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Andrew Lindemann Malone's Internet Playpen |
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Monday, December 25, 2006: Merry Actual Christmas Before I go get my presence and presents on at my parents' house, the Spam-O-Matic would like to wish you and yours the absolute merriest possible of Christmases. Do whatever your family, peeps, etc. do and enjoy it. I'll be brunching on cinnamon rolls and playing with toys, if all goes well. Also my sister and brother-in-law's dog Honey, who is the best dog in the world, will be there, so that will be tons o' fun. • I forgot earlier that I have a review in the paper of the Master Chorale of Washington's Christmas concert today. It does not make the top ten listed below.
Friday, December 22, 2006: Merry Christmas Threeve Because this is the eve of the eve of Christmas Eve! Catchy, huh? That's getting trademarked. Because I want to list them, here are the best concerts I saw in 2006, in order:
While some other concerts I went to were enjoyable, these were the ones that had moments of transcendence. And that's why I like to go to concerts.
Thursday, December 21, 2006: Let the Circle Remain Unbroken Yesterday's review is of the Enso String Quartet's concert at the Library of Congress. The more I think about this concert (and I have been thinking about it a lot, because I am dissatisfied with my review for reasons that remain obscure to me), the more I am puzzled by it. If they play the Romanze in the Dvorak so well, for example, you wouldn't think the slow movement of the Mozart would escape them so completely. But those are the breaks, I suppose. The end result is that I have no idea how good a quartet they are, and I think my review just lays out the data without drawing that inconclusive conclusion, and I'm not sure that was the best thing to do. On the other hand, I was writing on deadline. Other notes:
Tuesday, December 19, 2006: Yet More Reviews One Monday, one today, one tomorrow. Monday's was Gutbucket at the Galaxy Hut, for which no marginalia is really necessary except to note that I was pleased that I came within a standard deviation or so of the mean hipness level at the show. (This reflects a not-particularly-elevated hipness level, not any great change in me.) Today's is the Cathedral Choral Society's "Joy of Christmas" concert, which requires some marginalia:
Tomorrow: Another concert, plus: Andrew wonders why he's alive.
Saturday, December 16, 2006: Happy Hanukah, plus I Play Myself I would like to use these bits 'n' pixels to wish all my Jewish peeps around the world a happy Hanukah. Don't go in for this Christmukkah crap. Keep it real. Also, for some reason I enjoyed doing the playlist yesterday, and since I plan to spend the day around the apartment again, I thought I'd do it again:
Friday, December 15, 2006: Baking Diary, Day B One thing that's making this tremendously easier this year is the size of my new kitchen. I forgot to re-install iPhoto when the hard drive died, so I'm temporarily clueless about how to get a photo onto my computer, but trust me: It's freaking huge. My mom says I have more cabinet space than she does, and she lives in a house. Right now I am baking the toffee-chocolate chip cookies, named by my lovely and talented sister Ellen as her favorite cookie ever. It's going well. I have some snickerdoodle dough chillin' in the fridge, and it will be ready to go once these toffee-chocolates are cooked properly. Before the snickerdoodles go in the oven, I'll put out some butter to soften for the mint chocolate chip cookies. Big wheel keep on turnin'. Later: And it did turn, and all the cookies came out well, except these oatmeal raisin cookies, which I can't tell. I need to have one tomorrow and see what this texture is like. Playlist:
Thursday, December 14, 2006: Baking Diary, Day 1 Once again, I am taking a day off to devote entirely to baking cookies to send to my relatives and friends in far-off places, and the big day is tomorrow. To give myself a leg up on my labors, I am making one batch tonite — specifically, the "Lime-Berry Explosions" that represent a modification of this recipe, but with lime zest, lime juice, dried blueberries, and increased quantities of cranberries and white chocolate chips. When I do it correctly, the lime flavor is a subtle binder for the other flavors and the result is a very sophisticated cookie. (Or at least I think so.) I had documented this on my computer, and then that went away in the hard drive crash, but the modifications I remember are producing the cookies I remember, which is good. I'm still getting used to my new apartment's oven. We had a bit of a rocky start when I first turned the thing on and it began spewing black smoke. I wiped it clean and then it began spewing white smoke. Then I wiped it some more and now it doesn't spew anything. I've made a pie and a few cookies in it, but I'm not confident in how it does its thing yet. So I'm making four old favorite recipes and one new one, rather than the normal 3-2 or 2-3 split. Since my out-of-towners only get these once a year anyway, I assume they are not getting sick of any particular variety. I can't find my normal molasses (Grandma's "Robust," in the green bottle) at either of my walkable grocery stores, so the game plan has changed slightly, but I think it'll be OK. Playlist so far: Rale Micic, Serbia; Haydn Op. 76, Takacs. I can't think of any CDs that have given me more pleasure over the years than the Takacs Quartet playing Haydn. They make me teary-eyed, make me step lively, make me sigh, make me smile. Big Papa Franz Joseph could do it all, and the Takacs know how to show us.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006: Back to What We Do Here's a review of NPR's "A Jazz Piano Christmas" concert. They still don't have their stuff together at NPR's website to say when it will be broadcast, but I believe it would be worth checking back a couple times, as the program will be a good listen. They probably got a better take of Nancy King and Geoffrey Keezer doing "Winter Wonderland," too, though I don't know about Tigram. He'd have to be a fast learner to figure out what he was doing wrong in his number. Anyway, the rest was pretty awesome. Other writing will come.
