Poor, poor Baxter. It has been eight weeks since Baxter limped back to my parents’ house in Boone with his front left leg looking like a peeled banana. We didn’t see him injure himself, but he must have snagged it on a barbed-wire fence. The muscle and bone weren’t damaged. At the time, we couldn’t have imagined the amounts of time and money required to get him well again.

The little guy has not run in eight whole miserable weeks. He’s been locked up in the house. Short walks are his only break from the monotony and boredom. He wears an Elizabethan collar and frequently has a red bandage (our vet is an NCSU grad who knows I’m a Carolina fan) 24 hours a day — the outfit makes him look like a sad little clown, sidelined during the circus. I’ve never seen a bird immediately after its wings are clipped, but I imagine it’s similar to watching a forlorn, invalid Baxter, banging his e-collar on furniture, doorjambs and my legs as he mopes around the house.

Maybe you need a visual to make the sad clown connection…

Poor, poor sad clowns.

Poor, poor sad clowns.

Joe Dan Burns

June 13, 1926 – October 7, 2008

I’m really going to miss Joe Burns. Katie’s grandfather was loved and respected by everyone who got to know him, and considering how he never met a stranger, there were a lot of folks who were lucky enough to know him. The memorial service for him on October 11 was well-attended, and the memories shared by his family and friends were a unanimous testament to his character. Repeatedly, I overheard mourners say that he exemplified Brokaw’s characterization of “the greatest generation.” He was an expert in his field, a cornerstone of his church, and a revered leader to his family and friends.

His widow Faye, who has always made me feel like a grandson, is going to continue living in Knoxville for the time being. She’s an oak, and she has a wonderful group of family and friends who love and support her. I look forward to the day my daughter meets her great-grandmother, and hears some of the many stories about her great-grandfather.

A black walnut grove on the Burns tree farm.

A black walnut grove on the Burns tree farm.

Jackie W. Jones’ Recovery

My mother’s health is improving. Blood counts have begun trending in a positive direction. For the first time in months, she isn’t dependent on daily blood transfusions and mineral supplements. Still, a few nagging problems persist. I don’t mean “nagging problems” like a crick in your neck or a head cold. I mean nagging problems like a bladder infection and altered vision due to inflammation of the eye.

If you know my mother, you know that these afflictions are small potatoes compared to what she’s been through the past two years. She has overcome so many hardships; there’s no reason to doubt her ability to overcome these lingering ailments. Our hope is that my mom’s immune system is gradually recovering, and that my parents will again have a semblance of normal life in the near future.

You know what would make a great contest?

The Brad Mehldau Cover Challenge. Music students and/or music lovers would write a brief essay suggesting and justifying a list of 10 pop songs for Brad Mehldau to cover. Four basic rules would apply:

  1. The songs would have to be worthy of reinvention and should inspire something more from Mehldau than the novelty of a familiar melody in a different style
  2. The songs would have to suit the musicality of jazz piano (that would probably rule out most hip-hop and some electronic)
  3. The songs would have to be “popular music” (or music recognizable to at least one-quarter of the American population)
  4. The songs cannot have already been covered extensively by other artists (Architecture in Helsinki’s “Heart It Races” comes to mind…Britney Spears’ “Toxic”, Outkast’s “Hey Ya”, and Rihanna’s “Umbrella” are more poppy examples of songs that have been covered to death)

Aside from those criteria, the sky would be the limit. Prior to the submission of these essays, Brad Mehldau himself would choose the winner and create an entire album and name it in honor of that person. It would be the ultimate jazz-cover mixtape. As for my own cover choices, I haven’t fleshed out a complete album. Here’s a partial list:

  • Say It Ain’t So, Weezer
  • Maps, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs
  • Diamonds and Pearls, Prince
  • A Tear for Eddie, Ween (I know…I’m already breaking rule three)
  • Here You Come Again, Dolly Parton
  • Imitation of Life, R.E.M.
  • God Only Knows, The Beach Boys (now I’m breaking rule four)
  • If I Had a Boat, Lyle Lovett

I discovered Mehldau several years ago. It was a cover of Radiohead’s Paranoid Android that introduced me to his intensity (check it out if you don’t believe me), dexterity (he can play different melodies with each hand), and overall genius. The Brad Mehldau Trio released Brad Mehldau Trio Live (Nonesuch Records) a few months ago, an album recorded at the Village Vanguard in New York in the fall of last year. Live is Mehldau’s fourth album recorded there. It’s so good that I’ve dropped other music I’ve purchased recently and started going back through Mehldau’s earlier live recordings.

