Old World and New: German and American Song (Katzin Hall, January 30, 2009)

Here was the blurb for the concert: "ASU faculty artists and guest artists celebrate German and American song, including Schumann's "Dichterliebe," Brahms' "Four Serious Songs," Barber's "Knoxville: Summer of 1915" and "The Promise of Living" from "The Tender Land," Aaron Copland's only major opera."

It sounded good. But wasn't. I think the performers did fine, but the programming was, let's say, suspect. Brahms' "Four Serious Songs" were certainly serious, and they were followed up by a group of 16 German songs that went on and on about the awfulness of life, love, etc. Wow. There were some nice moments in the second half but by this time we were pretty well shell-shocked.

First ASU concert that we didn't really enjoy. Had Chris, Kerry, Paul Jr., Mary Beth & Mike. Everyone had pretty much the same reaction. Another less than inspirational occurrence was the pizza at La Bocca on Mill Avenue (information here), where we went pre-concert.

Oh well.

Foucault's Pendulum (Umberto Eco, 1988)

OK, I had plenty of misgivings because the story revolves around secrets, secret societies, powerful hidden folks, etc. (DaVinci Code-ish). That's almost certain to generate a weak story line. And I had further misgivings because the book was an "international bestseller" - maybe that doesn't mean much in terms of actual sales, but it suggests a product pitched to an overly broad audience.

But Eco has more going on than tale-spinning - he is speaking to the question why humans are drawn towards secrets and conpiracies, what happens to the world-view of secret-seekers, etc.

Plot - the particular "secret" - involves the Crusades-era Templars and rumors of a long-term plan to take power over the world via subterranean currents or whatever. But the power-taking plan, or at least crucial elements, seems to have been lost over the centuries. Three employees of an Italian publishing house get deeply immersed and make up a version of the plan. The fictional plan (and efforts to implement it) end up, in their version, explaining just about everything that's happened in the last 1000 years across several continents. The plan then turns out to be of great interest to certain others, even though the plan is fiction.

The story was interesting enough, though too many sections didn't seem to add much to the story (including long passages from private writings of one of the main characters (Belbo) - I just started skipping these (though there was something there from the perspective of Italians dealing with World War II, shifting allegiances as the fortunes of the war shifted, etc.)). The story was told through the eyes of Casaubon (same name as the old husband in Middlemarch, not sure why but I doubt it was a coincidence).

What is a "secret," anyway? Author observes that there is nothing inherently magical about secret information, as so often is suggested - simply means that persons other than the secret-seeker have the information. He correctly points out that once the secret is known, its power - which generally is in the imagination of the secret-seeker - is gone. There are no secrets that unlock powers, or obviously these would have been exploited long, long ago.

In the end this business of secrets, Kabbalah, etc. seems to be another way of addressing the profound - and unanswerable - questions - why are we here, where did we come from, what happens after we die, etc. Humans have faced these questions forever, and have come up with a long list of ways of coping. (Probably at more profound levels in eras prior to endless distraction with media.) Many folks seem to like believing that there is a power and a system (or at least a conpsiracy) that if understood, gives us a measure of control or understanding over these eternal unknowns. Numerology - crack the code, understand something. And if there are conspirators out there implementing secret designs - well, that helps explain why things go wrong for you, and it's not even your fault! It was out of your control or even perhaps "meant to be" - a great cop-out. (Versions of this are of course popular with politicians - blame secret conspirators (fill in the details as needed: speculators, financiers, Jews, whatever) for the failure of your policies how convenient.)

So in the end all of this business about secrets or ancient rituals or Kabbalah or whatever doesn't lead anywhere. And still leaving us with the big questions . . .

Evening in the Palace of Reason (James Gaines, 2005)

This book was based on an interesting conceit - a visit by Bach to Frederick the Great during which Frederick posed a musical challenge - I didn't comprehend the intricacy, but it involved the use of canons and/or fugues. Frederick apparently was pretty sophisticated musically (though his employee - Carl Bach! - is thought to have come up with the challenge.) Anyway, Bach came up with what is now referred to as "The Musical Offering." I have listened to that CD quite often over the years but hadn't known about its background.

The book actually doesn't spend all that much time on this specific episode, which in the end didn't seem all that important to either party. But the episode did present an opportunity to compare and contrast the ages represented by Bach (old school Lutheran, belief in original sin etc.) and Frederick (Enlightenment, rationality, belief in perfectibility of man).

The author gave a brief biography of each protagonist; he concludes Bach was a bit of an individualist within the Lutheran tradition and in fact a precursor to the Romantics.

