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mwcowan · 5 years ago

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Mark and Georgia’s Big Trip

Chapter Fourteen – Happy Easter!

It’s Easter morning as I write this, still Saturday evening to you in the States. It’s very quiet here as I suppose it is for all of you. I think this is especially a shock for the Philippines as Holy Week is one of the biggest celebrations of the year. Normally all of the Philippines, except maybe restaurants, resorts, and hotels, is closed down for the whole week and everyone is off work or school. A country-wide party, with many traveling for visits with family, or to take a special vacation. It’s normally the busiest week of the year here at Kawayan Cove, filled to capacity and with a daily schedule of family events, special menus, etc.. I’d looked forward to seeing this different face, but just like for you, it’s quiet as we maintain our quarantine. We’re just planning a relaxed day, and maybe cook a few special dishes (and in Filipino style much more than necessary)! We hope you are all still healthy and safe and have a wonderful day!

We’re just hanging out, we hope in relative safety, finding things to do around the house. I’ve heard from a few of you that you’ve finally had time to get around to cleaning out your closets and things like that, but being in a brand-new house our closets haven’t gotten to that point yet. And if they did, we have someone to do it for us… as I found out when Georgia decided to have Pina rearrange her closet and I suddenly found I’d lost half of mine!

Jungle Arts and Crafts

Got Georgia some coconut shells, and she potted plants in them. So boring…

Although my craft efforts were slowed somewhat as I had to make more tomato cages, I’ve had time to complete more wind chimes as well. Here are my two favorites hanging from our Mambog tree – the one on the left wins for artistic merit as I like the clam shell for the ‘wind catcher’ and the bonker is a round-ish piece of coral. Not the best chime though as the clam shell is pretty heavy and it takes a pretty strong gust for this one to chime. The one on the right wins for most musical. I used smaller bamboo, and cut the lengths in ½” intervals to make sort of a scale, then hung them in a line with a horizontal bamboo bonker. This one makes a nice higher-pitched chime and is very active in a light breeze.

I got back to the “boo” drumset. If you remember, on my second try I produced a pleasantly tuned drum. Not sure what it’s tuned to, but it’s pleasant. I thought about the variables though (minimally bamboo diameter and shape, thickness, weight, tongue length and width) and concluded that it would be nearly impossible (with my available tools, not to mention my ears) to actually ‘tune’ a set to specific or even relative notes. So, I decided that I could make a giant wind chime instead – if I could make six or so and hang them so that the bonker strikes each drum in the right spot I’d have a real nice, mellow chime. I set out to make a few more drums but I found another variable, and I have no idea what it is. If I follow the guidelines for tongue length, I find some drums just don’t seem to resonate no matter what I do. Maybe there are cracks in the body I can’t see? Also I’ve had more than one crack after I’ve made the cuts for the tongue. So, at the moment, after 8 tries, I have only two with nice tones, one that’s almost there, and 5 failures. Oh well, I have plenty of bamboo. And time.

One project that I haven’t yet shared is this table. It started with a large pot we picked up back in the days when we could still drive around. We put it on the small deck outside the guest bedrooms as a decoration, but then thought we could make it into a little table by having a glass top made. Next step was to build a ‘false bottom’ inside the pot a few inches from the top, grab a bucket of sand from the beach, and display the shells we’ve collected from the beach here and around the Philippines. Note the white cowry in the middle, which I found in Kawayan Cove. That’s its natural color (it’s not sun-bleached), and is really a beautiful shell, translucent pearly white with a purplish undertone. Its common name is the egg cowry (has a Latin name of “ovum-something”). Unfortunately it’s not rare, but it’s a nice centerpiece for our table. This is our favorite place for our morning coffee.

Phil Pharming

We’ve also been doing a lot of gardening, both decorative and functional. For the decorative part, all nurseries here are closed of course, but that hasn’t stopped us from taking walks with pruning shears in hand. We’ve picked many cuttings of plants and trees compliments of our neighbors (it’ll all regrow before they can get here again!) and are rooting and planting them around the yard. In the absence of our landscaper we’re making good progress at a very affordable price. Maybe more on our decorative gardens in a future chapter.

It’s also been time to plant a lot of our vegetable seedlings. Since the area we’ve designated as our main veggie garden is still unusable because of the incomplete landscaping, we’ve been planting at various places in and around the homestead. Removing a strip of grass from the bottom and side of the back yard gave me a place to put bell peppers, jalapenos, zucchini, tomatoes, and basil. Note those fine jungle tomato cages!

Ranny’s utilized a spot around a large taluto tree which grows right smack on our property line (we diverted a retaining wall around the tree to save it). Here he has camote (sweet potato), lemongrass, green beans, and on the outside (neighbor’s property) some cucumbers. On the other side of the house (on another neighbor’s property) he’s growing bok choy and varieties of bell peppers and chilis. He’s quite a pharmer!

The Weather, it’s a-Changin’

When we got here in January, we had consistent winds from the west and southwest, with mild temperatures (mid to high 80’s), low humidity, little rain, and puffy white clouds. These are the characteristics of Amihan, or the northeast monsoon. At this time, the winds blow clockwise around a stationary high northeast of the Philippines, drawing cool air from Siberia and Manchuria and blowing it across the Philippines from the southwest.