Thursday, December 8, 2006: Oh, Man If you know me and e-mail me, please send me an e-mail, because I probably don't have your e-mail address anymore. Or let's start this story somewhere else: Here's a review of the University of Maryland Symphony Orchestra that I wrote twice. The first time, the permissions on my computer's hard drive hadn't been irredeemably corrupted, and the second time, they had. The computer had been acting weird for a couple months, so I figured that Apple tech support would help it get back to normal. A series of botched repair jobs later, it's acting normal, only I have no data. Well, that's not entirely true: My sister's friend who does data recovery got most of my pictures and a smattering of Word docs, and I fortuitously discovered a backup that goes back to February 2003. But I don't have and won't have any e-mail from the past. I might be able to get my files from up to December 2004 if certain things work. Other than that, it's all gone. Here are some things I have thought over the past few days:
Because my computer isn't the only thing I've been thinking about. Anyway, I have a newly blankened hard drive to fill up with writing, so here comes fun. This weekend I have at least one review that I have to write, and I'll probably throw together another zillion-word review of the Daedalus Quartet. If you're in the Columbia area, check 'em out Saturday.
Monday, November 27, 2006: Reasons I Like My New Apartment Better Than My Old One (A Partial List)
Wednesday, November 15, 2006: Late OK, here's the review I mentioned earlier, of the wonderful Maria Schneider Orchestra (which is a jazz ensemble! This is a pop review! That was assigned to me through the pop system! I didn't get Chuck Brown, but they gave me this). I think the Lavista review may not have made it to the Post Web site. If it's not there by the time I get my Internet back up and running (target: Nov. 20), I'll just run the text on here. And with that, I prepare to leave the apartment in which I have spent all of my adulthood. It's a weird feeling. The only two states I've been in for any length of time are (a) living in Mom and Dad's house and (b) living here. There's a lot of memories in these walls that I don't own. Soon, doubtless, someone else will live here and make memories of his or her own (I refuse to seriously consider the possibility that two people would try to live in this apartment). I hope they are as rich as mine have been, but much happier. I have a much better chance of having happy memories in the new place, but that's all because of stuff I did here. I dislike discretionary change — when it's a done deal, I can reconcile myself fairly easily, but when I'm the one to make a decision, I'm always inclined to stay the course. This is a new one for me. We'll see how it goes.
Monday, November 13, 2006: So Concertized I wrote a review of a Post-Classical Ensemble concert of music of Mario Lavista I saw on Thursday. It was in the paper on Saturday, but I can't find it on the Post's Web site today. Yes, I am incapable of updating this site promptly. But this time I have an excuse! I was too busy writing this mammoth review of the Chuck Brown show at Strathmore on Friday night. The Funky Meters were also there, but they weren't quite as good, by which I mean, they were bad. You will notice that my review has 400 percent more words than the Post review, which makes it five times as good. (People read in bulk, right?) There's another review tomorrow and then this site is shutting down until I get moved, most of which will happen this weekend. Update coming Nov. 20, if I do in fact get my Internet set up by then. And hopefully the P-C E review will be back up tomorrow so I can link to that too.
Monday, November 6, 2006: Ribbit Ribbit Here's a review of some French jazz. The Post assigned this through the classical system, but it was a jazz concert, and so it was reviewed. 'Twas a fun concert, and I hope the review conveys that.