It was interesting to think of a person like Bach in those days -a village cantor or organist because there wasn't much else of a market for musicianship - recognized for talent, but in a role where followed orders and did music as a craft; his music depicted theological "truths." The notion of an independent artist expressing his or her own vision just didn't exist in that part of the world at that time. Yet Bach did some pretty independent composing, ergo the esteem in which the later romantics held him.

The portrayal of Frederick wasn't very flattering - the author spends a great deal of time explaining how his father was controlling and abusive, and how this appeared to affect Frederick's relationships ever after. He was intent on expanding Prussia, ended up with lots of wars. Apparently relatively progressive as a ruler; also somewhat forgotten until Hitler came along. Not sure why Hitler picked up on Frederick the Great, maybe he was as good a symbol as any that were available; I read that Hitler made the formal declaration of the Third Reich at Frederick's tomb. (I think the "first reich" was the Holy Roman Empire, and the "second reich" was the German empire as it existed after the unification by Bismark in 1870 through the end of WWI.)

The author gave a lot of details about canons and fugues, how they are constructed etc. I'm confident I still don't understand this, and could never pick out the elements - though I certainly like the sound of Bach's work of this nature, or at least the little to which I've been exposed.

Also, the author exults over Bach's B minor Mass and the Passion According to St. Matthew - I would agree that both are great listening. It's also interesting how Mendelssohn did a version of the B minor Mass that was catalytic in bringing Bach to public attention - after 100+ years of Bach having been largely forgotten.

Muhammed - A Biography of the Prophet (Karen Armstrong, 1992)

Reading this was a bit odd. I would like to be less ignorant about the roots of Islam and I think it was helpful to read this. But the author (who I later learned is quite a prominent writer and commenter on all things religious) seems to be anticipating a non-Muslim Western readership that is hostile to Islam. She ends up working too hard to define various occurrences as justifiable under or consistent with the Torah or the gospels or the New Testament; I'm not sure why she strains to make the effort, I would assume Islam doesn't require that kind of justification?

Her concluding comments leave no doubt she blames the West for any conflict that exists with radical Muslims, maybe she thinks this type of book will help enlighten the ignorant Westerners? But as far as I can tell, the West (and Christendom in general) has a long and well-publicized list of failings in relations among Christian denominations and non-Christian religions alike, but continually calling this out isn't very helpful and probably is irrelevant to discussing others?

She quite often takes the same approach with passages in the Koran; again, I'm not sure why this was necessary. She comes across as almost over-sensitive about perceptions of Islam as unfair to women, the harem, "religion of the sword," violence, relationships with Jews, etc. The effort to point out - or interpret where necessary - various Koran passages seemed unnecessarily strained. After all, it seems like all religions have authoritative writings full of admirable ideas about justice, social justice (widows, orphans), peace, family, etc., along with other passages that might sound awkward to the "modern" ear. The challenge is translating this into a workable civil society (including not having the various religions run into each other). I can see where this could be extra difficult where the political leadership's claims are based on divine authority rather than consent of the governed . . .

An interesting idea was the author's discussion of the differing emphases between Christianity and Islam, including a description of the primitive status of desert Arabia in comparison to more developed civilizations (Greece, Rome, Persia, Byzantium, etc.) or religious traditions. She notes that Muhammad was very preoccupied with not getting himself killed, establishing alliances, etc.; that there was no established civil order in this part of the world within which the religion could function. Christianity by comparison grew up in a (Roman) state with order - if directed aggressively at the Christians in the early going - in any event, the Christians didn't need to start with an army or establish their own state, they emphasized healing, preaching, submission; and then took over the Roman machinery when the time came. Also with the emphasis on "end of days" in the early going for Christians, why try to build anything? So there were very good reasons for Islam to have different, more practical, priorities. I think there are some interesting ideas here.

Muhammed's unfolding revelations were reminiscent of (what little I've read of) Joseph Smith; handy concepts came along as needed; admittedly can sound cynical but in the end if a charismatic leader creates something that works for folks on a large scale, it's impressive. And I certainly can't figure out how anyone generates inspirational ideas, by definition these are coming outside the normal process of analysis etc.

Piano (James Barron, 2006)

The author follows a concert grand (number K0862) through the 11-month building process in the Steinway factory in New York. This was quite interesting. But not as interesting as I had hoped. I was looking for more history of the piano, not so interested in the assembly and mechanical details.

He does a good job of conveying the individuality of the pianos; I also liked the stories of the various world-class pianists associated with Steinway.