For a few weeks the winds were confused, back and forth, and a couple times not blowing at all which produced some pretty warm (up to 95 deg.) and humid days, and the “orange ball sinking into the sea but otherwise featureless” sunsets. But the winds are now settling into blowing from the northeast or east, signifying the coming of Habagat, the southwest monsoon. The high has moved southwest and the circulating airflow brings warmer, moister air from the equator across Southeast Asia and the Philippines. Habagat is the hotter, more humid season, by June-July it becomes the rainy season, by September-October the typhoon season. Here on the west coast we see the winds as having changed from an onshore to an offshore pattern, and in the last week we’ve started to have afternoon rain showers, which are welcome. With the breezes the temperatures have moderated again, with consistent highs of 89 +/- 1 degrees. Inland it will be getting hotter and more humid, but here by the ocean it should remain comfortable. As long as we don’t run out of San Miguel.

With the afternoon showers come some clouds, which have given us back our gorgeous sunsets. It was hard to pick Sunset of the Week, but here’s my favorite.

Happy Easter everyone, take care, stay healthy!

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throughthedirt · 6 years ago

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Season 1: Chapter Nine

Previous Chapter — First Chapter

Miles

It didn't matter that I was just shy of turning 44 years old. The University of Oregon campus was nearly 300 acres of property housing nearly 23,000 students from around the world. Sure, the majority were teens and young adults, but there was no shortage of older individuals seeking education. More so, I didn't have to be a student. I could be a teacher, a maintenance worker, the IT guy, even a fuckin' janitor. For all anyone knew, I belonged here. And the way I walked through those grand, window-framed doors - people knew. I had a purpose. Showing no signs of hesitation, fear, or confusion, I waltzed my way throughout the campus. For nearly an hour, I roamed the campus freely and without even batting an eyelash to any other person. I was mostly ignored by those who did notice me. But for most, it was like I didn't even exist - just like the rest of them. I was just another body in a mass of humans. But I was here for a reason, and that was to fulfill a job and keep a promise; an agreement that got me freedom in 6. Kyle Turner. Kyle fucking Turner. "Fuckin' football prick raped my niece and got off scot-free," as Correctional Lieutenant Dave Ward would say. The very first words of his that changed the course of my history at Oregon State Pen. And I had read the reports, the articles, the media frenzy - all in prison. I knew what he had done, and he was guilty. But a fully-paid scholarship and a hell of a lot of "hush-money" got him nothing. Not even a smack on the wrist. He walked. Went free. And Ward's niece? Well, things didn't go so great for her. Fearing him, she refused her admittance into UofO, afraid she would see him again. So the fucker had to die. And now it was finally time.

Approaching the glass doors of the Performance Center, I made a fatal mistake. Reaching my hand out to pull on the handle, the door stayed shut. It creaked as I tried to open it - but it was locked. "Uh, hello?" A large football player called to me in his confusion, his mouth agape and his eyes squinted as he made his approach. He was as heavy as he was tall; his long, afro-style hair alone adding inches to his height. "This building is for authorized personnel only..." He said to me, pulling a plastic card from behind him and slipping it through the swipe-pad beside the door. The pad flashed green and the door clicked. Unlocked. This place was advanced, way more security than I could have ever imagined. University of Oregon had changed in the last 6 years. Turning to him, I gave a toothy grin and begin to chuckle. "Boy do I feel old, huh." He looked at me, cautiously as he stood before the door. But I didn't let him disappear into the building before I extracted needed information. "I'm actually lookin' for someone - maybe you can help me..." I iterated, "One of your football mates, Kyle Turner." The player gave me a saucy eye glare. "What about him?" Pausing, I conjured the biggest load of shit I could muster up in 0.2 seconds. "My niece, you know-" I started to chuckle, so much so that it interrupted my speech. "Ah man, this is embarrasing on her part, but she's... she's a HUGE fan of his. And I mean HUGE. She has posters of him all over her room, you know?" "Uh-huh..." Little interest from him. Only suspicion. But I didn't let him get