The Nick in My Guitar
Rick Brown

My Daughter's First Rock Concert
Matt Carmean

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It was pretty cool. The highlights:

Marta and I are walking toward the arena behind some gray haired guy smoking a joint. I'm realizing just how long it's been since I've been to a big concert. The band comes out and there's huge noise. Marta seems impressed by the sights and the sound of the crowd.

They start playing. They do some of the famous stuff. I point Neil out to CSN are singing and playing their guitars...sort of standing there. Y is moving around and turning and lurching and jerking around; he's going at it! It's great!

The concert's not so loud that I'm too worried about Marta's ears (I brought earplugs just in case), but there's a lot of cigarette smoking ... and the smell of burning dope is around from time to time. Neil sings "Cinnamon Girl" and Marta recognizes it from home. She recognizes some of the other stuff from the radio, but this is music she knows.

CSNY take a break. Marta's a little tired and I've been a little worried about the noise and more worried about the smoke; I ask her how she's feeling and if she wants to stay or go home. She definitely wants to stay. I explain that I'm a bit concerned about the noise and concerned about the smoke. She assures me she's fine. The volume, for the most part, isn't really much of a concern, and we're only smelling marijuana, the smoke isn't actually coming around our heads or coming at us, so I figure it's o.k.

Marta asks if we can get some popcorn before we go back in. We're standing in line and the guy in front of us turns around and starts talking to me. He's real stoned. He has some of that new "Listerine Blotter", the square you put on your tongue and it dissolves and gives you instant fresh breath. He starts rambling to me about how these squares change you when you put them on your tongue but it's nothing like the little squares we used to put on our tongues when we were younger. He alludes to his state of mind. I mention that "yeah, this is a pretty cool show...I brought my DAUGHTER..." but the guy is too wasted and/or stupid to figure out that he should shut up so he keeps rambling. Marta's eyeing him suspiciously. He asks her if
she likes Britney Spears, Backstreet Boys, etc. She's sort of frowning a bit now and getting behind me a little (away from him). I tell her "It's o.k., tell this guy what you like" and she proclaims "The Beatles!" So, the guy tells her she must be a cool kid, but by now she just thinks he's weird or nuts.

We go back in. To my relief (as a parent) they've opened up some vents or something and there's nice cool air. Smoke is no problem at all from here on out. CSNY returns and does some acoustic stuff. This is nice because now I'm not at all concerned about Marta's ears either. "Harvest Moon" is nice. Some more electric. "Eight Miles High" is cool.

Marta gets real excited: "This is a song you play at home!" when she hears
Rockin' In The Free World". Yes, indeed.

At end of show, the bic lighters come out. Marta seems fascinated. We've been clapping through the show; now I figure I'll show her how you can do it at a concert... I'm yelling "YEEEAAAHHH! YEEEAAAHHHHH!" Marta looks at
me then starts screaming "WOOOOOOO! WOOOOOOO!" It was pretty cool. I give her the quick explain about encores. We keep cheering. They come back out and do another song.

We're driving home afterwards. Marta asks if that smell, not the cigarettes, the other smell, was marijuana. I tell her "yeah". She had been in DARE at school that afternoon so she wants to know if marijuana is "a stimulant, a depressant, or a hallucinogen?" I try to answer that, then there's more questions... "Then is it an upper or a downer? "Why do people at concerts like to smoke marijuana?" I won't go into detail, but I think I handled all these questions like a good, responsible dad...without telling any lies!

I'm tucking her in and she tells me how great it all was.

We sleep in the next morning but she wants to go to school at noon because of a meeting, so I take her. Some people at school are impressed that she went to the concert.

As for the concert; there were things about the show that could have been better. I wasn't overly impressed with CSN, but I didn't feel let down either; they did their thing and it was what it was. The real reason I went with Marta was for us to see Y, and if all we had heard had been Cinnamon Girl and Rockin' In The Free World, while seeing Neil get into his singing and his guitar, that would have been enough to make me happy and feel like I had gotten my money's worth, everything else was extra; so the show was great!

Jazz for Rockers: Essential Recordings
Ted Kane

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The following is a list of ten great jazz albums. The best of all time? Not neccessarily. These 10 are all here because I like them and because I think they are albums that would have special appeal to listeners who, like me, are approaching jazz from the standpoint of a lifetime devotee of rock and roll.

1.) A Love Supreme-John Coltrane. A classic, catches the the great Coltrane Quartet at the peak of their powers, before Coltrane's spiritual and musical quest headed for regions that McCoy Tyner and Elvin Jones chose not to follow. Lots of great recordings from the master, however: Impressions, Crescent & Ascension (both versions) are equally deserving.

2.) Dancing in Your Head-Ornette Coleman. One of the most perfectly named albums in any genre of music. A dense brew of funk and free jazz that has more to do with Ornette's years of giging with R&B than it does with any attempt on his part to cash in on the then current fusion movement. Features great, hyperkinetic drums from Ronald Shannon Jackson and a unique colaboration with the Master Musicians of Jajouka on the last track. The Shape of Jazz to Come and Change of the Century are two good examples of his earlier style with the classic quartet of
Coleman, Don Cherry, Charlie Haden and Billy Higgins.
Continued - Pot Luck

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A Little Taste of Mardi Gras… in Columbus
Professor Cory Tressler

Wednesday February 6, 2002
Little Brother's - Columbus, OH
Dirty Dozen Brass Band - Spookie Daly Pride

New Orleans is a sweaty city known for its many exciting and eccentric elements. Some call it the sewer of the states, some call it plain evil, but the Dirty Dozen Brass Band calls it home and it shows. The raucous six-piece jazz/funk outfit brought a little taste of jambalaya with them into Little Brother's. From the minute they hit the stage their "raved" up version of jazz electrified the stale bar air. Dirty Dozen's approach to jazz is much like a Creole chefs approach to cooking… spicy and hot.

