Southern Bookman

Bernadette Peters thrills Atlanta audience with exploration of Sondheim, Rodgers and Hammerstein songbooks

Bernadette Peters in an appearance with the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra Saturday night took an ecstatic audience on a rousing tour of Stephen Sondheim and Rodgers and Hammerstein classics. 

Sondheim considered the Broadway star the best interpreter of his music. Performing a deep selection from Sondheim's songbook, Peters displayed the acting and singing brilliance that Sondheim praised. She made each song a character portrait evoking its original musical.

At age 76, Peters possesses a strong voice and dynamic energy.

In a shimmering silver dress, she made one departure from the Sondheim and Rodgers and Hammerstein menu with a dazzling, sexy performance of the Peggy Lee standard "Fever," in which she perilously climbed stairs in her high heels to recline on music director Tedd Firth's piano.

Swinging her gorgeous legs, Peters echoed Lee's resonant voice, ranging from seductive low notes to brash higher registers.

Firth's piano enhanced the emotional complexity of Peters' more intimate songs. He also conducted the ASO with flair. The orchestra's musicians seemed to enjoy the swinging freedom of playing jazzy songs while smoothly backing slower-paced ballads.

Drummer Cubby O'Brien of Mouseketeer fame and bass player Kevin Axt from Peters' band joined the ASO. Axt and O'Brien gave a pulsing beat to Peters' "Fever" performance, building its dramatic momentum.

Peters reached one of the evening's high points with her aching interpretation of Rodgers and Hammerstein's "It Might as Well Be Spring" from the movie "State Fair." Hitting the song's high notes with crystal clarity, Peters uncovered the poetic richness of Hammerstein's simple lyrics.

Remembering Elaine Stritch, her fellow accomplished Sondheimian, Peters said farewell to her ardent admirers with thrilling performances of "Send in the Clowns" and "Being Alive."

Peters with her soaring voice and emotional range turned Sondheim's anthems of remorse and despair into affirmations of the human spirit, night music for the soul.

 

 

As excitement soars in Paris, heartbroken Taylor Swift fans mourn in Vienna

The joy of the Paris Olympics strikingly contrasts with the sadness of Taylor Swift fans filling the streets of Vienna.

Bereft young "Swifties" mourned the cancellation of three concerts they came to the Austrian capital to revel in.

Officials called off Swift's appearances in Vienna despite the thwarting of a terrorist plot targeting the singer's fans. 

Three adolesent boys were arrested for planning to explode a car bomb or use knives outside 65,000-seat Ernst Happel stadium to "kill as many people as possible" during concerts Thursday or Friday, according to the main suspect, a 19-year-old. The young males reportedly had been indoctrinated by the Islamic terrorist groups ISIS and Al-Qaida.

A crowd of 30,000 onlookers were expected to gather outside the venue during the concerts.

Swift still plans to perform in five concerts at London's Wembley Stadium from Aug. 15-19 to close the European leg of her record-setting Eras tour.

While the Swifties commiserated with each other on the Viennese streets, crowds packed the stadiums and arenas for the Paris Olympics.

Under heavy security, the Paris Games have gone on without major trouble, outside of an unsuccessful effort to disrupt train service on the Olympics' first day.

As with the Olympics, the Swifties came from across the globe for an unforgettable experience. Sadly, their joy was stolen by the fantasies of three deranged young males.

 

 

 

 

Patsy Cline's "I Fall to Pieces" and Brenda Lee's "I'm Sorry" still touch the heart

I was transmitted for a happy few moments Tuesday afternoon to a time when American singers dominated the radio, before the arrival of the Beatles.

Brenda Lee's "I'm Sorry" and Patsy Cline's "I Fall to Pieces" played one after the other on satellite radio as I drove down Roswell Road through Sandy Springs during a raging rainstorm. 

As their timeless voices touched my heart, I imagined myself in a fantasy movie in which I returned to my youth.

Telling similar stories of romance gone wrong, the Nashville Sound classics were both produced by Owen Bradley for Decca Records. Each features the soulful background voices of the Jordanaires and the same set of Nashville house musicians.  

Lee was only 15 when she warbled her lament of longing and regret. The record company delayed its 1960 release of the song written by Dub Albritton and Ronnie Self, fearing reprisals from the era's morality police for having such a young child express adult themes.

Released at last, "I'm Sorry," with Lee's spell-binding vocal recitation, rose to No. 1 on the pop charts, although it appeared on the flip side of the more uptempo "That's All You Gotta Do," which reached No. 6 on the Hot 100.

Cline was  28 and a rising Nashville star when she recorded "I Fall to Pieces," a belated crossover hit on the country and pop charts.  The song written by Hank Cochran and Harlan Howard was at first ignored after its release in 1961, but began receiving airplay and slowly rose on the charts thanks to a successful sales campaign by the record label to country and pop DJs.  

