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A Tale Of Ill Will May 14, 2009

Posted by The Typist in Toulouse Street.
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2 comments

Dear Louisiana Philharmonic Orchestra,

You don’t get it, do you.

Earlier this week I got emails from You Tube informing me that your organization requested two very-low-fidelity excerpts of the 2008 Jazz Fest performance of Terence Blanchard’s A Tale of God’s Will be taken down.
Both ere posted there so that I could embed them in two blogs posts, one as an update to a post pimping Terence Blanchard’s performance with the LPO while I worked on a second post, a glowing personal review of the event.

It’s sad that an organization that has struggled terribly in the recent past would essentially waste time chasing down my crappy little camera videos, which I had put up on You Tube only so I could embed them in posts promoting and praising your collaboration with Terence Blanchard.

Some people just don’t get this new media thing, and cling to the Digital Millennium Copyright Act and other protections like someone cowering behind a triple locked door thinking that will solve the crime problem outside, thinking it will save their little corner of the music industry. It will not. Instead, you spurned my small act of promotion for your participation in this event.

Hell, you’re not even the copyright holder. If Terence Blanchard had complained, I would feel a bit better, but would probably write to ask him why. He probably has more sense that to yank my two tiny, tinny recordings out of what is otherwise a glowing review of the event.

If the Jazz & Heritage Festival had done it, well, I’ve said enough bad things about their management, and using my $100 camera to capture two minutes excerpts of Jazz Fest performances explicitly violates their policies. I would not be surprised even though they would also be spurning free publicity from the one part of the public media that is actually growing in reach year by year while television, radio and the prints shrivel.

Fine. I have removed the embeds for these, and I repeat myself, very low fidelity video excerpts (placed per my statement of Fair Use below on the right) from the posts We Will Drown the Bitch in Beauty and A Tale of God’s Will and replaced them with more of my own still photography which is explicitly allowed by the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival. And I will remove any references to the LPO from those posts, lest you come after me for the unauthorized reproduction of your name.

If you and the RIAA and others (the Associated Press comes to mind lately) think you can quash reasonable fair use by bloggers, good luck with that. The Internet was designed to survive a nuclear war. I think we can survive you.

Your’s Truly,

The Big Scary Blogger Trying To Steal Your Soul with a $100 Canon

A Tale of God’s Will May 3, 2008

Posted by The Typist in 504, 8-29, Federal Flood, Flood, Jazz Fest, je me souviens, New Orleans, NOLA, Toulouse Street, We Are Not OK.
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5 comments

Today Terence Blanchard led his quintet, with faces as solemn as morticians’, in a joyful noise together with a backing orchestral group selections of his A Tale of God’s Will (A Requiem for Katrina). It was an Odd moment for Jazz Fest (and so perhaps our favorite here on Toulouse Street). I saw two tributes so far, one for Willie “Tee” and Earl Turbington and a show featuring young students of Alvin Batiste. Both were joyful celebrations of the musicians honored, music interspersed with stories and spoken word tributes. They were perfectly in the tradition of a city where, once we have buried the deceased, the parade begins.

Blanchard’s recital this afternoon was of another character altogether. It was more like the full funeral package, with all of the the sadness and solemnity of the service and the recession from the church and march to the cemetery. The Reverend-esque Blanchard spoke of the deceased and offered an excellent homily.There was his tale of boat rescuers, of people being taken out told to be quiet so the people left behind that trip might not hear them, told to cover their children’s eyes as they passed through an area full of dead bodies, introduced the piece “Funeral Dirge”.

His homily was on the importance of Lee’s film, When The Levees Broke. He told the tale of his mother asked by Spike Lee to let him film her first return to her ruined home, of how he warned her what having a full film crew following her might mean at such a difficult and delicate moment, of how proud he was that she insisted. People, his mother told him, need to know what happened down here. This led into the piece “Dear Mom”.

When they were not playing, Blanchard and his group were as serious as their subject, and as the music they composed. It seemed fitting for the piece of music a friend of mine told me before the show was the one he would put on when he felt compelled to escape his home on the sliver by the river to drive around Gentilly, sometimes checking on homes he had gutted to see if any have made progress. When he does this, he said, he will sometimes bawl like a baby.

At the first orchestral passage, Blanchard reached up to his face and wiped with his fingers just beneath his glasses as if to wipe away tears, a motion I last saw on a jazz stage at a Red Cross benefit in Fargo, N.D., after New Orleans trumpeter Marc Braud spoke of recovering his instrument as the rest of that band played “Do You Know What It Means”.

The audience I could see (and I was rapt and could not turn my head away from the stage) were just as transported. The WWOZ DJ who sat in front of me was not the outgoing, crowd-working celebrity I had seen in the tent and up on stage announcing the rest of the day, but sat solemn as a sphinx. The other stage announcer, a man in a red t-shirt and dreadlocks, sat at the foot of the stage looking not at the musicians but stared straight ahead into some private place. A woman came and sat beside him and put her arm around him.

As Blanchard spoke and the musicians played, the rain that had held off all day finally broke in torrents, as if the music had moved not just a few thousands in this tent on this day but had seized the hearts of the heavenly host and moved them to tears as well as they considered the Odd mix of pain and beauty that is God’s Will.

It was also, as I promised Friday, a time of joy. As the band wailed through the beautiful Ashe and the straight ahead jazz numbers that ended the concert, the orchestra musicians who had sat at attention in their best, serious concert poses, began to be transported by the music as well. The first violin began to show a shy smile, and to bob her head in time as members of the audience around me did. An incredulous cello in a John Brown beard divided his attention between an incredible bass solo and watching the drummer. When Blanchard called on the audience to help him by taking of the chant “This is a tale of God’s will” from the album’s opening cut, we were all transported without moving to the Gospel Tent and the moment of redemption many of us had come for arrived at last.

As I had hoped, Blanchard’s quintet had drowned the bitch in beauty and flooded the streets with tears of joy.


Also, don’t miss the podcast interview which Blanchard’s team (he mentioned bringing in his personal sound man and tour manager to run the boards) had put up the very same evening.

N.B. Fixed numerous typos. Must not try to post when dead tired and trying to rush out the door to the Fairgrounds. Thanks G.P.

Last update: here’s another camera video of an excerpt of Ashe’.

Update 5-12-09 Based on a notice from You Tube that the Louisiana Philharmonic Orchestra objected to these small, low-fidelity excerpts I shot with my $100 Cannon from 100 feet away, I’m removing the video. In fact, I’m going to go back and edit out references crediting the LPO with participation in this performance and will simply refer to them as “the orchestra”.