Put another nickel in

What’s your favorite venue for seeing live music?

That would have to be Circle of Friends Coffeehouse in Franklin, MA. The sound there has always been excellent, and that, to me, is the most important criterion. The crowd is always friendly, plenty of people who know each other but never unwelcoming to new people, and they don’t talk during the music but do respond to the performers. The space is comfortable enough, sightlines are generally acceptable, tickets are reasonable, there’s plenty of parking, restrooms are clean, so there’s no particular drawbacks to the venue if you don’t mind general admission. There’s an amazing selection of affordable desserts available before shows and during intermission, but not enough beverage selection (mostly coffee, water, or tea).

A close second would be the Sunday brunch at Tryst in Arlington, MA, only because they have a jazz trio that I absolutely love paired with a phenomenally good chef and pastry chef and a comfortable space. Normally I’d really prefer to separate live music from food service, but the combination works there.

I’ve seen live music at venues ranging from my living room (Ken Batts) to Madison Square Garden (Paul Simon). I almost always prefer smaller venues, as long as there is enough of a crowd to generate some energy for the performers. (I did discover once that the Wang Center (Tori Amos) could feel just like a small venue if you have second row center seats.) I want to hear the music, and sound systems designed to fill a large space are rarely crisp. Symphony Hall in Boston (k.d. lang) does have great acoustics, and if I had to choose a venue for seeing a show from the last row of the balcony, that would probably be it.

And for a festival atmosphere, buskers around Harvard Square or Faneuil Hall on a summer night can be a treat.

Yearning

Photo by Michael

Maine rocks

Photo by Michael

My family are rock people. My father's father's family quarried granite, as did other branches of the family that came from England around the same time (and my theory is that my family name is corrupted from a term related to carrying stone). My father's mother's family name is Blackstone. The foundations of my parents' house and barn is granite slab and fieldstone, none of which traveled from far away before it supported a home. My niece picks up rocks no matter where she is. I personally breathe a sigh of relief whenever I see bedrock exposed to the air. My favorite beach in Hawaii wasn't sandy, it was the one that was entirely black stone ranging from too big to carry in one hand all the way down to too small to bother you between your toes.

These Maine rocks are pretty small. You could put half a dozen of them in your pocket if you didn't greedily choose the largest ones. Or you could choose a few and stack them, adding a bit of instability to the landscape.

Outside the house where we stayed there was a rock too big to even call a boulder. The exposed part was the size of one of the rooms in our house. It made me feel grounded and calm---the tides would come and go, but that rock was going nowhere, no matter how hard my niece tried to move it and we both wished we could bring it home. (By "we" I mean me and my niece. I don't know if Michael lusted after that same rock.)

---Lisa

Herons in the cove

Photos by Michael

On Wednesday morning, we woke up at 6:30 to discover 3 great blue herons fishing in our cove. We went out on the deck and watched them for an hour before deciding it was too cold to stay outside any longer. The next morning there were 4 great blue herons for a time. Herons, laughing gulls, herring gulls, eiders, mallards, and cormorants were all taking turns during the week feeding on small fish and mussels in the cove, a steady banquet. On Saturday morning an enormous group of ducks, 8 adults and 7 ducklings, found their way to the cove in the thickening fog. We had seen a group just like that near the Marshall Point lighthouse a few miles away on Thursday afternoon, and it was fun to imagine they had followed us home. Birds were in the air all week as well, from enormous osprey to a hummingbird that suddenly rose out of nowhere to hover right across the deck railing from my face for a few moments before zooming off. Swooping finches (gold and purple), loudly territorial crows, doves, chickadees and more all shared the tall pine trees. And a wild turkey greeted us as we crossed the causeway onto the island for the first time, near where the fox had appeared last year.

The amazing ornithology teacher at my high school, Arthur Cooley, promised that he could increase any student’s repertoire of birds they could identify by a factor of 10 over a year, regardless of where they started. I loved going on the nature hikes he’d lead, and I sure wish he’d been up at that cove with us.