The band consists of a unique rhythm section that included a solid drummer and an excellent sousaphone player. This combination was very interesting considering it did not consist of a bass player like the "standard" band setup. Julius 'Jazz' McKee's sous-playin' was deep and heavy, relying on long notes to reverberate throughout the bar and hold the low end down. (Julius plays a sweet sousaphone, but after talking to him I found that he had a rather skewed perspective on college football. For some strange reason he did not understand that the Big Ten and the Buckeyes are the toughest and therefore the best footballers in all the lands. He kept talking about some unknown league he called the S.E.C.? Never heard of it.) The "spiciness" of dirty dozen came from a fine trumpeter, a gritty saxophonist, an excited tromboner, and a smooth guitarist. Each of these 4 musicians took turns throughout the night pumping fuel to the jazz. Continued - Music/Concerts

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Our Mister Sun
Rick Brown

I remember when I was in elementary school there were these assemblies where the authorities would show this movie titled, "Our Mister Sun". It was about this young, hungry newspaper reporter looking for a scoop and he just happens to end up in the laboratory of one, Doctor Research. I don't recall this reporter's name…perhaps it was Reporter Scoop. That sounds silly enough to be the case. Anyway, there wasn't much of a plot in the film beyond Doc Research yakking on and on…scientifically of course…about how we would all be in dire straights if it weren't for good old Mister Sun. Reporter Scoop, obviously impressed with Doc Research's vast knowledge of our big star, would stand there scribbling furiously in his official looking little notebook "oohing" and "ahhing" in awed respect. And of course there was an ever so lovable cartoon character representing…in an ever so lovable way…the honorable Our Mister Sun. Actually, it wasn't a bad movie…until about the 17th time you saw it. "Our Mister Sun" followed me through at least four grades.

Then there was the sequel. (Why is there ALWAYS a sequel?) This was a God-awful flick called "Hemo the Magnificent" which was about hemoglobin. An entire friggin' movie about hemoglobin. Sure…there was the always charming Doctor Research and that whacky young Reporter Scoop…but an animated hemoglobin just doesn't have the star quality of "Our Mister Sun". Maybe they should have made a sequel about "Some One Else's Mister Sun"…or "Our Mister Uranus"…or perhaps an arty film about a recently divorced…yet still vibrant "Our Ms. Sun". There was very little magnificent about Hemo.

The only copy of "Our Mister Sun" that my school possessed came to an untimely demise when I was in the eighth grade. The science teacher…and I use the term quite loosely…Mr. Rinehart ("Our Mister Rinehart"?)…who was notorious for his inability to control his class (We called him Otis after the town drunk on the Andy Griffith show…which may have been unfair to Otis.) was showing it one day in class. I assume Mr. Rinehart either had no lesson planned that day or he merely wanted to take refuge in the possibility of "Our Mister Sun" keeping us under some sort of control. Given the fact most of us had seen this movie at least 10 or 12 times this was obviously the fantasy of a broken man. And this was right at the beginning of my life long quest of railing against authority…ALL authority…ANY authority. After the film was over he fixed it up on the projector so that it could be rewound. This was LONG before the advent of videotape so film had to be run backwards at breakneck speed in order for it to be rewound on the original spool. Anyway…the plug for the projector was a little on the shaky side so Rinehart mistakenly asked ME to make sure it didn't fall out of the wall outlet. So I'm standing there watching this plug bored out of my fourteen year old mind with the projector whirring and rewinding, whirring and rewinding when…on a whim…I YANKED the plug OUT of the electrical socket and immediately rammed it back INTO the electrical outlet! What happened next was a big physics lesson for the entire class.

The rewinding film slowed…then stopped momentarily…then abruptly yanked back into fast rewind mode thus SNAPPING the film in half!!! So now instead of it being rewound on to it's reel film was SPEWING all over the floor in a quite delightful Dionysian suicide dance. Of course all my classmates were laughing their collective asses off while Mr. Rinehart chased me around the room yelling, "Brown you DUMB HEAD! You DUMB HEAD". (Geez…I'm reeking havoc here and all he can come up with is "Dumb Head"?) It took him at least THREE laps around the room before he thought it might be a good idea to stop the carnage of "Our Mister Sun". The film was never to my knowledge shown again. I suppose it could have been repaired…but it would have taken a good three weeks to rewind the film…by hand…back onto the reel before attempting to repair it.
For the big adventure Mr. Rinehart beat my ass with a paddle not once…but THREE times. (This was always his lame attempt at controlling the boys.) I don't think I sat down for a week. I guess sometimes you've got to make sacrifices for the sake of entertainment. My only regret is that I did this to "Our Mister Sun" and not "Hemo the Magnificent". Perhaps this makes me living proof that corporal punishment rarely…if at all…works. And I'd like to think that whacky young Reporter Scoop would have enjoyed the scene.