As far as history, one does get a sense of the ascent of the piano - really a late 19th and early 20th century phenomenon. As discussed in the Liszt biography, the piano was developed into its modern form at that time and became something of a status symbol - communicated both prosperity and culture, so who wouldn't want one sitting in the front room? The drop-off in sales was massive once radio - and then the real killer, TV - became mainstream.

And I learned that I've heard K0862 (now renumbered CD-60 after assignment to Steinway's concert division, where the best grands go) on a recording by a family group - the "Five Browns" - they used the piano on their debut album, which I had received as a gift from one MB Stern.

Anyway, this read like a long newspaper article. Which basically is what it is . . .

Winesburg, Ohio (Sherwood Anderson, 1919)

This is a collection of inter-related short stories about a 19th century Ohio town told primarily through the eyes of a narrator who is a reporter for the local paper (George Willard). The book shows up on lists of great American novels, supposedly was considered quite ground-breaking for the manner in which it illuminated small-town life in a direct, simple, honest manner.

I just didn't like this book very much. I thought the characters were too flat (in general, I don't seem to enjoy short stories, much prefer longer vehicles where the author has a chance to develop characters, story lines, etc.). And the overall tone felt too negative - it's not a great discovery to recognize that people have faults, and in this short story setting there wasn't room to present a more balanced picture of the various characters.

Anyway, perhaps this was a great book and I missed the point, but so be it.

One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich (Alexander Solzhenitsyn, 1957-59)

Just a delightful read. I didn't realize the significance of this book as a ground-breaker in getting out information about the labor camps.

Solzhenitsyn's stuff, at least so far, has been excellent (previously read "The First Circle" and "August 1914").

Solzhenitsyn was in the Soviet military in World War II when he was arrested for writing a letter with an unflattering remark about Stalin. The story goes that he was needed in the heat of battle, but of course the political issues took precedence over military (like the commissars in Life and Fate).

So he had first hand knowledge of the camps.

This book is very short and is remarkable in its seeming unremarkableness. He literally describes one day in the life of a zek (Shukhov). He selects what would be considered a "good" day - presumably to show how horrible life was in the camps. The zeks are living and working in extreme cold with minimal nutrition. Shukov is on year eight of a 10-year sentence, but has seen enough to know that they might hang "another tenner" on him for whatever reason they like; or that if he survives his sentence, he has pretty much no shot of reconnecting with his old life (exile would be one possibility). We follow Shukov as he navigates the complex relationships among the guards, the personnel at the kitchen, fellow prisoners, etc. He makes out with a bit of extra food, manages to snag an extra puff off the butt of another prisoner's cigarette, barters for more cigarettes - just a great day. He had picked up a small piece of metal when out on work detail and was going to take it back to camp to fashion into a knife - highly risky situation, worrisome for the reader.

This book has virtually no moralizing; it is terribly simple. The 20th century in Russia (and many other places, I suppose) was pretty amazing.

A side note - Solzhenitsyn died a few months ago, and the mainstream media actually noted the event with some meaningful coverage. But this was completely dwarfed by the coverage of the death of a TV news anchor or news show host (his name was Tim Russert). I'm not sure exactly what Mr. Russert did, but he must have been a midget compared to Solzhenitsyn. Oh well, I guess trumping up the death of media types can only help convince the average consumer of the media's importance, to the benefit of future ratings . . .

Life and Fate (Vasily Grossman) (published in 1980s after KGB suppression in 1960)

I had looked forward to reading this for some time. The author's background alone made it almost certain that it would be interesting. Here is a guy who wrote articles for the Red Star (Russia's version of Stars and Stripes) from places like Stalingrad (excellent books discussed here and also here), and supposedly was a favorite among the front line soldiers.

While something of an insider within the Soviet system for some years, Grossman gradually recognized the paramount importance of freedom - a constant theme within Life and Fate. He put together an epic novel that covers the battle (from multiple perspectives, including House 6/1, the power station, etc.); the role of the commissars; the Russian home front from multiple perspectives; Russian labor camps; German prisoner of war camps; death camps for Jews; a tank squadron; and on and on. The participants (160 characters) are linked by family or other relationships for the most part.

Any number of these perspectives were highly interesting. The perspective that was perhaps most interesting was the '30s - even though the action in the book took place in the 1940s, all of the characters had been shaped by the awful occurrences in the Soviet Union during the 1930s (Stalin's famine in the early part of the decade, and the purges culminating in the later part of the decade). He did a great job with the Nazi death camp story; also folks like Krymov and Shtrum struggling in different ways to avoid knuckling under to the regime, at great personal cost. It really is hard to imagine.