Brad Mehldau Trio Live

Of course, Mehldau and his current trio, which includes bassist Larry Grenadier and drummer Jeff Ballard, are much, much more than a cover band. They also play Mehldau’s original music and an equal percentage of their live sets is devoted to classic jazz standards.

When I read that Mehldau’s group recently covered Soundgarden’s Black Hole Sun on their lastest live recording, I had to pick it up. Ironically, Black Hole Sun is the only throw-away track on the two-disc set; the song is good for a round of “name that tune” with your friends, but a bit tedious at more than 23 minutes total. Now that I have my one negative comment out of the way, I can gush uninhibited about the rest of the album.

The album opens with its other pop cover, Oasis’ Wonderwall. As with any successful cover, it’s what Mehldau’s trio subtracts and adds to their version that really makes the song wonderful. The Mehldau trio’s rendition is void of the Gallagher delivery and attitude that annoyed me so much. The trio’s enhancements include a bossa nova-like rhythm, staccato and stride piano interpretation of the song’s lyrical notes (as opposed to Noel’s nasaly moans), and a bluesy-sounding, hard-driving Mehldau solo. Throughout his wandering improvisation, one of Mehldau’s hands remains true to the song’s melodic theme while the other hand explores the rest of the keyboard.

The trio’s chemistry is excellent throughout the album, but certain instances, where they nail typical jazz transitions (from a solo to the song’s head, from one solo to another solo), are remarkable and even spine-chilling. Secret Beach (a Mehldau original) really stands out to me.  B-Flat Waltz, Buddha Realm (I wish my name had a cool anagram) and John Coltrane’s Countdown are other highlights. As the band leader, Mehldau and his solos loom large over most of the tracks; he covers a wide spectrum of tempos and styles. Grenadier and Ballard also shine on the rare occasions when they get the spotlight.

More importantly, all three musicians excel at conversational improvisation, whether call-and-response or a less formal kind of interplay. I’ve found that whenever I listen to any of it, I continually have to remind myself that the performance is live. Oh, and considering our weakened American economy, I have to point out that you can’t find a much better value; the two-disc set, with two and a half hours of music, has the same price point as a single album.

Playing and improvising popular music written by someone else is inherent to jazz. When a pop song is accommodated by an artist in a different genre, for a different audience, the result can be a powerful hook that draws listeners in. Some of Mehldau’s pop covers are so good, they could legitimately replace other, more dated standards.

The Mehldau contest may be my own personal fantasy, but I share my appreciation for Mehldau’s recordings with many different types of jazz fans. So, come for the familiar and stay for the new and fantastic.

I accompanied Katie today to her appointment at the obstetrician’s office, and the ultrasound was about what I expected (including complete amazement and wonder at the tiny little girl inside my wife). The baby was flailing her arms and legs throughout her time on screen. Her heart rate was right at the normal rate of 150 beats per minute. Katie’s fundal height is 24 centimeters, which is at the higher end of the normal range for a pregnancy at week 22. So, everything is copacetic.

We’ve narrowed down the child’s name to either Jacqueline (Katie’s choice) or Jacquelyn (my preference). Regardless of which formal name we choose, her name will be Jackie. If you’re wondering why we chose to name her after my mom, click on the link to the Perseverance page on this blog. Katie and I aren’t parents yet, but we already know we want to give our children the means, values, and mindset they need to be a positive part of the world around them. With the name Jackie, we can also give our first girl a legacy of kindness, strength, and love.

Please don’t get the wrong idea. Naming our child Jackie is not just a tribute to my mother and her struggle. It is not a memorial. It is part of the expectation that our little Jackie will soon be able to look up, literally and figuratively, to her grandmother Jackie. Here’s my definition of hope: I look out the window on a sunny day and see them walking down the sidewalk, hand-in-hand.

Here’s a picture of little Jackie at 22 weeks:

I have one other brief domestic update. Here’s a picture I took of 320 Avon Drive when Bax, Robah and I jogged past last Friday…at least they spared the old dogwood tree:

Baby girl Jones is doing fine, with no real updates to speak of, so I’m making this post in lieu of baby news. I know, I know. You’re probably already disappointed.