Permanent record

In my work in scholarly publishing, I care deeply about preserving the integrity of the scientific and academic literature. In the print age, when scholarly publishers had sizable and discrete print runs, most readers could be assured that they were reading the same version of a work as their colleagues. We developed an esoteric jargon of editions and printings, copyright dates and publication dates; and none of these were relevant for differentiating versions of the typical work which came out in a single edition. The electronic age, however, makes it easy to disseminate a near-infinite variety of drafts of any given work, with major or minor changes sometimes dependent on the vagaries of your own computer if you are reading or printing a pdf file. Since there are still advantages to knowing that you are reading the same version of a work as your colleagues, I put a lot of effort into ensuring that a single version of a work is reproduced consistently across formats and across print runs, even when those print runs are individual copies printed by readers. The scholarly conversation should be about data and theories and ideas, not arguments or questions about what an author actually said in a published work.

A blog like this one has a marked flexibility to me, on the other hand. I frequently make small corrections a few minutes after publishing a post, and sometimes rework sentences days or weeks later in random fits of editing. I’ve occasionally removed entire posts, and one of my first comments (also deleted) was from someone wanting to find a post I’d written about First Alert’s carbon monoxide detectors and then removed. I sometimes feel a twinge from my academic publisher side, but my editor side feels indulged and contented.

Not a design blog

I peruse design blogs for fun. I love the steady stream of clean photos, pithy text, and endless comments of “where can I buy that?” I’m not starting a design blog, but I may do an occasional design post like this one.

Derek Marshall (www.derekmarshall.com) is a glass artist who makes beautiful wall sconces, some with iron work by David Little of Winnepesaukee Forge (www.irontable.com).



I picked up David’s business card at some art show or other, probably because he also makes really cool furniture ranging from ornate to simple:

Cardenio and King John

We attended the press opening of Cardenio on May 14 and the opening performance of King John on May 18. Both plays are trading primarily on Shakespeare’s name to sell tickets, but they could hardly be more different.

King John, written by Shakespeare, presents a steady pattern of relationships forming and unforming. The dispute over Falconbridge’s inheritance at the start of the play serves as a miniature of the struggle for the throne, and his shift in familial loyalty is echoed in several later conflicts. We see the English nobles forced to give up on their king, the French king forced to abandon an alliance with England by the demands of the church, and an intense scene when the young Arthur pleads with Hubert for mercy. The pain of torn loyalties is best given voice by John’s niece Blanch who, after being given in marriage to the French Dauphin to create a peace, sees her two families going back to war:

Which is the side that I must go withal?
I am with both: each army hath a hand;
And in their rage, I having hold of both,
They swirl asunder and dismember me.

This production by the Actors’ Shakespeare Project contrasts the coolly remote power couple of John and his mother Eleanor with the prone-to-hysteria Constance and her son Arthur. Casting Hubert as a woman adds a third maternal relationship when Hubert is given charge over Arthur, as well as adding some fascinating texture to John’s relationship with Hubert. The ASP also adds layering by staging the production in the basement of the Episcopal cathedral. The Catholic cardinal’s destructive meddling throughout the play foreshadows the foundation of the Church of England, and staring at the bare foundation walls of the cathedral brings that context, which was so immediate to Shakespeare’s audiences, closer to a modern audience.

The casting is mixed. Sarah Newhouse as Hubert is inherently interesting, and my reactions to her with Arthur are deepened by having seen her as Macduff and Lady Macduff in the fall. Bill Barclay gives a stand-out performance as the Bastard, neatly balancing his combined function in the play as dramatic agent and clown (an unusual combination for Shakespeare). John Kuntz as the Catholic cardinal grows more and more creepy simply by maintaining a constant smile as everyone else suffers, and Joel Colodner is a regal, powerful, and human King Philip. Khalil Flemming is a fine Arthur, grown by circumstance beyond the character’s or the actor’s years. Most of the rest of the cast is unfortunately forgettable.

Cardenio, written by Stephen Greenblatt and Charles Mee and having its debut at the American Repertory Theatre, is intended to evoke pieces of Shakespeare’s comedies rather than his histories. Some of the sketch comedy in Cardenio is wonderful, particularly Remo Airaldi’s one-man presentation of the play-within-a-play and Nathan Keepers’ solo wedding dance routine. I would not expect the standout scenes in a farce to be the ones where only one actor is on stage, but it highlights the relentless narcissism of the characters in Cardenio. Using simplified themes from a freshman Shakespeare course to plot a disjointed choose-your-own-Umbrian-adventure, Greenblatt and Mee abjure all attempts to evoke Shakespeare’s brilliance with language and with human characters, preferring to present an exaggeratedly negative and static view of contemporary marriage and courting (in that order). In three hours and a cast of 12, there should be time enough to reveal a character’s depth, or for a character to develop some depth. But that would presumably get in the way of lengthy parodies of the Overheard Conversation scene or the Surprising Arrival scene. The set is rich and lovely, but the writing definitely is not. Credit for the incredibly funny parts clearly belongs to the individual actors.