Wednesday, November 1, 2006: Double Dose I had a review on Monday, which I wasn't able to post because I was going to a concert whose review, in turn, appeared today. Big wheel keep on turnin'. Each review has its separate marginalia: First review: Love's Gonna Get 'Cha
Second review: Made in the U.S.A.
If you think I look Jewish, you've never seen a Jewish person in your entire life. Jewish people have made jokes to me about how non-Jewish I look. Not that I recommend laughing at people ranting in Metro stops, but still.
Thursday, October 26, 2006: Critical Beatdown Regarding my last post, Spam-O-Maticker Mark Knoblauch (a critic himself) points out that criticking has one other noble purpose: "to make the reader think that he's been there, or to let the reader understand what it would have been like to have been there--to recreate the experience." True, and while I occasionally feel moved to do that, I typically don't worry much about it. I blame classical music for making its concerts so visually uninteresting. As much as I try to write vividly about music, I realize that the experience of concertgoing is also a visual one, at the very least. (At Fessenden Ensemble concerts, it's also a taste sensation when you eat the post-concert cookies!) But the visuals for classical music are typically black-clad people doing their best to verrrrry seeeeerrrrrrious. Not anything you want to write about at any length. And then I am always pathologically afraid of coming across as a lech if I were to write something like, for example, "The smokin'-hot violinist may or may not have played the concerto properly; I was too busy wondering whether her low-cut dress was actually going to fall off to notice." (But of course that never happens.) Nevertheless, suitably reminded, I will try to sneak visual cues and other such stuff into my reviews a bit more often. In other correspondence news, Nathan Lincoln-DeCusatis has written about my September 13 post to object that it is in fact appropriate to describe Cuong Vu's music as "vernacular," in that the term is commonly used in the Maryland music program in which he studies to mean improvised, rather than scribbled-out, music. This is a good point - in fact, the best point ever made by any artist who has written me based on something I wrote. (Take lessons, George Colligan!) I think of "vernacular" as meaning "the common language," which avant-garde jazzman Vu certainly is not, but words can mean two things, and it's reasonable for Lincoln-DeCusatis to prefer the interpretation commonly used in his field. So I say "uncle." One thing I am sure we agree on: Duke sucks.
Monday, October 23, 2006: The Realness Here's a review of just a really good concert, except for the solo cantata. The Cantate Chamber Singers reliably deliver the goods. The only way this concert (at least the part sung by the Cantate folks) could have been better would have been if there were a lot of hot young women there, but that's something the Cantate folks probably can't fix by themselves. And Alfred Schnittke! I'm amazed over and over again at the music he wrote. I was amazed when I was a sprout and didn't understand it, and I'm amazed now that I'm a lil' older and kind of do. I hope I was able to adequately communicate my enthusiasm about his Requiem to the concert-review-reading public. The best thing I can do as a reviewer, in my opinion, is to tell people about things they might enjoy that they didn't know about, whether that be music or performers or even venues. It is always my fond wish that open-minded (or impressionable) people are reading when I try to do that.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006: Going to a Go-Go One of the frustrations with being a fan of go-go yet existing completely outside the go-go subculture is that awesome songs get played on the radio and I have no idea what they are, much less whether I could somehow acquire them to play over and over. (Of course, there are also plenty of go-go songs that I know I can't acquire somehow, or at least without spending umpteen dollars for sketchy mix CDs.) Case in point: A few weeks ago, I was driving on the Beltway during a pouring rain at rush hour and consequently going about 10 miles an hour. I was, needless to say, in a traffic-induced foul mood. Then a light came on the radio: a hearty brass lick, followed by some imposing voices saying "Here come the ice cream truck." That happened a couple more times, and I kept waiting for the percussion to come in, but they actually did a little bit of a verse (involving the words "body like soft ice cream") before dropping a gigantic thump. The go-go percussion then burst our of my car speakers in a wildly abundant garden of beats, so many rhythms at once that I just had to lean back and mentally snatch at them as they went by. The horn licks continued unperturbed over the top, and there was some more lyricizing about ice cream and girls with bodies like it. Then the song ended, leaving a gigantic hole in my heart that could only be filled with more percussion and brass. I should have called up the radio station right then and demanded (a) the title and artist and (b) that they play it for the next 30 minutes. But since I was driving, I did not. Now, after probably a solid hour of fruitless Googling (spread over various sessions), I have lived to regret it. Also, I would feel stupid calling up the radio station and asking to hear "that song about the ice cream. It's a go-go song?" Though I may eventually have to do just that. In other me-related news, today I visited the Forest Service's building for a two-hour meeting, after which I made my obligatory visit to animatronic Smokey the Bear in the information center. We had the following conversation:
The tourist in the room was appalled. Sometimes I can't believe I have a job.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006: Axis of Fascinating Instruments Here's a review of an Iranian dude playing with a Turkish dude a mere 10 blocks or so from the White House. I'm just glad the NSA doesn't care about modal harmonies. (Notice how I didn't put any of that into my review. That's called "knowing my audience.") Whatta concert, though! Stuff like this makes it fun. Also: The Tigers are in the World Serious! And the NL will be slugging it out while Joel Zumaya's wrist heals. And they will wear themselves out, and then we will beat them silly. I've been working the nine-hour days lately, which explains (somewhat) the blog paucity. I swear this time for real I will try to update this thing at least twice a week. Maybe. (I'm becoming freaking Terry Teachout, aren't I?)