I remember the first time I flipped through The Visual Display of Quantitative Information by Edward Tufte. My initial skim of the book was a kind of coffee-table experience — I was captivated by the aesthetics of the graphics without taking the time to appreciate their informational value. After a more thorough reading during my graduate coursework, chartjunk, small multiples, and other theoretical and practical concepts began to sink in. I remember disagreeing with more than a few of Tufte’s claims (and I still do), but I was enamored with his academic dedication to technical communication. It inspires me still today. I’ve been wondering lately…could I learn something about my musical preferences by visualizing my music’s metadata?

Even though I sometimes worry about Apple’s stranglehold on digital music, iTunes is the best digital media application available. I’ve been a loyal iTunes user for the past three years. Katie and I share our Mac, but I am responsible for 98% of the music uploaded. At a minimum, she deserves an understated tip of the hat: my wife is a good sport when it comes to my music-listening/buying/downloading habits. Since 2006, I’ve been able to collect and organize my music in ways that stacks of Case Logic albums could never accommodate. On the one hand, I miss liner notes and inserts. On the other hand, I’d prefer to filter and sort data fields click-by-click anyday over flipping through plastic sleeves in a book.

Last month, I decided to delve deeper into my (and Katie’s) music library. I began with a loosely-defined purpose and one particular variable. I wanted to analyze my song aquisition habits since the beginning of 2007 by genre. In other words, how have my musical tastes changed over the past year and a half? Of course, genre is an extremely subjective way to categorize. For example, I draw a clear line of distinction with my mind and ears between R & B, Soul, and Funk. For example, if the average person were asked to sort Donny Hathaway, Jill Scott, Poets of Rhythm, Bo Boral, and Mary J. Blige into these two genres, their results would likely be different than mine. Some artists (e.g. Rufus Wainwright, The Avett Brothers, Beirut, Air France) are pretty darn difficult to force into one bucket, but they can’t be duplicated and put into two buckets or divided among multiple buckets. I keep reminding myself that it’s okay if the genres are subjective — I’m the only one interested in dissecting my library anyway.

In most of the cases where genre blurs the boundaries of visualization, I used the category Alternative & Punk as a bit of a catch-all. As any ontologist will attest, homogeneity is crucial to characteristics of division. If genre is a characteristic of song division, then a couple of my labels don’t fit the bill. As a category label, Soundtrack is problematic because it is not homogenous with the others. Finally, the category called Blanks (also not homogenous) consists of music that has not yet been assigned a genre label.

Here’s a snapshot of my music library in July of 2008. The full data set, or all the music I own, is about 10,100 songs. The pie chart below depicts songs by genre.

Music Library, by Genre

Music Library, by Genre

So, World music jumped 2,450%, from two songs in December 2006 to 51 songs in July 2008. The statistically-significant increases from January 2007 to July 2008 were:

Genre Percentage Increase Number of Songs 1/07 Number of Songs 7/08
Bluegrass* 128% 47 107
Electronic 81% 214 389
Folk 46% 133 194

* attributed mostly to Chatham County Line

Lounge and Metal were completely flat (no songs acquired) over the year-and-a-half period, while I only added one single Blues song (1%) and six Soundtrack tracks (3%). Increases in all the other categories ranged from 9% to 45%.

Here’s the breakdown of song acquisition by genre:

Music Acquisition Trend, by Genre

Music Acquisition Trend, by Genre

This exercise has me thinking about other variables that, when displayed visually, might reveal interesting trends or patterns. Play Count and Skip Count would really describe my listening habits, but there’s no data because I rarely play music in iTunes. I suppose I could start appending each song record in my library with My Rating, but tastes change overtime and it would be a full-time job assigning stars to every song I hear. Perhaps the next time I sort through my music, I’ll look at the gradual trend of acquiring songs and not entire albums during the last several years.

I’d certainly like to hear any ideas you may have about visualizing music collections and listening habits.

It’s official. After weeks of speculation, dream-state prognoses, and matching Katie’s pregnancy up against old wives’ tales, my hunch has been confirmed by her doctors at REX. We’re having a baby girl. She weighs about nine ounces right now. I’ll post more info and ultrasound images as soon as we get all moved in to our new digs on White Oak Road.

Big ups to Rich Jones for his help yesterday. He moved boxes with beastly strength, and packed the trucks like he was a Russian mathematician playing Tetris.

Katie had another appointment with her obstetrician yesterday and the check-up went well. The doctor told Katie that the fetus was extremely active in the womb. Because the appointment was after lunch, and because the heat level of Katie’s lunch was “Thai spicy”, the baby Jones was probably dancing around in there to avoid all the capsaicin.