another word in. "I mean she's just nuts for college football. Strange for a girl, no? I guess the world is changin' and I'm far behind. Heh, heh, heh." I chuckled again, trying to fluster the boy with too much information for him to process. "But ANYWAYS -" I continued, "Her birthday's comin' up and I was hopin' to get maybe a... you know... surprise appearance from him?" There was a look of confusion on the poor boy's face. "WITH COMPENSATION, of course." Another smile. "Uhhhhhhhmm, righttttt." He replied. "Let me..." He struggled to respond. Possibly the weirdest request he'd ever received, surely. "Let me go see if he's here. I'll be right back." "Sure thing, but ah-!" I held my hand up, a signal for him to stop as he reached for the handle. "Allow me," Taking the door by the giant O shape in its handle, I pulled the steel frame open to allow for the jock to head in. In respect to him, I closed it behind him, locking me out of the building once more. I stood there waiting. Waiting patiently. With my hands stuffed in my pockets, I casually swayed my body and whistled a chirpy hymn. To my surprise, it took only minutes for the door to open again. And out came Kyle fuckin' Turner in the flesh. And he wasn't a teenager anymore. No... He was a man, now. "Uh, hi-?" Kyle would greet me, without so much as a formal introduction. Fuckin' millennials. It took me a moment to sink in his appearance. Tall, 6'1, still shorter than me. A big guy, no doubt. But size didn't matter when it came to murder. Only intent, motive, and calculation. "Yes! Kyle Turner." Pulling my hand from my coat pocket, I extended it to him. "My name is Angelo Rossi. It's great to meet you!" Turner took my hand, shaking it as firmly as I was squeezing. But as he had taken my hand in his, I had also raised my other free hand to firmly grip his bicep. A sort of gesture of greeting, but it secretly to scope his muscular size. "Yeah, thanks." The fucker would respond. Yeah, thanks? Really? Really. Releasing his hand, I returned my superior 6 foot 3 stance to it's upright position and gave a fake, cheery smile. "My niece, she's a crazy fan." Pulling for my wallet, I slipped out a photograph of a teenage girl. "Her name is Nakoma. She's... half native half Italian, like me. Heh." Kyle took the photo in his hand, his eyebrows raising at the beautiful young lady he saw in the picture. Perfect, interest. "A looker, I know. Causes me more problems, ya know?" I chuckled, taking the photo back. "So listen, I came here hopin' I could hire you. For a job, of sorts." Kyle crossed his arms before him and looked at me curiously. "Oh yeah?" "Yeah, man. I'm organizing Nakoma's 16th birthday and I really want to make it special. She has posters of ya' all around her room and I thought, pffftttt, what better to surprise her with her favorite football player? Every teenage girl's dream, right?" I laughed again, thinking the idea is silly, but might actually work. "Nothin' major. There's be about 30 of her girlfriends there hangin' around the pool-" Realizing it was January, I instantly corrected myself. "Indoor pool, at her father's place. Big place, you know?" Kyle's head was nodding - Still interested. "Figured you can drop by for an hour or so, or even less if you're in a crunch. Sign some autographs, take some pictures. Grab a bite to eat, whatever you want. There'll be plenty of food, cuz, well, Italians, am I right?" Laughing again, Kyle's interest seemed to only be piquing the more bizarre and outlandish the story got. "Sounds fun." He smiled, bringing his fingers to his lips as he pondered the thought of 30 hot teenage girls in their bikinis. "But uh-" He started to sway. "I don't know-" "I'll pay you $5,0000. Cash." I confessed. His eyes widened. "$2,500 for showing up. $1,500 for autographs and another $1,000 if you take some selfies. You know' - the girls thing. Selfies, heh." I paused, my eyes growing darker as they remained hidden behind Aviator shades. "What do ya' say? We got a deal?" Swiftly changing tunes, "You know what, don't sweat the decision now. There's a lot of politics in sports, I'm old. I know it." I waved my hand in typical Italian fashion. "You gotta' business card or somethin'?" "Uh, nah but I can give you my number-" Perfect. A rich white kid, hot-shot jock, AND a moron. This was too easy. Handing him the photo, he retrieved a pen from his pocket and jotted down his digits. "Wow, thanks man. I appreciate you considering this." I waved the photograph of "Nakoma" and slipped it back into my wallet. "I'll give you a call something this week. Talk it over with your coach or manager or whoever you kids report to, heh." I put my hand out for him to shake again, "And nice meeting you again."