While the 30-year-old Cline was killed in a 1963 plane crash, Lee's still going strong at age 79. She recently starred in a video of her classic "Rocking Around the Christmas Tree,"  a You Tube holiday hit last year.

Cline and Lee's operatic voices transform ordinary love songs into dramatic stories of passion and desire.

 

 

Writer Erik Reece follows author Harry Middleton's fly-fishing quest

Writer Harry Middleton like French philosopher Simone Weil found spiritual enlightenment from blue-collar work.

Middleton, whose devoted fans revere his books on fly-fishing, worked as a garbage man in suburban Birmingham on his last job. He died in 1993 at age 44, suffering a heart attack while swimming with his family. 

Battling severe depression throughout his life, what he called "the gut-bucket blues," Middleton went into a tailspin after his firing as a columnist for Southern Living magazine. He previously wrote for Louisiana Life magazine.

A graduate of Northwestern State University in Natchitoches, La., and recipient of a master's degree in western history from LSU, Middleton in his last days also worked as a factory janitor and grocery store stocker.

In his book "The Bright Country," Middleton expresses affection for his fellow sanitation workers and gives a heart-rending account of futilely seeking treatment for his depression. He rivals Weil as a writer who seeks spiritual fulfillment in everyday work.

Middleton's most fervent praise comes from fly-fishing acolytes who consider him one of the best chroniclers of the sport as a mystical quest.

The little-known writer receives an overdue homage in the current issue of "Garden & Gun" magazine, which consistently publishes compelling articles on Southern culture, branching out to places outside of the region that have a Southern connection.

Writer and University of Kentucky professor Erik Reece's "Deep Creek Communion" follows the paths traveled by Middleton in the  book "On the Spine of Time: A Flyfisher's Journey Among Mountain People, Streams & Trout," which details a fishing trip Middleton took across the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

Published in 1991, "On the Spine of Time" describes Middleton's encounters with colorful characters and presents philosophical reflections on the journey from Abrams Creek on the park's western boundary to Big Creek on the East.

In the Garden & Gun article, Reece and his cousin Tye return to the places that Middleton visited. Reece cites relevant passages from "On the Spine of Time" and gives his own vivid impressions of the park's natural beauty. Gorgeous oil paintings by artist Gordon Allen illustrate the article.

I imagined Harry's spirit guiding Reece and his cousin toward their "deep communion."

 

Farewell, Clarence "Frogman" Henry, who wrote and sang R&B classic "Ain't Got No Home"

Clarence "Frogman" Henry's 1956 hit "Ain't Got No Home" is one of the essential classics of New Orleans rhythm and blues.

Recorded at Casimo Matassa's famed recording studio, the song glimmers with joy. The song is a tour de force, combining Henry's virtuoso vocal performance with the horn section's New Orleans rhythm that seductively turns again and again above a driving drumbeat.

Henry's deceptively simple lyrics trace classic themes of loneliness and searching for home.

The singer portrays a "lonely boy," a girl and a frog who comically lament not having a home or family, shifting from his normal voice to an exaggerated girl's falsetto and the frog's guttural growl. Henry's echoing "ooooooo" chorus delivers one of the most exciting sequences in American popular music.

One of the last members of New Orleans' influential era of rhythm and blues in the 1950s and early '60s, Henry died Sunday at age 87 from complications of back surgery. He had been scheduled to perform at the 2024 Jazz and Heritage Festival.

Henry also recorded the top 10 hits "I Don't Know Why But I Do" and "You Always Hurt the One You Love," both in 1961. He also opened for the Beatles at several stops in their 1964 U.S. tour, including an appearance at his hometown City Park Stadium, now Tad Gormley Stadium.

The British invasion led by the Beatles ended the dominance of R&B on the hit record charts. Henry remained popular performing with his band at New Orleans clubs.

"Ain't Got No Home" found a second life in movie soundtracks, including Martin Scorsese's "Casino" and Barry Levinson's "Diner."

Henry's performance gives the song the universal appeal of a folk tale or fable. The music invites listeners to laugh and dance.

 

Poetry blossoms as National Poetry Month arrives

Poetry's popularity has risen, as other arts decline.

Once poetry's readership had fallen so low that the American Academy of Poets in 1996 declared April National Poetry Month to promote the genre.

The Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks led many grieving readers to seek solace in poetry.

While the Internet has devastated newspapers, magazines and publishing, it's spurred the poetry revival. Poets publish their work online without needing to go through literary journals or book publishers. Readers have easier access to poets' work. 