KT Tunstall

For only having a couple of albums out, KT Tunstall has an incredible number of distinctive and wonderful songs. And she was having a blast last night at the Orpheum, performing with high energy for close to 2 hours. Not many songs were given new interpretations aside from being entirely acoustic instruments (except the keyboard), but the live performance did give fresh echoes at various points of early Cowboy Junkies and Natalie Merchant. I’d really love to see her in a venue with good acoustics some day. Can’t complain about our seats, though—directly on the center aisle 13 rows from the stage, with the two seats in front of us empty until the encores.

Paddy Casey from Ireland (in Boston to find his roots, as he put it) did a good opening set, though I did wonder how much of the DSM he was going to cover in a single set. Depression, fear, and loss were recurrent themes. As someone who happily listens to Pink Floyd and 4AD artists like This Mortal Coil and Dead Can Dance, I can go along with that. But for me, the real star of his set was Fiona Melady, who accompanied him on keyboard and took the lead for one beautiful song of her own. I love hearing new music this way.

Unplugged

We’re going on vacation soon, unplugged for a week, hoping to connect to sea and sky, fire and books (our four elements). We’ll be on the Maine coast with a beautiful deck and a private beach, waves and sea birds and clouds to watch, a massive fireplace and a charcoal grill, and a stack of books. Much as I’ve loved sitting on our back deck at home this month, I need the time away from work and home responsibilities to relax and shift focus for a time. And maybe even sleep.

Revels revised

It’s not about solving the problem; it’s about reveling in the problem.

A toddler was kicking up quite the fuss in the playground this evening, prompting the above observation. Do we improve as adults? As long as “tired” and “busy” are the only socially acceptable conditions to admit to, I’d say the answer is no.

Our brain chemistry is improved through forced smiling, and the social equivalent is to focus on sharing the positive with others. Problems are inevitable, and sharing them can help solve them or at least ease the burden. But we also need to revel in the positive, or lose our way.

Finding new music: comments

This is a comments thread for the current poll. How do you find new music? Do you still find new music, or are you content with the music you already know?

Cars and guns

40 minutes into Boston this morning, 12 minutes back. Who was it that decided people should all go to work during rush hour? And why do they all work downtown?

There are 40% fewer gun licenses in my town than 6 years ago. Are there 40% fewer guns? 40% fewer gun crimes? Have the demographics changed so much in 6 years that there are 40% fewer applications for gun licenses? Or are we processing so many people through the criminal justice system that the police department has an excuse to turn down that many more applications?

Today’s post brought to you by the number 40.

Best Buy visits our range

One day, Michael and Lisa received a renewal notice from Best Buy for the service contract on their GE gas range. “That’s interesting,” they said, “apparently we have a service contract on our gas range. I wonder if Best Buy would fix the burner that doesn’t light reliably? It’s not a big problem, but we do have a service contract.”

So Michael called Best Buy, and Best Buy promptly offered to send an Expert to come fix their gas range the very next day. Lisa and Michael were very excited, and the next morning the Expert called and told them when he would arrive. “Between 9 and 11? That’s great!” So the Expert arrived when he said he would, and he fixed the problem immediately.

“This little metal igniter point on the burner and the corresponding little metal point on the burner cap just need to be cleaned off occasionally,” explained the Expert. He used a metal file for a few seconds on each point to make sure that they would make contact properly, and tested the burners to make sure they worked correctly now. “Thank you,” said Michael. “That couldn’t have been easier,” said Lisa. “You’re welcome,” said the Expert. And he gave them a receipt explaining what he had done and confirming that there was no charge for his work, and then he was gone.

“Wow,” said Michael, “I had no idea that Best Buy service was so easy! I didn’t even need to find my original receipt, and they came and fixed our range the very next day. We must be the luckiest customers in the world.” And they were.

THE END

Choosing a publisher for a monograph

In academia, publication is about perception. I prefer to view it as being about communication to present and future readers, about exploring and synthesizing knowledge, about the love of teaching in another form. But the reality is that most academic authors publish because hiring decisions and tenure decisions consider publication records as a significant factor.