— — —

I found myself roaming the halls of University of Oregon on my attempt to exit the campus. My curious mind sent me further and further into the campus maze - a prestigious multitude of buildings and intricate floor plans; each with its own purpose, meaning, and unique design. Deep in UofO, I stumbled upon the Department of Fine Arts. The halls were brimming from floor-to-ceiling with murals and artwork. Slowing my pace, I stopped to appreciate the work. I had always had an affinity to for paintings. My eye had always found itself drawn to the color red. Red. My dark irises wandered the walls, finally pulling towards a large, 5 foot canvas. It soared above me - dazzling in its ocean of red. The painting was of a woman, presumably dripping in blood. A sort of, Queen of the Damned. Intrigued, my eyes shifted to the small plaque stuck to the wall by the corner of the artwork. Nicola Strom. My stomach sunk as my heart skipped a beat. "Crucifixion." The words rolled off of my lips. My head retracted slowly as my eyes closed. "Mmmm."

— — —

January 20th, 2018 - Five days after release. Eugene, Oregon had been unusually warm for January. For the most part, it was sunny and rainy on-and-off, with an average high temperature of 45 degrees F. Too warm for snow. At least, not enough sub-zero temperatures to keep it for more than a couple days, anyways. Luckily for this lovely Saturday evening, the rain had stopped early morning and the skies were greeted by a brightening sun. Kyle parked his Trail-Rated Jeep cruiser in front of the colonial-century home, red-bricked mansion. He ducked his head, looking over the place with his pale eyes as he took in the sheer size of the place. Although Eugene was home to old money - big money - it was also commonly inhabited by the middle class. Whoever owned this place... wasn't a white-collar, middle class citizen. Exiting his truck, he approached the front door, which was lavishly decorated with a Sweet-Sixteen balloon bundle. A clear indication he was at the right house. As he rang the doorbell, it only took a few seconds before he was greeted by a familiar face. "Mr. Turner." I said, standing tall with my hand cemented firmly on the back of the door. It was the first time he was seeing my hazel-speckled brown eyes. It was also the last. "Cute." I blurted, subliminally mocking his uniformed self as my eyes gazed over his full-football get-up. Shredded sleeves to show his pectoral muscles. How sleazy. Helmet and all. How sweet. "Come join the fun." I smirked, guiding him through the front door. "But maybe take off the helmet." Chuckling, Turner cracked a smile as he took a step into the house - which was, unsuspectingly, filled with the sound of laughing girls. "Too much, huh?" Kyle joked, unclasping the helmet and slipping his head free. His back was to me as I closed the door. "I thought mayb-" The moment he turned to face me, my hand - hidden behind the door the entire time - swung straight for his head. A thin medical syringe pierced into the side of his neck - administered by my right hand - Gloved. Protected. Injecting the cocktail of muscle relaxants, Kyle quickly deteriorated in a matter of seconds. His initial reaction to grab for my hand, but by the time he could react - it was already too late. He was losing almost all of his muscle ability. One. Two. Three. He hit the ground, unable to move, unable to moan, unable to call for help. With his body curled in the middle of the hallway, his eyes remained open - panicked. Looking down at his 6'1, 200 pound physique - which had been reduced to nothing in just seconds - I shook my head. Pathetic. His eyes followed my every move. He was conscious. Awake. Aware. I stepped over him and walked past him like he didn't even exist. Stepping into my living room, I smiled at the sound of giggling teenage girls filled the open-concept space. Walking over to the stereo system, I grabbed the remote and clicked - Off. Silence. Girls? What girls. There were no girls. Returning to his paralyzed figure, I crouched down to brood over him. I tilted my head to the side and grabbed his face between my gloved thumb and fingers. Squeezing his limp cheeks between them as I leaned his head to look at me. "Oh, Kyle." I made clicking noises with the back of my tongue. "Remember her?" Pulling a photograph from my back pocket - Sarah Ward. "Yeahhhhh." I flicked the photo in his face, nearly submitting to my urge to spit on him. "You're gonna die tonight." There was a dark, unforgiving grimace that crept my cheeks. "And it's gonna fuckin' hurt." Two, single-drop tears fell from the corners of his eyes. Hours had passed. Daylight turned to dark as night loomed over the city. Darkness was here. And it didn't come from the sky, nor the sun. Using Kyle's keys, I exited the mansion on the quiet, quaint street. E 22nd Avenue - a large strip of homes graciously spread apart; separated by the comfort of many, decades-old trees. I pulled the vehicle into the long driveway, reversing it rear-forward all the way to the side of the house. Two garage doors welcomed the Jeep, closing behind the front of it. It remained utterly hidden, safe within the confines of the home's garage. It would remain there until 3:45 in the morning, and a storm was brewing. The sound of the garage door sliding gurgled as it swayed open. Keeping the lights of the Jeep off, I placed it into drive and pulled it out of my driveway. The garage door closed behind me automatically, dismissing any evidence it had ever harbored a crime scene. My heart remained regular - beating as it would driving any other vehicle, on any other day, under any other circumstances. Humming, I drove the few blocks between the mansion and the University Campus. The Jeep came to the vehicle entrance of the Oregon Autzen Football Stadium. Like everything within the Performance Center, it required a swipe card to be unlocked and accessed. Holding out Kyle Tuner's card, I flicked it between the pad and waited. Flashing green, the gates to the field slid open. Although forbidden to bring any vehicles directly on to the terrain, it was 3:50 in the morning, on a Saturday. Too late for any players to be hangin' around during off-season, and too early for any maintenance workers or cleaners to begin their services. It was pitch-black, and between the sticky snow and the blowing winds - visibility was poor. Reversing the trail-rated wrangler, I slowly backed it up on to the field, parking the trunk of the vehicle directly in front of the brightly-yellow painted goal-post. Exiting the vehicle, I was dressed from head-to-toe in Kyle's football uniform, with the addition of a black long-sleeved T-shirt underneath. No tattoos were visible. Virtually nothing about me was recognizable. For all intensive purposes, I could very well be Kyle Turner. Unlatching the trunk, it swooshed open. There lay the true Kyle Turner. The flesh and blood. And there was a lot of blood. Taking the thick, twisted rope in my hand, I ran it from the back of the truck to the goalpost. Tossing it over the post's T-center, I caught it back in my hand and ran it back to the truck. The end of the rope was supported by a curled grappling hook. Kneeling behind the trunk, I fastened the hook to the hitch on the Jeep and found my way back to the driver's seat. Pushing the gears into drive, I slowly began to inch the vehicle forward until the rope strained - pulling viciously with the weight. Metal to the floor, I forced the truck into overdrive, suddenly gunning it forward and sending the object in the trunk to veer out of the vehicle. Decelerating the tracks, I watched in my review mirror as the item - two strong planks of crossed wood - reeled up against the T in the yellow goalpost. As it mounted to perfect height, I slammed the Jeep in park, and swiftly - excitedly- hopped out of the truck. It started slow at first, my heavy, rumbling laughter. But it evolved, soon developing into a magnified, thrill-infused maniacal cackle. Victory.

