand-by. My first love, in a way.

"She" is my first horn, my beginning Conn cornet. She was squirreled away in my parents' garage for many years after I went to college and graduated to "finer" horns. But a few years back I got her out and she sounded pretty good. Real darn good, actually. So she came back to St. Louis.

I took her in to the wizard of St. Louis horn repair men, Bill Meyers. Blind Willie turned me on to him and he did a marvelous job with my 1979 Bach Strad (30-year birthday coming up in the fall--we'll have to have a celebration at Hammerstone's). Legend has it, according to Willie, that Bill Meyers once worked on Freddie Hubbard's trumpet, which had never been cleaned and was purportedly in terrible shape. I think the look of shock on Bill's face when I showed him the Strad several months back in its deplorable state must have been the same as when he saw Freddie's horn. (Hey, I've always fantasized about being called the second coming of Freddie Hubbard--I'll take what I can get!)

And who helps Bill out with his magic? Brian "Big B" Casserly of course. Brian sidled up to the counter with interest when I was dropping the horn off (in fact, he sort of edged Bill out of the way). They were looking at her lovingly, knowingly, like a dear friend we were all trying to do right by ("Look at the way the tuning slide curves under!" "Nice big bore!" "Oh, that's a Japanese manufacture" "I'm guessing 1960s, maybe 50s on that?" Brian noted. "Oh, no," Bill chimed in, "Got to be mid-70s, right Rob?" "Yep, she was new when I got 'er in '73" I said. "Oh yeah, look at that serial number, '70s for sure" said Brian.)

She'll be ready next week, and I can't wait to take her down and show her off on the Wednesday jazz jam session. Love a cornet sound--not a trumpet, not a flugel, but it's own wonderful sound. You just play different on a cornet--they horn makes you play different ideas.

Good to see you again, girl--enjoy that chemical bath!

One more thought on Bobby Jindal

There is one thing I never hear discussed about a particular passage Bobby Jindal's speech responding to President Obama's joint Congressional address last week that has been bothering me. The principal theme of the speech was that "Americans can do anything", but the federal government cannot, is inept, is incompetent, or should generally "get out of our way," etc. Bill Maher tonight made the point that this is a false dichotomy, that we (Americans) are the government. Without the government building roads, bridges, electrical grids, enacting sensible regulations to keep us safe etc., none of what "we" accomplish is impossible.

But the specific thing that jumped out at me was the passage near the end of the speech, when Jindal cites a laundry list of what "we" Americans have accomplished:

"Don't let anyone tell you that America's best days are behind her. This is the nation that cast off the scourge of slavery, overcame the Great Depression, prevailed in two World Wars, won the struggle for civil rights, defeated the Soviet menace, and responded with determined courage to the attacks of September 11, 2001. "

In every example he cites, the a federal government was, by far, the principle actor, if not in some cases almost the exclusive actor (and certainly the dominant one). So how can someone get away with railing against the federal government holding "us" back, saying "Americans" can achieve anything, then cite as evidence only federal government-led actions. I guess you can make the point that there was significant non-governmental activity in some or most of those achievements (the private actions of Martin Luther King's non-violent protest campaign), but anyone who has had remedial civics (let alone a state governor and former Congressman) should know by heart the role federal government played in all of these things.

Monday was a Fun-day

After a long day at work, I stopped by the Broadway Oyster Bar before heading home. The Voodoo drummer, Kirk Gryce, is the Soulard Blues Band's drummer, and Kirk and SBB hold forth every Monday night at the BOB. I don't know if it is officially a jam session but they treat it as such, at least with folks they know. I wanted to show support for Kirk--Mondays are generally a tough slog after Sundays at Hammerstones--Kirk never mentions it, but you can tell he truly likes when his buddies show up.

A lot of familiar faces were there--Jimmy Stevens, a great alto player, and as well as the Voodoo's own Raul. The Soulard Blues Band's personnel has shifted over the years, but now is pretty regularly Kirk, Art Dwyer on bass and Tom Maloney on guitar, with another rotating player. I thought Matt Murdick (keyboard) was going to be there (that's what Kirk thought Sunday), but Matt apparently couldn't make it, so they called in trumpet player Brian "Big B" Casserly.

And boy what a treat. Brian used to be a mainstay of the SBB, but has developed his own career, principally with a group called Cornet Chop Suey, as well as the Big Bamou. He is a wonderful singer and an incredible trumpet player. He has got that style down pat. And they were inside (not on the roofed over patio), which meant it was a mellower sound. Brian plays a wonderful Selmer trumpet, with a big, buttery sound. He is the best blues trumpet player in town in my book. Jim's comment to me after a particularly memorable solo: "He doesn't suck." (If you haven't, go out and hear Brian some time.)

I was reluctant to sit in, but the fellas were having none of it. I'd never played with Brian, and he'd never heard me play before. At most we'd had a few quick conversations and I'd mentioned I was a trumpet player too--and he gave me that look ("Oh, isn't that niiice")--I don't say it with any mean-spirited-ness toward Brian (I've given that look many a time too, and I can spot it a mile away--hey I would've given me the same look!). It was nice, no blasting away, but some very fun ensemble playing. I felt good in that I played a couple of tunes then made it clear I'd had fun and was skedaddling off the stage and Brian said very gently but sincerely, "Where you going, man? Stay up here until you have to go." (Didn't hurt that it was a small crowd--felt like we were all just playing for our mutual pleasure.) Trumpet players don't often "play nice" with each other, but this was a true exception. I popped off some serviceable solos (and even some good ones) and was enjoying watching Brian work his magic (and learning--I was glued to those fingerings up close and I'll be copying some of those licks come Sunday). John Wolfe stopped in with his new E flat alto trombone and it was just a gas, especially when Raul also came up.

Fun playing with friends.