Also fascinating is the environment in which he tried to get the book published - he thought there might be an opening after Stalin's death. But no such luck- way too much talk of freedom - all copies of the manuscript were confiscated. (Except a couple he had hidden away with trusted associates just in case; even then, publishing was delayed.) Similar to Doctor Zhivago in some ways.

I really liked the discussions among the "old Bolshevik" character and a Nazi officer comparing (and basically declaring to be equivalent) Nazi-style fascism and Soviet-style communism. (This no doubt didn't sit well with the Russian authorities.) Also a longish discussion attributed to a Tolstoyan in a Nazi prison camp regarding the nature of "good" - he articulated well how it is most genuine when spontaneous ("private, senseless, incidental kindness is in fact eternal"), and is dulled when institutionalized (it becomes just another business); I can't effectively summarize the discussion (or am too lazy to try), but it is worth thinking about.

Did it work? I would definitely say yes. Is it a wonderful read? Yes; one of the best I've been through lately.

Does it match "War and Peace" (to which some comparisons are made)? I don't think so, but also think an effort to compare is pointless. It is surprising that the book hasn't gotten more traction, but it is almost 900 pages long . . .

I would also recommend the discussion of the book that appears here.

A Duel of Giants: Bismarck, Napoleon III, and the Origins of the Franco-Prussian War (David Wetzel, 2003)

I was looking forward to reading this because it ties to a bunch of other stuff I've been reading lately. And the link from the Franco-Prussian dust-up of 1870 to WWI is so direct that I was interested in knowing more about how this got started.

But the book wasn't that interesting. The author clearly has done his homework. There were many elements in the rivalry; he focuses in incredible detail on a dispute over the succession to the Spanish throne (to France's chagrin, a Hohenzollern prince became a candidate).

All this was too much for some of the French politicians to stomach, following closely on the 1866 embarrassments in which German unification (and Prussian-led prevalence over Austria) advanced. (With what followed in fairly short order, it's always hard to believe Germany didn't exist as a state until this era.)

The cover photo on the book shows the famous photo of Bismarck and an aging Napoleon III (after the French had been demolished in short order). But those two characters weren't given much emphasis in the book.

Read at gym. Just average.

Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard (Joseph Conrad, 1904)

I read this about six months ago at the gym. I much like Conrad's stuff, including this book. One thing that's interesting is that he uses the English language so well when he didn't learn it until his 20s (native Pole).

This is set in an imaginary South American republic (Costaguena). Conrad does a great job of setting up a pretty large group of interconnected characters. And really goes into depth. The descriptions of the local politicians and governments would be spot-on today, at the risk of sounding condescending or rascist (except the basic weaknesses in this area aren't at all confined to Latin America or any other geography). The good-hearted Englishman who brings along the mine into production to the benefit of the entire area, and ends up being pretty much owned by the mine. The local families. The old Italian who worshipped Garibaldi and ran a local lodging place. The cynical journalist who gets over being disconnected - by falling in love with a local - and stays to fight the good fight.

All with weaknesses, but the book is pretty optimistic in the end.

The central figure (Nostromo) is an Italian who heads what I guess you'd call the longshoremen. He is incorruptible; a heroic figure in the town; entrusted with hiding a bunch of silver; this leads to some erosion of his incorruptibility, you could say.

A more detailed description can be found here - but I'd stay away from the description and just read the book.

Franz Liszt - Vol. 1 - The Virtuoso Years, 1811-1847 (Alan Walker, 1983)

For as much as I've been exposed to classical music, I just have never studied it or even read much about the leading composers, etc. So I'm trying to correct this situation. This author has done a three-part biography of Franz Liszt - who I certainly knew by name, and possibly would have associated with Hungary. But no more than that.

Anyway, the first volume of this biography was thoroughly interesting. At the beginning I was concerned that this was the kind of biography where the author is mostly interested in showing off how much research was done and why his work exceeds the efforts of previous biographers. There was some of that, but it ended up not being a problem.

Some things I took away:

1. Persons like Liszt leave no room for doubt that something like "genius," for want of a different term, absolutely exists in a small number of people. These folks simply have something the rest of us can never have. Liszt was able to learn music, perform in concerts at a ridiculously young age (~11), memorize, sight read, etc., in a way that simply was not normal. It's fascinating to think about.