— — — January 21st, 2018 - The Discovery. The lights to the stadium flickered on - lighting the dark early-morning. The sun would not rise for another hour. And for a group of football jocks mucking their way to football practice, it would be a morning they would never forget. Wailing. Loud, incessant, uncontrollable wailing. The sound of screaming echoed throughout the stadium; hair-raising in its velocity, and intensity. The scene brought a grown, 21-year old man to his knees. Vomit projected from his chapped lips as he puked vehemently on the immaculate, freshly-snowed grass - staining it flaxen. It brought a wave of nausea to the entire team. Some cried, some collapsed, some gagged, heaved, hurled. But most... most stood in shock. Hailed before them was the body of Christ - a crucifixion of their most valued team member. There lay the body of Kyle Turner, naked and colorless, with only the stain of bleeding red that covered his postmortem flesh. His genitals were mutilated. His penis split in three different directions. He had been completely castrated; his balls were absent entirely from his groin. An indescribable amount of blood has been loss at its expense, leaving a blood-pour of red human serous to cascade down his legs. Cause of death? Blood loss. Slow, agonizing, harrowing blood loss. The cross hung from the center of the goalpost, the snow beneath his purple-faded feet red with blood. His hands were staked on either side; his ankles crossed and tied. His neck - the same color as his bruised toes - was mounted by barbed wire. His head bore the same fate - crowned like that of Christ with blood trickling from his scalp. RAPIST - Carved with a knife in to his forehead. SINNER - The words dripped from his abdomen in crusting blood, beginning to harden... but still moist. Fresh. — — — "Shocking news this morning on KVAL-13." Smitha George - Live News Reporter, would announce on national television. "A tragedy has occurred at University of Oregon. Senior Football Quarterback Kyle Turner, Star of the Oregon Ducks, was found brutally murdered at the campus stadium." She would go on, standing unshaken in the parking lot of the Performance Center. "Police have ruled the case a homicide after teammates found Tuner's mutilated body crucified on the goal-post of the end field." Spilling too much information for her own good - reporters classically interfered with investigations; often jeopardizing their efforts. "His hands and feet were reportedly pinned to a wooden cross, and his head wrapped in barb wire. Teammates report that the words "Rapist" and "Sinner" were carved on his body..." "... And that his eyes and lips were painted red, with blood." "Turner's vehicle, a Black 2017 Jeep Wrangler - was found abandoned at the scene. Police are looking for any information that may aid their efforts in solving this terrible case." She paused, staring into the camera as her words fed into the lives of millions of Oregon residents. "I'm Smitha George, reporting LIVE for KVAL-13 News." The clip ended.

#miles jones chapter #miles jones perspective #miles jones #dawn crow #through the dirt #jeffrey dean morgan faceclaim #jdm #murder #tw: violence #tw: rape mention

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markwatkinsconsumerguide · 4 years ago

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Consumer Guide / No.103 / Musician Nina Ricci with Mark Watkins.

MW : How did you find home-schooling?

NR : I was home-schooled from 6th grade through 12th grade, and at first, I wasn’t really happy with the changeover from being in a school setting to being home-schooled full-time. Honestly, it was the best thing for me!

I was only required to do four hours of academics daily and if I finished by noon, I had the rest of the day for art and music. I had time to discover my own interests. I liked the curriculum that we used, and I was able to learn without outside distractions. I was able to spend quality time with my parents, especially my dad who was battling a terminal illness (he passed away in 2008).

I started out with video lessons that were sent to me on DVD. It was like I was watching a class in session, and once I learned how to learn on my own, I was able to school myself from my books by reading and completing the quizzes and tests.

For my grade point average and achievement, I was selected to give the Valedictorian speech to my graduating class. And yes, there were other graduates in my class, I just graduated with strangers, that’s all!

I was also asked to sing at the graduation, and I performed my original song, ‘If They Only Knew Me’, which speaks to the hidden character and talents of those who are sometimes overlooked in the world.

I wouldn’t be who I am today if I had not been home-schooled.

MW : In what ways did studying at Berklee College Of Music help develop you as a musician?

NR : When I started classes there in the spring of 2011, I was virtually an untrained, raw talent. I had piano lessons for a few years that taught me some music theory, a few guitar lessons, and a measure of vocal training, but I had not been immersed in studying like I was when I got to Berklee.

Berklee impacted me in many ways, the most important fundamental skill set that college taught me was how to critique myself, to internalize what had been learned, and to self-hone my skills. I remember one teacher said, “we can’t ‘teach’ you anything, we can only put the information in front of you - for you to do with what you will.”

Fortunately, having been home-schooled, I was accustomed to studying independently. I had instruction from some teachers that took a special interest in me and who helped me to discover what my capabilities were and how I could increase my capacity .

Jeannie Gagné has a holistic approach to teaching voice. She helped me to bypass hurdles that I was facing as a vocalist. Jeannie really cared that I was able to succeed and achieve according to my expectations and aptitudes. She was a most helpful guide to me as I was learning to properly and healthfully sing.

Livingston Taylor helped me overcome stage fright! He teaches a class called Stage Performance Techniques. He did much to increase my awareness as a performer in regard to how a performer relates to an audience. His classes increased my confidence in my abilities as a performer.

Paul Rishell taught private lessons under the American Roots Music Program at Berklee, and he taught me to play country blues guitar. He set my picking style in order and gave me my first set of fingerpicks. It’s that kind of generosity and real care for students that makes a student go on to great things, and Paul’s teaching was invaluable to me.

MW : Why did you decide on making folk music a career?

NR : Folk music appealed to me when I was a teenager. The aesthetic was an immediate draw. I had been mostly listening to rock music like The Beatles, Joan Jett, and Queen. My mom turned me onto Bruce Springsteen and I listened to my dad’s Springsteen cassettes.

Listening on, I soon found ‘We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions’ and my interests took a turn. All of that big, blended Americana sound was captivating! My ears were tuned to that unvarnished sound and then I began listening to Bob Dylan and Joan Baez.

In the beginning when I was just experimenting, I thought I would be an electric lead guitarist like Brian May of Queen, now I had begun to play my dad’s Alvarez acoustic guitar and to write acoustic-based songs.

MW : Why do you rate Joan Baez so highly?

NR : It wasn’t a matter of “who is the best singer?”, but rather who took me away from the Nashville suburb I lived in into another world?

I was always an imaginative kid, and Joan’s voice transported me. Her way of singing and handling a song as if she was the character in it made me feel the depths of meaning the compositions contained. The ballads she sang, especially, early on in her career were gripping, and I had a lot of time on my hands to really listen and appreciate them. I was a bit like Jenny, from Forrest Gump, I wanted “to be a singer like Joan Baez.”