Monday, October 9, 2006: Blog-Length Sports Digest Thingy Q. Why did Mark Foley want to play for the Washington Redskins? A. Because he heard they have a 700-page playbook. Not that any of the plays the Skins ran against the New York Giants yesterday actually gained much yardage, which you could probably tell from the 19-3 losing score. What a miserable game. Nothing redeeming to take from it except that Jeremy Shockey cost the Giants a touchdown by offensively pass-interfering on a touchdown catch by Amani "It's Not A" Toomer. I have a deep, consuming dislike for Jeremy Shockey. But it wasn't enough (specifically, it was 17 points short). At least one New York team lost this weekend, though. That's right, the Tigers, who three years ago almost had the most losses in modern baseball history, took it to the Yankees and are going to the American League Championship Series after winning 3 games. Yankees partisans are fuming and fulminating and generally blaming everyone, while still operating under the delusional premise that their team, which won 97 games during the regular season, should have dismantled Les Tigres, who won 95. Whatever. Pause for crowing: THE SUBWAY DOESN'T RUN TO THE WORLD SERIES! DETROIT'S WAY IS THE HIGHWAY! THE STEAMROLLER CAME FROM THE MOTOR CITY AND MADE BIG APPLESAUCE! Yankees got owned! Zumaya and Verlander destroyed A-Rod's fragile psyche; then Kenny Rogers, with his assortment of big-breaking junk, and Jeremy Bonderman, with his deadly slider, did the same to the rest of the Yankmes! Yankees go home! Yankees go home! Let's go Tigers! Next up is Oakland, home of Moneyballer Billy Beane and his crew of low-offense, good-defense, good-pitching, underpaid gentlemen. We have a better defense and better offense, and our pitching is as good, so I think we win in 6. In local baseball news, Frank "I Am The Intimidator" Robinson is now out of a job, having been let go by the Nationals, who, unlike the Tigers, will not be playing any more baseball this year. Spam-O-Maticker Robert Kahn and I attended the season finale. It opened with a touching tribute to F. Robby and then fell apart in the second inning, when the Mets slapped Ramon Ortiz around for 6 runs, a lead that held up against the Nats' pitiful flailings. Such is life. Sometimes, when a success would be just and salutary for all involved, we fail anyway.
Tuesday, October 3, 2006: The Detroit Tigers Feel Like Bustin' Loose (Give 'Em the Bridge, Y'all)
Wednesday, September 13, 2006: Let's Go Maryland! I trod a fine line between niceness and meannness in this review of University of Maryland student compositions, which means there is some marginalia:
Saturday, September 9, 2006: Spiking the Haterade No matter how much success Duke's basketball teams enjoy (before crapping out in the tournaments), their football team will always stink. Last weekend, for example, they were shut out by the Richmond Spiders, a Division I-AA team. This was supposed to be their gimme game so that they could have that "1" in the win column before embarking on their ACC schedule. Hahaha hahaha hahahahahahahaha. Don't expect Duke's football coach to be doing AmEx commercials anytime soon. This week they lost 14-13 to Wake Forest (an ACC school) when their last-second field goal attempt was blocked. Does this mean that Richmond is 12 points better than Wake? I'll think some more about that if Maryland loses to Wake as well.