Poetry books are now regularly reviewed in The New York Times Sunday Book Review and elsewhere. Print publications like the New York Review of Books, the London Review of Books, the Times Literary Supplement, the Atlantic and Harper's publish more poetry.

Several poets have written best-sellers, receiving the attention once given to novelists and non-fiction writers. New poets keep appearing who write exciting, inspiring work. 

While the theater, classical music, jazz and novels lose followers, poetry thrives.

 

Bill Evans documentary a chronicle of lost time

The documentary "Bill Evans, Time Remembered," held special meaning for me.

Producer Bruce Spiegel's compelling 90-minute biography of the acclaimed jazz pianist brought back memories of Baton Rouge.

Growing up in Louisiana's capital, I knew Evans' brother, Harry, and his family. Bill and Harry are buried together in Baton Rouge's Roselawn Cemetery.

The brothers studied music at Southeastern Louisiana University in Hammond, La., after abused childhoods in New Jersey.

While Bill moved to New York City for a career as one of the most eminent jazz composers and performers from the 1950s through the 1970s, Harry ran the music program for the Baton Rouge schools.

Harry's wife, Pat, who later became Louisiana's leading advocate for women's rights and a successful manager of political campaigns, began her career hosting a pioneering children's program on my father's TV station.

Also a fine pianist and composer, Harry gave Baton Rouge a glimpse of urban sophistication, performing with his quartet in nightclubs and on TV.  His wonderful performances are available on YouTube.

When I first discovered Bill Evans' music, I didn't know that he was Harry's brother, or that I was a high school classmate of his niece, the inspiration for his classic "Waltz for Debby."

Bill Evans, rivaling Duke Ellington, composed ethereal music that transcends jazz. He made a significant contribution to Miles Davis' monumental "Kind of Blue" and recorded a number of classic albums, such as "Sunday at the Village Vanguard."

As "Time Remembered" sadly outlines, Evans created his music while enmeshed in an incurable heroin addiction. Over the years, he suffered homelessness and was unable to perform because of the disease.

According to the film, he often shot up before taking the stage with his quartet. Pictures of Evans hunched over his piano capture the severe pain that accompanied his music.

Harry Evans also battled demons. Suffering from schizophrenia, he took his own life.

Before leaving Baton Rouge, I saw Harry one night in the Capitol House Hotel bar downtown. I'll always be haunted by the sadness of his eyes.

 

 

Farewell, Melanie, who performed at Woodstock

Melanie was one of the brave musicians who performed at Woodstock with nothing but a guitar, a smile and a song.

"I didn't have a band, I didn't have a roadie," she recalled in an interview.

Like John Sebastian, Joan Baez and Richie Havens, Melanie charmed the crowd of 500,000 with her minimalistic performance. She overcame horrible stage fright to deliver one of the festival's most memorable moments.

One of the most under-rated artists of the 1960s and 1970s, Melanie Safka died Tuesday at age 76 of an undisclosed illness, according to her family. She had been recording an album of cover songs, "Second Hand Smoke," for Cleopatra Records.

A young, relatively unknown young woman, she traveled to Max Yasgur's farm with her mother, Polly.  Before performing, she wanted to escape, but the stage manager said "you're on," so she took the stage. Before performing, she'd had an out-of-body experience, but she quickly connected with the crowd.

As she sang and played her acoustic guitar, a heavy rain fell. The crowd had been told to light candles to hold off the bad weather, one of the festival's charming magical fantasies.

"By the time I finished my set, the whole hillside was a mass of little flickering lights," she remembered.

That inspired her first major hit, the gospel-inflected "Lay Down: Candles in the Rain." She later reached the top of the charts with the frank expression of female sexual desire, "Brand New Key," one of the era's landmark songs. Her cover of the Rolling Stones "Ruby Charts" also reached the best-seller charts.

Fighting the sexism of the music industry, she founded "Neighborhood Records."  She was one of the first women to start a record label.

I never was a fan of hers, but her death caused me to revisit her songs, which hold up well. If released, "Second Hand Smoke" will be her 32nd album.

Over the years, the utopian peace and love of the upstate New York music festival as expressed in Joni Mitchell's anthem "Woodstock" has given way to destructive conservative politics, the advance of climate change, and the corporate domination of elections.

One of Melanie's best songs expresses the loss of the idealistic Woodstock spirit, "Look What They've Done to My Song, Ma."

Art critic Karen Wilkin displays knowledge, discernment

Karen Wilkin must be America's busiest arts critic.

A light of recognition flashed when I read Wilkin's Wall Street Journal review Thursday of the current Camille Claudel exhibition at the Art Institute of Chicago.

That's the second Wilkin essay I've seen this week: My recently arrived Hudson Review contains Wilkin's roundup of exhibitions at New York galleries. Proudly calling herself an independent critic and art curator, Wilkin also writes monthly for the New Criterion.