Of course, we all have people we look up to, and as I was just learning, I was able to sharpen my ear through listening to Baez and then to set aside the mold to embrace my own music.

MW : I believe you were born, raised and live in Nashville ; which country music acts & artists - past AND present - do you particularly enjoy, and why?

NR : Thank you for asking this question! I was actually born in Atlanta, raised in Nashville. My parents moved us to Nashville when I was 18 months old.

My dad wanted to pursue song writing in Nashville. He had talent for writing songs, but in order to provide for his family he opened a service business in the hospitality industry where he sent his employees to local venues, such as country clubs, the Nashville Symphony, the Country Music Hall of Fame, and many more. The business eventually claimed all of his time. Since my dad was from the North, and my Mom was from Atlanta, they weren’t really country music fans.

My parents took me to see Bruce Springsteen and Tony Bennett when I was in the womb. My dad really loved the Beatles, so he was teaching me their names by the age of four. They did discover that Dwight Yoakam’s voice calmed me as a baby when I was crying.

I listened to mainstream country in the early 2000’s which was basically Sara Evans, Toby Keith, Alan Jackson, and a few others. My only claim to country music is that some people think I sound a bit like Dolly Parton, and I occasionally play bluegrass.

I like Johnny Cash, of course, and I appreciate a well-written country song, but frankly, I’m not much for “the twang.” You might call my bluff when you hear my first album ‘Designs On Me’, though, because I do utilize that sound on a couple of songs, but it’s more of a stylistic choice than a genre for me.

Folk musicians are some of the best writers. In fact, behind many country songs that are huge hits, there is a folky from beyond Nashville who wrote a song that was pitched for a country artist.

MW : In order of merit, what are your Top 10 favourite albums of all-time?

NR : I have recently come to this thought. Truthfully, I am more of a lover of songs than of albums. So, if I list an album, please know that I may have liked a majority of songs, but maybe not the entire album.

10. Bruce Springsteen ~ ‘Nebraska’ (1982)

9. Bob Dylan ~ ‘Bob Dylan's Greatest Hits Vol. II’ (1971)

8. Tom Waits ~ ‘The Heart Of Saturday Night’ (1974)

7. The Avett Brothers ~ ‘Emotionalism’ (2007)

6. Joan Baez ~ ‘The First Ten Years’ (1970)

5. Queen ~ ‘ Greatest Hits’ (1981)

4. The Beatles ~ ‘Abbey Road’ (1969)

3. Bob Dylan ~ ‘The Times They Are a-Changin’ (1964)

2. Bob Dylan - ‘Bob Dylan’ (1962)

1. Bruce Springsteen ~ ‘We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions’ (2006)

MW : Tell me about your new album...

NR : This album was meant to be! ‘Fare Thee Well: A Joan Baez Tribute’ was officially released on July 20th, 2020.

I recorded this album in light of the fact that in 2019 Joan went on her Fare Thee Well tour and celebrated 60 years in music! Since she was retiring, I wanted to take the opportunity to thank her for the music by recording a tribute album based off of her first national release, Joan Baez.

This year is the 60th anniversary of this iconic album, which was released in October of 1960!

My tribute contains my renditions of the 13 original cuts from Joan Baez in the original album order. I recorded the album in simple fashion, with just guitar and voice, similarly to the way Joan’s album was recorded.

The impact Joan had on me as a musician still shows through in my performances, although I am a very different artist. While I did not try to imitate Joan with this album, I believe it conveys my appreciation for her as well. My renditions of her songs do not stray very far from the original arrangements.

I also decided to write a tribute song to Joan, which I call ‘Club 47/Fare Thee Well, Joan’, which is a medley. I had the title, ‘Fare Thee Well, Joan’ in mind, and I meant to write a song surrounding the idea of wishing her “farewell,” thinking of her retirement.

As Joan was on her last tour, I was going on my first tour!

My mom, our tour dog, Riley and I toured for all of 2019, and every spare minute was reserved for rehearsing Joan’s songs, so I didn’t seriously begin writing ‘Fare Thee Well, Joan’ until I was sitting in a motel in Venice, Florida in the middle of winter. We had already begun production in Sarasota at a tiny studio called Jump Dog Audio Productions.

Mom and Riley went out for the day so that I could work on the song without interruption. When I began writing, a completely different song than I intended was emerging with my every stroke. I was working with a half-capo and that was altering the way I played, and the tones I was working with.

I had been reading Joan’s memoir, ‘And A Voice To Sing With’, and a book about the Boston/Cambridge folk scene, ‘Baby Let Me Follow You Down’, and all of these ideas and influences served to inspire me.

The first half of the medley, ‘Club 47’, remembers where Joan began her career singing in the Club Mt. Auburn 47 coffeehouse in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

There was a photo taken around 1959 of Joan at about 18 years old singing at the Club 47 by Stephen H. Fenerjian that inspired the imagery of the first half of the song, and that photograph is featured, with permission, on the cover of ‘Fare Thee Well: A Joan Baez Tribute’.

Since I hadn’t intended to write this song, rather, to write ‘Fare Thee Well, Joan’, I set aside ‘Club 47’, thinking: “I like it a lot, but I don’t know what I’m going to do with it.”

I started writing the other song which was a little more modern and not what I was expecting. I wrote in a straightforward way about how I came to know Joan’s music and how I found myself in college in Boston, treading in her footsteps in Harvard Square.