The scholarly monograph is key in that publication record. Textbooks and teaching materials don’t count, even at most teaching colleges, even though writing a good textbook demonstrates more mastery of a subject area than any esoteric exploration of the margins. Editing a journal rarely counts for much, and a reasonable rejection rate for the journal means that the editor is necessarily alienating many of the contacts he is making. Tenure requirements may be rigid (one monograph and four journal articles) or flexible (one monograph and three to five journal articles), but the monograph remains the bane of the young scholar’s life.

For publishers, monographs have become difficult to justify publishing. Sales of monographs have plummeted over the past two decades, and the only reason that most publishers still consider monographs is because they are afraid of losing their position of importance in academia. If we don’t publish monographs, then we won’t be considered a serious publisher, and young scholars won’t continue looking to us for salvation, and established scholars won’t be as contented in their relationships with us. Academic publishing relies on an intricate web of relationships between publishers and professors, because publishers depend on professors being willing to serve on editorial boards, edit journals, act as peer reviewers, review books, write back cover blurbs, and make connections between publishers and authors or prospective authors. In return, the professoriate asks that publishers continue to publish monographs, and publishers feel obliged to oblige.

As academic publishing has grown, the chances that any particular scholar has read any particular book has dropped, so it is unusual for the actual merits of a book as a work of scholarship to become widely known. New printing technologies have made the size of the initial print run unimportant, so books are rarely still ranked based on that number. The professoriate no longer demands that publishers edit those monographs, or proofread them, or typeset them, or even market them (though some publishers still do). What publishers must continue to do is put covers on books and put logos on the spines. This vastly reduced set of expectations has made the reputation of the publisher take on an overriding importance, even when the criteria for evaluating a publisher are highly impressionistic and idiosyncratic. A young scholar seeking to publish a monograph must choose a publisher with a good reputation, and must avoid a publisher with a bad reputation, and must somehow divine which publishers are which.

Note that this is unrelated to deciding which publisher may do the best job of editing the book or marketing the book, or which publisher may help the book reach the most readers, or what the contract terms might be. Even the opinion of the author herself about the reputation of the publisher is unimportant. What matters is the opinion of the professors who will be on the tenure review committee or hiring committee. For an author given the choice between a publisher with a good reputation who in fact is little more than a glorified copy shop and a publisher with a bad reputation who in fact carefully reviews and edits the books they publish, the decision should always be the publisher with the good reputation.

Hello, Adobe?

Hello, Adobe? I have a copy of Creative Suite Premium 1.1 for Mac which I need to reinstall on a laptop, but the second installer disk is unbalanced and won’t read. You have no actual replacement disks? And it takes 48 hours to send out a download link? Ok. A customer only pays about $700 a year for upgrades on this, so it’s probably not worth trying to help. Ok, sure, I’ll wait for 48 hours.

Hello, Adobe? You still haven’t sent the download link. Oh, I see, you transcribed both e-mail addresses incorrectly, and it takes 48 hours to create the link but you still need to remember to send it out? Ok, sure, I’ll keep waiting.

Hello, Adobe? The download link is for Creative Suite 2, which my serial number doesn’t work on. And your ftp server is rather overloaded, so it took close to an hour to get all four disk images downloaded in order to discover this. Oh, you claim the link is definitely for 1.1? And that I must be doing something wrong? Is this like ordering Pepsi, receiving a lobster bisque (which you’re allergic to), and having the waiter insist that it’s Pepsi? No, I can’t turn it into a Pepsi. Yes, I’m quite certain that it’s not a Pepsi. Is there anyone there who knows what they’re doing? Anyone at all? (Three people later.) You’ll send a correct link in an hour? Ok, sure, I’ll wait another hour.

Hello, Adobe? I’ve now spoken to tech support twice, customer support six times, and three days later I am no closer to having CS 1.1 reinstalled on my laptop. I’ve spent about three hours on the phone talking to those 8 people, not a single one of whom has actually taken a useful step toward solving the problem. In fact, not a single one has been able to correctly echo back to me simple statements of the problem on the first try. Is there any other department at Adobe? Perhaps a way to reach a person who knows what they’re doing? Or cares? Or both?

Hello, Quark? Yeah, I know it’s been a really long time, and you’ve probably moved on also (well, actually, you probably haven’t), but do you want to maybe go out for a drink? Just to catch up?