Friday, September 8, 2006: The 28th Anniversary of My Birth I guess I'm not particularly excited about this year's birthday. For one thing, I'm turning 28, a number that does not have a cube-root integer like my previous age. Nor is it prime, like next year's number. The factors include 7, which a lot of people think is lucky, but they also include 4, which is off-puttingly square. (Hiyo!) So that suggests a boring year. But I am excited because I get get to hang with my family tomorrow, and they're making me grilled chicken for dinner. I'm excited that I couldn't think of anything much I really needed for my birthday, because that must mean I have everything I need: a place that pays me money to do good work, a roof over my head (and roaches under my feet!), and all my immediate family and the vast majority of my friends right here in the metropolitan Washington, D.C. area. And I'm excited that I have people who read my site (and link to my images) all over the world. This isn't the burning intensity with which I approached birthdays in my youth, and indeed I speculated at work today that my excitement about birthdays has been approaching zero asymptotically since I turned 12. (Then I spent five minutes trying to figure out how to characterize that equation. Then I actually regulated something. While I was walking home, I returned to the problem, and actually figured out how to characterize it. For all x less than or equal to 12, y = x2; for all x greater than 12, y = 20736/x2. Though this tortured formulation makes the equation continuous at x=12, I couldn't figure out how to do it without the disjunct, meaning that there is a singularity at 12 where you cannot find dy/dx. Who cares, though.) But while I may be less thrilled that I've been alive for another 365 days than I've ever been, I'm also happier to be alive in general than I've ever been. I'll take that trade. I do hope my sister got me a bad-ass keychain, though
Saturday, August 19, 2006: Naval Gazing Here's a review of the U.S. Navy Band concert. The concert was on Monday and the review ran on Wednesday. Why then, pray tell, is the Spam update running on Saturday? It is because I have been running around. In other words, no good reason. Man, I need to stay in more.
Friday, August 11, 2006: Straight-a Outta Roma I wrote a new "In My Changer," a feature I used to do sort of regularly and apparently now want to start doing again, about Mendelssohn's "Italian" Symphony. Let it not be said that I don't know how to grab the eyeballs of the denizens of the Internet!
Friday, August 4, 2006: Utterly Disposable I saw something funny on the back page of the Target circular last week. I have added an arrow to make it clear what that was — not for you, dear reader, but for all the rest of the idiots on the Internet:
Simple(-minded) pleasures are still the best.
Monday, July 25, 2006: While I Was Out
I had a fun vacation, if a bit of an odd one, as I seemed to expect to be able to resolve all the Important Philosophical Issues that have been hanging over my head. Surprise: I did not resolve any Important Philosophical Issues. Oh well. Relaxing is just as important, and I did that, at least.
Friday, July 14, 2006: Anger Us and We'll Impale Our Leaders' Heads on Pikes In honor of Bastille Day, I shall merely link to "Nuthin' But a Gaul Thang." • The problem with allowing people to express their taste is that they might actually do it. TVs were installed in the gym in my apartment building a couple years ago, little TVs for each aerobic machine and a big TV for the weight area, thus shattering the monklike silence in which I had previously enjoyed conducting my workouts. Most people who tune in keep the volume at a reasonable level and watch generally inoffensive things like MTV(which, at the early hour I work out, actually does show videos) or National Geographic specials. One person who comes to the gym as often as I do, though, has a special predilection for the reruns of the show "Mama's Family" that air early in the morning on TBS. In case you have never had the pleasure of seeing an episode of "Mama's Family," I can summarize: Mama is really old, and her children are grown. They live in the South and speak in the most grating accents possible. The children are always doing something stupid, and Mama corrects them by making sarcastic rejoinders to everything they say. Often, what the children say stretches credulity as an utterance but sets up a rejoinder perfectly. The laugh track is like a tidal wave of bile coming out of the television. Did I mention the grating accents? So this is not TV that I like to watch in general, and it's certainly nothing I need to hear while trying to blast my quads to the next level or whatever the heck it is that I do in the gym. But this woman laps it up like nectar, and moreover laps it up at earsplitting volumes, such that even when I am in the middle of my peak period on the elliptical, I can hear the laugh track and the general serrated-edge tones of the dialogue. She and I tend to move from the aerobic machines to the weights at about the same time. Sometimes, someone else is there before us and has already turned on something inoffensive, in which case she lets the TV alone. But just as often, no one's there and she cranks up "Mama's Family." The thing is, there's no way she can actually be watching the show, inasmuch as she's pumping tiny amounts of iron (and then letting the machine fall to rest with a tremendous clatter, startling anyone in the area who doesn't know what to expect); she apparently finds the show's clamor relaxing or (cringe) exciting in an exercise-conducive way. Today, I was in the weight area before she was and decided I just couldn't deal with it this morning. I turned on SportsCenter and began my various pumpings. But the second I moved away from the weight area (to do a few sit-ups), she changed the channel to freaking "Mama's Family." I have been in the gym a lot with this woman, and she has never done this to anyone else. I changed it back to SportsCenter when I was done with my sit-ups, and there were no further changes. But I have no idea why she decided to set a new precedent today. I should probably talk to her at some point rather than continue to nurse all these grievances, but I'm afraid the grievances would come out in an unconstructive rush. ("Just to let you know: Your TV show is dumb. And you should really let the weights down easy rather than just dropping them. And what's up with your doing 30 reps of a tiny weight over a five-inch range of motion?") Anyway, tomorrow is vacation, which for her doubtless means a reprieve from one more person who would malign "Mama's Family." For you, it means a vacation from check-check-checking on my prose. I'll have some on Monday the 24th, probably.