The baby’s heart rate was 153 bpm. The location of the womb is fairly high. Combine those two indicators with the dream I had last week and the dream Katie had last night, and all signs point to a little girl. We only have a couple more weeks of speculation though – after Katie begged and pleaded with the staff at REX Hospital, they agreed to do the ultrasound to reveal the baby’s sex during week 19 instead of the scheduled time during week 21.

Tuesday night was Baby Jones’ first concert. Katie and I splurged on good seats to see R.E.M., Modest Mouse, and The National at Ever-Changing-Corporate-Sponsor-Blah-Blah-Something-Blah-Pavilion at Walnut Creek in Raleigh. I don’t know if her/his budding ears captured any of the night’s sounds, but I like to think the experience was something like a prenatal alt-rock primer.

The National opened with a decent short set. Their sound, at least what I’ve heard on the one album I own (Boxer), relies too much on Matt Berninger’s barritone vocals, changing instrumentation, and overall melancholy to really take over in an outdoor arena. One of the guys played the fiddle like a mandolin, but I couldn’t hear it at all. They sounded almost like a heat-withered, too-sad-to-be-angry Interpol. To be fair, anyone playing music at 6:45 p.m. in 98-degree heat has a right to be withered.

The National, June 10, 2008.

The National – persevering in the heat

Modest Mouse was on at dusk, and I knew what to expect before the band took the stage; there would be much less screaming (unfortunately for us) from Isaac Brock than when I saw them at the Variety Playhouse in Atlanta in 2001. Back then I would never have guessed that Johnny Marr (formerly of The Smiths) would be beside Brock onstage, but there he was, looking closer to a spry 24 than a seasoned 44. Their set included only a couple classics from their two Up Records releases. I can’t complain though, because Isaac did gnaw on his guitar strings for awhile during “Here it Comes”. I’m almost ashamed to admit it, but the music snob in me was pleasantly surprised when they finished without playing “Float On”. Of course, some of the whipper-snappers in attendance acted like they deserved a refund because they didn’t hear it.

Modest Mouse

Modest Mouse – quieter than last time

After the sun set on south Raleigh, R.E.M. began with “Harborcoat”. Michael Stipe’s theatrics changed to match each new song. Mike Mills, wearing the same shirt (or so it seemed) that he was wearing when Katie first met he and Stipe in Athens, was stationed house left. Peter Buck was audible, but not really visible because he roamed a dark part of the stage most of the night. Everyone in the band, old members and new, gathered ’round the piano for a sing-along rendition of “Let Me In”.

Katie particularly enjoyed “Find The River”, “Electrolite” and “Orange Crush”, while the highlights for me were “Bad Day”, “Welcome to the Occupation”, and “Pretty Persuasion”. The only disappointments were songs I don’t really like in the first place — “I’m Gonna DJ” and the title track from Accelerate. They finished with an outstanding encore, and brought Marr, Don Dixon, and Mitch Easter on stage for a couple of songs. They closeded with “Fall on Me”, “Sitting Still”, and “Man on the Moon”. All in all, the band played like they were genuinely happy to be back in the South. The result was a memorable show for Katie and me, and probably just some vibrations for baby Jones.

R.E.M. - \

R.E.M. – “Bad Day”

R.E.M. - \

R.E.M. – “Let Me In”

R.E.M. - \

R.E.M. – “Fall on Me”

According to the ultrasound today (images are shown below), all systems are go for baby Jones. She/he has now surpassed six centimeters, so her/his length is about the same as the width of my iPhone. If you click on the first image posted below and view the larger image size, you’ll see that she/he already seems to have Katie’s nose. Katie has been feeling fairly good lately except for some nagging allergies.

We’ve just begun deliberating about potential names for the child. There will be plenty of future debate, since Katie and I have only agreed on the family names that we’ve had in mind for awhile now. Speaking of family names, we’re probably going to let Robah keep his.

May 29 Ultrasound image 1

May 29 Ultrasound image 2

Katie had her first ultrasound a couple of weeks ago; the images below are our first looks at Baby Jones. As you can see she/he still relies on a knapsack full of sustenance during this early stage. She/he is only about 2 cm, and her/his appendages are just starting to take form.

By the way, Dr. Spock said that it’s perfectly normal for expecting parents to have a preference when it comes to the child’s sex, so I don’t feel bad about sharing our partiality with our family and friends. For the record, Katie wants a boy and I want a girl. Oh, and we’re both much too impatient to wait until the baby is born to know the sex.

Image from Raleigh

Urban dirt-biking

I took this post-apocalyptic picture outside Jones Barber Shop in Raleigh last year.

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