I wasn’t finished with the song, and time was passing quickly so we moved to a hotel closer to the studio so that the commute would be shorter. I took another day and finished out the song.

I added the words : “years of concerts on the road, and leagues of fans adore you.” I wanted to fill the song with varying melodies, and this one just really touched me because I know how much her fans appreciate her. I rounded out the song with a message from me to Joan, which I hope she will hear soon.

My whole intent with this album is to say: “thank you for the music.”

MW : Away from making music, what are your other hobbies & interests?

NR : Well, I once had many hobbies and crafts, but I hardly have time for anything but music these days! Music has truly become my way of life.

Poetry is my literary secret passion. I get to write things in poems that don’t have a place in my songs. Words are my interest; the interaction between syllables and evocative imagery, as well as the way lines can be set against each other in juxtaposition creating interesting bright spots really excite me. I do journal continually. I try to write the less memorable aspects of my life down, as well as the highlights and how they came about and interconnect. I endeavour to write down the details I may not remember in retrospect so that I can know what has shaped me into who I am becoming.

I sew sometimes. It’s not a passion, just something I dabble in and enjoy. During the recent quarantine, I made two 1960s-style shift dresses using a pattern and a sewing machine.

I have the ability to draw, with an inherited gene from my dad. He had a better eye than I do, and he could draw from memory, as well as doing it on the fly.

I like movies a lot. In the past few years, my mom and I have been watching noir films from the 40s and I am always up for a British period film like ‘Pride And Prejudice’, or an early American classic like ‘Sarah, Plain And Tall’. That’s me in a nutshell!

MW : Where do you see yourself in five years time?

NR : With the uncertainty of the world at this time, that is hard to say. I follow God and His plan for my life, so I am always living accordingly. I set short-range goals and sort of eat them up like Pac Man dots. I do expect to tour again, and I plan to do another album, along with various other musical pursuits. I plan to grow in my skills and to also broaden my career. I think in five years I may have a fairly good-sized fan base according to how well-received my next couple of albums are, and might be touring extensively, maybe even overseas.

MW : Where can we find out more?

NR : I am a fairly accessible artist. I love to talk with my True Fans, as I call them. I have an active fan page on Facebook :-

https://www.facebook.com/groups/TrueFansofNinaRicci/

I am also on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter :-

https://www.facebook.com/ninariccimusic/

https://www.instagram.com/ninariccimusic/

https://twitter.com/ninariccimusic

The best way to reach me is through the contact section on my website :-

https://www.ninariccimusic.com/

I encourage interested persons to sign up for The Nina Ricci Music Newsletter via my website.

My new album, ‘Fare Thee Well: A Joan Baez Tribute’, is available for purchase in my website shop, as well as my first release, ‘Designs On Me’, and some of my original singles. There is also an unofficially released collection of songs called ‘Anthologies Sung: Roots For The Record’.

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popmusicu · 6 years ago

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Which were the best years for pop music?

The world has always known music, it has been a part of human’s lives since the beginning of times and since then it has had a social role. Before writing was invented music, along with storytelling, was the best way to pass on knowledge, it is a big part of many religious rituals around the world and of course, a big part of the everyday life of a lot of people.

Since most people enjoy music and music genres and styles are so vast, it comes as no surprise that everyone has a personal preference when it comes to what music they listen to and oftentimes that music is labeled as “the best” (by that person). This is why is so common to see a friendly (or sometimes not so friendly) discussion around one controversial question: Which were the best years for music? (popular western music as different from art music and folk music)

This is a question that has ignite debate for a long time and doesn’t seem to have found an answer, until now.

You’ll see, there is a widely held belief that the answer to this matter is only subjective and depends solely on personal taste, but the reality is that the bestness of music can be defined by a series of different factors, in other words, the question that concerns us can be answered with the help of science and data from different points of view or according to different elements.

In 2013 an article that called my attention was published in the newspaper Tendencias of La tercera with the title “Sí, la música de los 60’s es la mejor de la historia” (Yes, the 60’s music is the best in history) framed by a colourful jukebox. The article is based on the investigation of the psychologist Carol Lynne Krumhansl from Cornell University in EEUU. The article also mentions other investigations that support the statemen: one made by the psychologist Matthew Schulkind from the University of Massachusetts in 1999, and the other by the Spanish National Research Council (CSIC) in 2012. So, I decided to make my research.

In her investigation (https://pdfs.semanticscholar.org/bef6/301408b7196e06c867666ab497befeaaf00e.pdf) Krumhansl exposed young adults born in the 90’s to the top 2 songs on the Billboard between 1955 and 2009 to study how music transmitted from generation to generation shapes autobiographical memories, preferences and emotional responses, a phenomenon they call cascading reminiscence bump. The participants respond the way she expected, associating more memories to the music from years of their early adulthood and the early adulthood of their parents. The surprise came when the data showed a bump around 1965, which can be explained by 3 factors: the influence of grandparents, which according to Krumhansl is not very likely; technology, understood as the new ways of broadcasting music; and the quality of the songs from that period. This last one, is the most probable according to other researches. The one made by Schulkind in 1999, shows similar results regarding songs from the year 1965 to 1974, explaining, as well as Krumhansl, that the reason for this is simply the greater quality of these songs and adds that this allowed them to spend longer time in the popular repertoire.