2. Sort of like in the Goethe biography, Liszt came to the fore as a celebrity - there was a sufficient media machine to make him famous. Supposedly there was genuine Liszt-mania in many places he appeared during this period.

3. Carl Czerny was one of his earliest instructors. That's a name familiar to anyone who has done any piano practicing, his various exercises have endured.

4. Liszt's father took him around Europe on concert tours at an early age. I never had thought about the logistical difficulties - the concert industry didn't exist in anything approaching the format we know it. Not to mention difficult travels; this started shortly after the Napoleonic era.

5. The way this author tells it, large-scale piano recitals didn't exist prior to Liszt - one reason being that the piano technology wouldn't have permitted it. Piano performances were done in salon settings, probably building on from the harpsichord traditions. Liszt and his father ran across a piano manufacturer (Erard) in Paris who had an instrument that permitted much more difficult technical achievements at the keyboard, plus had the sound-generating capacity to fill large halls. Other manufacturers were making similar progress. I had no idea about this sequence.

6. And the description of a piano program as a "recital" - where did that come from? Of course, it was Liszt. Not clear exactly why he used it, but the term certainly caught on. His approach to programming also became a model.

7. It also was interesting to me that the early recitals so often ended with the performer doing "improvisations," often on themes submitted by the audience. Liszt supposedly was the master of this. Contrast to today's programs which - as much as I like them - are dominated by faithful renderings of whatever has become the accepted presentation of a work. I would believe the composers didn't intend for performances to be limited in this way.

8. Many of the commercial arrangements sound familiar. Erard shipped pianos wherever Liszt performed around Europe, gratis. And sold pianos everywhere - no possibility of better advertising than having Liszt demonstrate the product. Like today's "Steinway artists."

9. It was most interesting to read about Lizst's interactions with other 19th century luminaries, such as Balzac, Victor Hugo, George Sand, Chopin (Polish refugees were in Paris following yet another Russian sack of Warsaw), Robert & Clara Schumann, Hector Berlioz. Even a brief exposure to Beethoven in the early going.

10. There is a character in "Les Miserables" named Cosette - which is an unusual name. Turns out it is a diminutive for Cosima, Liszt's daughter - for whom Victor Hugo named the character.

11. These 19th century folks so often are involved in the 1848 revolutions - in Liszt's case, Hungarian nationalism was rampant as they sought a better deal with their Austrian overlords. Liszt lived mostly in Paris during these years, but was enthusiastically supportive of Hungary, did tours there, etc.

The Idiot (Fyodor Dostoevsky, 1868)

Prince Myshkin suffers from epilepsy; grew up under doctor's care in Switzerland and so was not familiar with Russian society. Whether due to his condition and background or whatever, he approaches others with complete trust and simplicity; he could achieve almost total empathic understanding with whoever was in front of him. He falls in love with a troubled beauty, Nastasya Filipovna - but it is perhaps moreso a love based on pity.

He also loves, in a more traditional sense, Aglaia Epanchin.

Rogozhin (who he meets in the first pages of the book) is almost his opposite; competes for Nastasya; and the way they finish the book together is pretty awful and effective.

I liked the book a lot. Read it in 35-minute chunks on the stairmaster, and I often didn't notice the time passing.

The Lebedev character was annoying; chronic liars are hard to place. Ippolit - dying of consumption - wrote a long-ish farewell address that was a good vehicle for discussing the theme of how we might live if we knew we only had a short time. Myshkin tells a story of a girl in Switzerland that he taught the students to treat with kindness; this was powerful.

I got a kick out of the scene where the imposter comes in to try to claim some of Myshkin's money. It was a perfectly pitched example of the way people act and speak when they have convinced themselves (if not wholeheartedly) that their "rights" have been violated.

I read that Dostoevsky suffered from epilepsy, and that Myshkin was intended as a gentle, Christ-like figure. Dostoevsky apparently went through a lot, including exile in 1849 (when the Tsar, like most monarchs, was a bit touchy following the 1848 revolutions across Europe).

The Odyssey (Homer, 8th century BC) (translated Robert Fagles)

It was a pleasure to go back through this long-ish poem, and I can see why the Fagles' recent translation was named one Time magazine's 10 best books (1996). It was a sequel to Homer's Iliad, and a predecessor to the Aeneid (Fagles' translation discussed here).

Fagles teams up with this guy named Bernard Knox, who provides long, scholarly-sounding introductions. It's a great combination.