Wilkin's reviews display a learned understanding of aesthetic value and artistic technique. She has a gift for describing paintings and sculptures so that the reader sees them in his or her imagination.

The Wall Street Journal piece affirms the importance of Claudel, Auguste Rodin's muse, lover and artistic partner. The early 20th century sculptor has been undervalued, like so many other women artists.

Showcasing her critical acumen, Wilkin proclaims Claudel's "The Waltz" as a masterpiece of vision and technical realization.

Wilkin concludes that the later, veiled version of the work, shown in an accompanying photograph, enhances Claudel's artistry. The sculptor added the veils to the stark sculpture showing a man and woman in an intimate embrace after its original version was removed because of controversy over its explicit sexuality.

As the Claudell piece abundantly displays, Wilkin is an educator as well as a critic.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Smithsonian's "Biography of a Phantom" details musicologist "Mack" McCormick's Robert Johnson quest

Troubled musicologist and folklorist Robert "Mack" McCormick called his massive collection of blues artifacts "the monster."

Following McCormick's death of esophageal cancer in 2015 at age 85, the Smithsonian Institution in Washington acquired his archive.

The files include 590 reels of sound recordings, which now reside with the Smithsonian's Folkways label. 

McCormick amassed 165 boxes of material that total more than 70 cubic feet of unpublished manuscripts, original interviews and research notes, thousands of photographs and negatives and playbills, posters, maps and business records.

The material is housed in the Smithsonian's National Museum of American History, which recently exhibited McCormick's recorded interviews with Lightnin' Hopkins, Mance Lipscomb and other blues artists.

McCormick was a nationally known member of the "blues mafia," an eccentric group of white males obsessed with the black blues artists who made pioneering records in the 1920s and 1930s.

While McCormick's stockpile of artifacts overwhelmed his home in Houston, the self-taught musicologist sought to write the first definitive biography of  Mississippi blues legend Robert Johnson as McCormick battled mental illness, financial difficulties and health problems.

From 1969 through 1975, McCormick visited small towns in rural Mississippi, knocking on doors and visiting pool halls and small cafes to talk to elderly black people who knew or were related to "the king of the Delta blues." 

MCormick also traveled to Memphis, small towns in Louisiana and Arkansas, and Washington, D.C. seeking details about Johnson's brief, dynamic life.

While McCormick never completed his major Johnson book, he turned to writing a first-person narrative about his journeys into the Delta. He kept revising the book-length manuscript through the years.

McCormick's dream of book publication has been realized with the release earlier this year of "Biography of a Phantom: A Robert Johnson Blues Odyssey" by Smithsonian Books.

The Smithsonian has also released "Playing for the Man at the Door, Field Recordings From the Collection of "Mack" McCormick, 1958-1971," a three-CD, six LP set that includes a 128-page book of photographs and essays from blues scholars.

John W. Troutman, curator of music and musical instruments at the National Museum of American History, edited "Biography of a Phantom," compiled from McCormick's manuscripts.

The book portrays the virtuoso musicianship, community dances and agricultural rituals of southern blacks, which endured despite poverty, racial violence and white supremacy.

McCormick also analyzes the Delta's cotton economy, which he documents developed after the Civil War and the end of slavery. Instead, blacks were forced into oppressive sharecropper arrangements with white owners of huge plantations, which were really small towns with stores and entertainment centers.

Johnson, who mainly performed in plantation homes and rural "juke joints," gained international fame with the 1961 release of his handful of recordings, "The King of the Delta Blues." His work inspired a generation of white musicians, ranging from Eric Clapton, Mick Jagger and John Lennon to Bruce Springsteen.

The book raises troubling issues of cultural appropriation, including by the Smithsonian itself. Record companies and white scholars have profited at the expense of black musicians and their families, which Troutman details.

An intriguing section of "Biography of a Phantom" describes McCormick's unsuccessful effort to solve the crime of Johnson's death. Johnson died at age 27 in rural Mississippi, poisoned by either a jealous girlfriend or a lover's jealous husband or boyfriend.

The increasingly mentally ill McCormick in later life falsely claimed to have identified Johnson's killer. In "Phantom," he gives a chilling fictional account of how Johnson might have been poisoned by someone bringing him whiskey during a performance.

While the book portrays McCormick as a perceptive, resourceful investigator with a deep appreciation of black creativity, Troutman in an afterword reveals the paranoia, depression and manic periods that plagued McCormick in later life.

Troutman also gives disturbing details of McCormick's threatening, duplicitous and fraudulent interactions with Johnson's two half-sisters,whom he found living in suburban Washington, D.C.

As Troutman notes, the phantom of the book's title applies to McCormick as much as the blues singer.