To backup such conclusions I’d like to briefly explain the work published in 2012 by The CSIC (https://www.nature.com/articles/srep00521) in which they measured songs from the Million Song Dataset (a collection of audio of a million contemporary popular music tracks - https://labrosa.ee.columbia.edu/millionsong/) for timber, pitch, and loudness. The first one refers to the texture, colour and quality of the sounds, i.e. the song richness and depth of sound associated with instruments and recording techniques; the second one, roughly, corresponds to the harmonic content, including chords, melody and tonal arrangements; the third one accounts for the intrinsic volume of a recording. What the study found is that pitch sequences have being restricted (with metrics showing less variety in pitch progressions), the timbral palette has being homogenized (with frequent timbres becoming more frequent) with the variety of the timbre dropping steadily since its pick in the 60’s, and that the average loudness levels of songs have being increasing over the past years.

This means that as time goes by, we listen more of the same; as the songs become more similar to each other, more repetitive and have less quality. Why do I say this? Because the increasing loudness of music directly affects the overall quality of the sound. How? Well, have you heard about compression (dynamic range compression)? It is an “effect” you can apply to the track in editing which match the different parts of the song, so it is all at the same level of loudness or quietness (this different from the compression process of converting from one file extension to another). What the industry does these days is to boost the quietest parts to match the loudest ones, this drowns the timbral variety and mess up with the richness of the sound, thus losing the nuances that make the song interesting, or special, or beautiful.

Of course, when it comes to pop music the Industry plays a big roll, it manages the image of the artist and has great control over the style and sound of the songs, at least in the early career of the performer, this due to the risk factor. Nowadays record labels invest huge amounts of money to produce an artist, thus having to make very sure that their “product” “makes it”, so they can gain back their investment and earn some more. To do this they often stick to formulas, either for the structure of the song, its sound, the image of the artist or the aesthetics of the videoclip. But this is not enough, they also make sure the tune gets as much exposure as possible, because this creates the unconscious (sometimes fake) perception that we like something, in other words, we get used to it.

(Here you have a little sneak pick to this process: How to Create a Pop Star-https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=irk3_p15RJY.

What goes into making a pop song scientifically: The Formula Behind Every Perfect Pop Song - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vswg-xXMAys

My most recommended, how music has changed and got worst over the years: The TRUTH Why Modern Music Is Awful – https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=5&v=oVME_l4IwII)

But this hasn’t always been the case. Around the 60’s (1955 – 1975) record companies worked in a different way: the process of becoming a famous singer was mostly based on the music itself. The artist needed to be a good singer to begin with, there was no autotune, the editing was made by hand and the singer had to get the song perfectly right and in sync with the band in a few hours; they were basically performing live while being recorded and that was what the company would release. The role of the producer was different from modern day too, they were there to help built the vision of the artist and act as a consultant rather than produce the entire record to fit certain formulas. The rise of new technology into the musical scene let musicians have fun experimenting with new sounds (until the 80’s with the synth and the drum machine when things started going downhill quality wise) as well as the introduction of music from other cultures (like India).

The creative freedom and cultural changes lead this period to have some of the best songs and artists in the history of popular music:

- This period has the most representation in the chart with 4 of the 10 first positions in the “Hot 100 artists of all time”

- In the “500 greatest artist of all time” by Rolling Stone, 10 out of the 10 first positions go to artist with big careers in the period

- In the “500 greatest albums of all time” by Rolling Stone, 10 out of the 10 first positions go to albums realised in the period

- 1960’s has the most songs (40,8%) in the “500 greatest songs of all time” by Rolling Stone magazine, followed by the 70’s (28,2) and the 50’s (14,4).

A lot was happening in the 60’s, it was a time of cultural revolution. People were embracing change and seeking the new. Youth had consolidated as a social group with economic power ready to spend on the latest and ready to have fun. Whatever was interesting, new, extravagant or fun will resonate with them, and this is exactly how the musical creativity of that time went down. Music was influenced by people and people was influenced by music, to create a highly creative atmosphere for all forms of art. Unlike music industry today where all the formulas and exposure, give us a feeling of familiarity and comfort that numb our unconscious mind and are designed to make big sales and quick money. You can most certainly say that pop reflects the society that produces it.

Undoubtedly, the songs and artist from around the 60’s had a great impact in our culture to the point that their music and names are still in the collective unconscious of the world, as the study of Carol Lynne Krumhansl showed. That is why we hear them in many movies, commercials and trailers (There is now a trend to use arranged classical rock songs). So to finish it off here are some examples of these songs still going in our distant time.

Commercials:

- Heineken – Can’t take my eyes off you – Franky Valley – 67 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xEU7MMZJL7A

- Wallmart – gimme some lovin – Spencer Davis group – 1966 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XaaP1po-JkA

- Paris Parade – From me to you – The beatles – 1964 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bEMWGL0jQ6k

- Toyota – Happy together – The turtles – 1967 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tzvL7e_wiVM

- Levi’s (1999) – Be my baby – The Ronettes – 1964 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bQqNgx17NS0

Movies:

- To Rome with love (2002) – Volare (1958) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=by9jiwVLH1A

- Watchmen (2009) – The Times They Are a-Changin' (1964) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nZj43rtoEp4

- Shrek 1 (2001) – I’m a believer (1966) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SK919-tsPCw

Trailers:

- Ocean’s 8 (2018) – These boots are made for walking (1965) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MFWF9dU5Zc0

- Trend to reuse classic songs in trailers (2018): https://youtu.be/a_jjzzgLARQ?t=222

Laura Vidal

#All time best #I love this #submission

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