The story - Odysseus returning home from Troy to deal with the suitors chasing Penelope (to the chagrin of Laertes and Telemachus) is well known. And it is amazing how many elements of the story are staples: Cyclops; the sirens and their famous song; Calypso; Scylla and Charybdis; the visit to the land of the dead; etc.

One of the reasons I wanted to read it was because the movie "O Brother Where Art Thou" was loosely based on this; also James Joyce's "Ulysses," which I need to read again since it didn't make much sense to me the first time.

Great stuff.

Cousin Bette (Honore de Balzac, 1846)

Balzac is one of those authors that I've never read despite constantly running into references. Supposedly both Proust and Henry James studied his works carefully.

I mostly read this novel on the flights to and from DC.

"Cousin Bette" is one of his later works, and is part of his magnus opus - "La Comédie humaine" - a group of 100 or so works iwth some recurring characters, etc.

He's clearly another great observer of human nature. Seemed to be writing also for a popular audience; snappy dialogue, quicker pace than some of the other things I've been looking at lately.

I read that Balzac's father wanted him to be a lawyer, but that he wasn't very good at handling structure of any kind. He did have some training and I believe practiced a few years. This definitely shows up in his writing. He brought to life the economic concerns of the characters in more detail and with more accuracy than others I've read. Apparently 19th century economic considerations were more similar to current than I would have thought.

One reason I like reading stuff from France in this era is the overlapping political epochs; he was born in the Napoleonic days, this was written during the July monarchy. Apparently Balzac did support a lot of the old structures.

Plot line: Cousin Bette is jealous of her relatives based on not liking how she was treated as a child, and joins up with a top flight courtesan to pursue revenges.

Hortense marries a Pole, and Balzac is funny with what would now be politically incorrect observations about the courage and senselessness of the Poles, how this contributed to their various partitions, etc. (show a Pole a precipice and he will throw himself over . . ."

James Taylor and his Band of Legends

A last-minute event - Patricia, Paul Jr., Nedda and I went to see James Taylor (who was touring with his modestly titled "Band of Legends") at the Dodge Theater in downtown Phoenix on Saturday night (August 2).

Per usual for touring folks, they were promoting a new album. They played a few items from that in the beginning of the concert. In general, the band was quite good. But the crowd (certainly including us) was there only to hear JT work from his catalog of familiar items primarily from the 1970s.

Some observations:

1. The guy's voice has survived remarkably well for being at age 60. Certainly in comparison to some of his contemporaries that really shouldn't be touring anymore (or at least confine themselves to out of the way casinos).

2. He did enough of the old stuff so that everyone left satisfied. There was a portion of the second set where he did "Walking Man," "Sweet Baby James," and "Fire and Rain" in close order. Nice.

3. I had not heard the story behind "Sweet Baby James" before, it was written for a nephew of his that was named "James" (duh) while he was off doing whatever in Europe. So he recounted coming back to the US and trying to write something. Some funny lines about the "the little varmint" and his effort to come up with songs, e.g. "All quiet in the bunkhouse" (a rejected title).

4. His stage presence is wonderful. Connected very well with the audience. Stuck around signing autographs, posing for photos, talking through the entire intermission. He's funny, has a great way of talking. He more or less works his way around stories, often getting there indirectly, permitting audience members to fill in their own ideas. Told some of the traditional jokes (and openly identified them as such), including how the electric guitar was an improvement over the "steam-powered guitar" and the "horse-drawn guitar" etc.

5. They did four encores. Nice.

6. He sang "Oh what a beautiful morning". Unexpected. We all thought of EMG.

7. Normally I don't much care for his blues stuff, but in a live venue it worked really well. They did a slower-tempo version of "Steamroller" plus some other stuff.

8. Had a funny bit about how he and Carole King worked up "You've Got a Friend" in a nightclub that - well, it was probably a bit of a stretch to call it a nightclub; if a building could be a ditch, that's what it was . . . that he didn't know that the song would end up being something he performed every night for the rest of his life . . . but this was better than folks who had hits like "The Monster Mash."

9. The band members really did add a lot. I often find the brass sections annoying in these groups, but they were restrained and very musical. The main drummer was a Phoenix guy that is pretty talented, though I never much care for the whole drummer routine. There was another drummer doing Latin stuff, he was interesting to listen to. Etc.

10. To take a stab at describing why his stuff works - I think the word is bittersweet. Somehow the combination of his unique voice, the lyrics, the chord movements underneath the held notes - it still sounds great after 35+ years, and I think his stuff is aging really well. He can communicate the poignancy of the fleeting happinesses . . . has figured out that the fleeting nature is what creates the intensity . . .