Monday, July 10, 2006: Unharmonious The title does not refer to the concert I reviewed in today's paper, which was quite harmonious indeed. No, it refers to an incident during that concert. You see, at a certain point, the two people sitting behind me became confused about what piece was presently being performed, and they narrated this confusion to each other while musicians were performing. They looked to be retired or nearing it; the man was silver-haired and wearing a slouchy sports jacket, while the woman had dirty-blond hair. That was about all I saw of them. The first time, the man was talking, and I turned around and glared. The second time, I shushed him. The third time, the woman was talking, and I turned around and glared at her. (This all took place in the space of about ten minutes.) Apparently my demanding that his wife be polite was too much for the gentleman. "Hey," he said to me as the organist played the first of his solos. "Lighten up." My instincts took over. "Screw you," I said (I apparently had the profanity governor on). Then I turned exaggeratedly to watch the organist, who was at the keyboard on the right of the church. I let my elbow go way into their pew, and I clenched my fist. The guy shrank backward. I hadn't made a conscious decision to do anything since the last glare. When I realized, a few seconds later, what was going on, I slowly declenched my fist, then removed most of my elbow from their pew space. They were quiet as dormice for the rest of the first half of the program. I moved to another seat at intermission. It's always a little scary when I make threatening moves without having actually, you know, actively decided to do so. Also I probably would not be allowed to review concerts for the Post any more if I had gotten in a fight with the dude. But there is something gratifying about my course of action having proven so effective, I have to say.
Thursday, July 6, 2006: Those Nats Here's a whole bunch of words about the three Washington Nationals games I attended last weekend. I have a feeling that this was more fun to write than it will be to read, but it was a whole lot of fun to write.
Saturday, July 1, 2006: Things I Do To Kill Time at Concerts (A Continuing Series) Special bonus content before I leave! I think the second line sells this one:
Or not.
Friday, June 30, 2006: Can It Be That I Stayed Away Too Long? In which I break my amazing string of not posting anything with a 2000-word essay on how to communicate in the workplace without actually having to listen to anything anyone else is saying. You know you love it. I'm going to be away for the next few days, but I will be writing, and I hope to return with additional content. (Famous last words!)
Friday, June 16, 2006: About Last Night I did an overnight review last night (45 minutes to write!) for the National Symphony Orchestra, which you can read here. You'd think with all that length, I would have been able to capture everything interesting about my concertgoing experience. And I'm sure I did. But here's some marginalia anyway:
Monday, June 5, 2006: B More Adventurous Those of you who live in the greater Baltimore area, peep this: My brother-in-law, Tyler Higgins, is playing a concert with "some of Baltimore's finest up-and-coming experimental improvisors" at the Red Room on Saturday. Why he's on the program I don't know, as Tyler already up and came, beeyotches. [Pause to allow author to clap hands and exclaim "Testify!"] Anyway, I have attested to Tyler's accomplishments in other musical formats, and I am eager to see what he'll do in the solo improv setting, wherein I have not previously heard him. I know there's a thought that I might be biased because he's my brother-in-law, but both he and I know that I wouldn't pretend to like his stuff if I didn't actually like it. You might like it too. In other news, tomorrow is 6/6/06, which means the Antichrist may pay your workplace a visit. You'll be able to recognize the Antichrist in our midst by the complete lack of signs that he is the Antichrist. He'll just be wandering around, blue shirt and slacks, lookin' normal, perhaps even makin' copies. Everything will be going along smoothly right up until the moment he uses the words "synergy," "buy-in," and "scalable" all in one sentence — then he swallows your soul. Fortunately, Jesus has several "combo moves" he can execute against the Antichrist for which the Antichrist has no effective defense, such as the Flaming Scythe Dropkick, the successful completion of which earns Jesus 5000 bonus points in addition to draining one-third of the Antichrist's health points. A couple crucifixes to the face and Jesus moves on to the next level, in which he faces Ralph Nader.
