What do you mean, “nothing can be done?” I’m sending my prayers

I agree completely. Should have qualified (“romantic sensibility”).

This obviously needs not be said, but Germans are the white people of white people

Not to mention the correlation between emotional instability and creative genius. Why don’t we close our eyes and listen to the most brilliant music anybody’s producing right now?

I’m profoundly out of touch when it comes to pop culture (phd in classical music) so I was glad to read that Lou Reed confirmed my bias.…

Wonderful. Reminds me of the scene in Fellini Satyricon (I guess you know you’ve made it when they drop the possessive) where they go through the Greek collection, saying it’s been downhill ever since

I think it was, yes.

To be clear I refer to Aaronovsky, who made it through production of his first feature film without knowing who Cary Grant was.

Did you listen to the Ari Shapiro or the longer one on Chicago’s Morning Shift?

Um, I try to not vaguely hate myself because I’m a white male — I try to think of Einstein, David Lynch, and Peanuts’ Schroeder — but fuckwit here makes it pretty goddamn difficult.

Funny that you compare him to Picasso; the only rival for worst take is a bartender I know who was raised in a working class suburb of London. While it does possess its share of rough neighborhoods, he allows the fact to give him license to all conceivable manner of shit-talking, and one of his favorites when I stop…

What an opportunist. God, I wish he’d stop with the “Medicare for all” stuff.

No.

It’s an absolutely incredible album (and I have no skin in this game at all, although I do have a phd in music) and his stuff is so far ahead of his peers it’s little wonder the guy’s living one long continuous nervous breakdown.

Where would jazz be if Louis Armstrong and Duke Ellington had both been murdered in 1925?…

Scram!

Another 9/11 memory: a couple days after, in the New York Times, an op-ed by (awful) composer John Corigliano called “Today We Are All Israelis”

It was news to me.

I hate to say it but I remember very clearly the moment at which I felt the abyss between me and feminism open. It was September 12, 2001, and I found myself arguing with a very intelligent, beautiful, award-winning New York musician who insisted 9/11 was actually “an attack on women”

I’ve said it before, but damn, Boston, that is one dispiriting hunk o’ brutalism.

(I guess I should be clear — that was not serious. For some reason I just wanted to see “robust-in-the-archaic-periodPuddingPants” on my screen)

I know. I refuse to see it before September 12. I might even wait until the 14th or 15th, out of respect.

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