Saturday, May 27, 2006: And I'm Spamtown's Finest You know, I used to think the purpose of spam was to sell me something, or at the very least to advance an ideological position with all the credibility you get by sending an e-mail to a stranger. Today's spam just puzzled me, though: I know you've definetly heard it all before, but this is the real deal on getting rid of the spare , The to poem Champion, the advantage The Tramp and The Bank. In 1916 he moved What are you promising to do? Who do you want me to send money to? What does the tramp have to do with the bank, and why did he move in 1916? Help me help you, obscure spammer!
Thursday, May 25, 2006: Levintra In the past week, I've gotten two spams advertising "generic Viagra." That's not interesting! The interesting thing is that, presumably in order to ease their passage through the spam filters of America, the senders have put the advertisement into an embedded image file and pasted a long passage from Anna Karinena, in text, after the advertisement section of the e-mail. It is a little weird and a little fascinating to read something like "Levin thought of the text, not because he considered himself 'wise and prudent.' He did not so consider himself, but he could not help knowing that he had more intellect than his wife and Agafea Mihalovna, and he could not help knowing that when he thought of death, he thought with all the force of his intellect" right after "Keep in mind - your hypersexuality doesn't depend on the size of your penis."
Tuesday, May 23, 2006: Mortal String Kombat Not really, but it was a competition, and I did review it.
Monday, May 15, 2006: Critical Mass First, here's my review of a good community-orchestra performance by the Prince George's Philharmonic. If we go back one page, we can see Stephen Brookes's review of the Friday night concert by the Daedalus Quartet, as alluded to directly below. You can also go to a completely different website and see Ionarts's take on the event. Three people had three different opinions (albeit generally positive ones)! What a country.
Sunday, May 14, 2006: Flying High I wrote a review of the Daedalus Quartet's Friday-night concert at the Corcoran. You all can write and let me know what you thought, and we can have a productive dialogue. What, you mean you didn't go? You missed something gooooood. Tomorrow we'll see what one of my colleagues thought. Though of course the Daedalus is the official quartet of the Spam-O-Matic, so if said colleague disses the Daedalus, it will be in error.
Thursday, May 11, 2006: Late Here's a review I had published Tuesday. It was a good review of a good concert. I've just been out of the house and thus unable to update the website. Specifically, I went up to Baltimore to watch the Tigers plays the Demons of Angelos. We split, and tonight is rained out due to torrential precipitation that currently is blanketing the road outside my window. Also, due to getting in late from Baltimore, I did not get much sleep either of the last two nights, which may explain why my prose lacks a certain sparkle. Or, really, energy of any kind. We'll see what eight hours horizontal can do.
Thursday, May 4, 2006: Evidence Supporting Continued Misanthropy
Points for humanity: Certain coworkers, my supervisor who thinks my jokes are funny enough to waste a little time with, the concierge who held the door open for me when I came home with my groceries from Giant, everyone who didn't bother me today at work.
Saturday, April 26, 2006: In Which I Go Back to Reviewing Other People I wrote a pop review for today's paper, specifically a review of Lila Downs' Strathmore concert. The Post mistakenly included this concert on the list of concerts for classical reviewers, and I took it figuring that if I did well, I could do more pop stuff, and if I did poorly, no one would blame the classical reviewer for not knowing what he was doing. It is my goal now to advance sufficiently in the pop realm so that I can review the Chuck Brown concert at Strathmore this November (with the Funky Meters, no less). Y'all should also check out the Daily Bacon at Wizznutzz. More incites than you can shake Wes Unseld's whuppin' stick at! I'm one of the four interns; I'll pretend that you can't tell which one. In case you are wondering, I'm still misanthropic and lethargic, although significantly more chipper about it.
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All this tasty writing ©2002-11 by Andrew Lindemann Malone. All rights reserved. |
