Box Days

Schuyler
Originally uploaded by Citizen Rob.

The monster was unusually present this weekend, albeit held at bay. Schuyler participated in a caroling party with other kids who use AAC technology, and while it was a fascinating and occasionally heartbreaking experience, it also involved a lot of other people whose stories aren't mine to tell. I'll simply say that it was yet another one of those experiences with other, more broken kids where I felt despair, while Schuyler just saw an opportunity for seasonally appropriate merriment. (At one point she decided to take over and conduct the performance.) One day, I'll learn to see this grand rough world like Schuyler does, rather than in my old sad bastard way.

I recently heard from a magazine editor who wanted to do something on Schuyler's Monster for the magazine's February issue. After he got a copy of the book, he suggested something different. Rather than a standard minireview of the book itself, he wanted to do a story about us and the book, but with a twist.

He wanted to interview Schuyler, on her device, via email or instant message.

I initially hesitated, although I'm not entirely sure why. I mean, I try to insulate Schuyler from all of the book spazzing and hype, but that's perhaps a little naive, considering that she is the title character of the book, her face splashed across the cover. For better or for worse (better, I feel pretty sure), Schuyler's along for the ride on this. Furthermore, I dig this magazine, which is both a little fancy and a little shit-disturbing at the same time, and I like the executive editor, whose writing I am familiar with from his days at a now-defunct Dallas weekly alternative paper. It was an interesting idea, one that simultaneously triggered my defensive dad reflex and my curiosity. After consulting Julie and Schuyler, curiosity won out.

In the end, we opted for an interview conducted over email, partly because I wanted to be able to take time with Schuyler to make sure she understood the questions, and partly because I wasn't entirely sure how to make the Big Box of Words work with an IM client. (Incidentally, it turns out that it is stupidly easy.) I won't go into the details of the interview itself, since that's obviously for someone else's publication, but I felt like it went pretty well. Schuyler was very careful and particular in her unusually long-winded responses, and the only help she needed from me was in spelling some words she couldn't find on her device.

There was a question about her dreams, and while I'm not 100% sure she entirely understood it, I was nevertheless interested to see what she'd have to say. Schuyler's dreams have always fascinated me, mostly because of all the parts of her life that we are occasionally privy to, her dreams remain the most unreachable. She has never shared them with us in any meaningful way; I can only think of one time before now, after she was troubled by a bad dream about monsters of some kind. But even then, she didn't seem frightened, only very sad, and she wouldn't share any details.

That's how it is with Schuyler. As she gets older, some doors open up to us, and we can see parts of her world that were closed off to us before. But she can slam them closed whenever she wants, and sometimes she makes that choice, particularly when she's pissed off. She stops using her device, throws her arms in frustration, and starts jabbering in a stream of Schuylerese that is two parts Martian and one part whine. Schuyler can be a pill when she chooses to be.

Even when she's happy, though, there are doors seemingly forever closed to us. Her dreams are her own, and so are her songs. She breaks into little melodies of her own creation, with lyrics that go forever untranslated. I'm learning not to ask her about her music, as that is the fastest way to make her stop singing. When Schuyler sings, you listen and you take the part that is meant for you, the sweet and untethered melodies that flit around like moths, never landing, always moving. The lyrics we just have to live without. They are hers alone.

"Paths of Glory"

"Paths of Glory"
Originally uploaded by Citizen Rob.

I haven't written about this before now, mostly because I know how my writing about music tends to make crickets chirp and the baby Jesus cry. However, I thought Veterans Day presents a pretty good occasion to explain why I am boycotting the Dallas Symphony Orchestra.

Money concerns force DSO to drop concert

Britten's 'Requiem' 'very expensive'

One of the headliner concerts promised for the Dallas Symphony Orchestra's 2007-08 season is being scratched. Benjamin Britten's War Requiem, which was to have been performed under principal guest conductor Claus Peter Flor, will be replaced by another program because of money concerns.

"We were reviewing the budget for next year, and we determined the need to make a few programming adjustments," says Fred Bronstein, president and CEO of the Dallas Symphony Association. "It's a very expensive piece to produce, and we just determined it would be prudent to postpone it."

You know, I understand that the War Requiem is an expensive piece to perform. It requires a full orchestra, a chamber orchestra, a full chorus, a boys' choir and soloists, and it's still a rental piece. It's modern and difficult and probably not a huge audience draw, although every time I've seen it performed, it has been to a full house.

However, in a time of war, when the message of Benjamin Britten and Wilfred Owen is as relevant as ever before, and particularly in a community as conservative as Dallas, in which support for the president's increasingly unpopular and idiotic war remains inconceivably high, it is, in my opinion, impossible to cancel a performance of this piece without covering yourself in the stink of artistic cowardice.

I mean, the War Requiem didn't get more expensive to perform in the time since it was programmed by the DSO. But the statement that it stood to make about the futility and pity of war? That just becomes more relevant and desperate (and controversial, at least in this town) by the day. The War Requiem is a vastly important work, one that an audience has much to learn from. It represents the very best of what a contemporary symphony orchestra should be trying to accomplish, bringing music of the highest quality and most significant social relevance to a community. Canceling a performance like this one, even for financial reasons (or perhaps especially so) doesn't just disrespect the veterans who have faced these issues in a slightly more harrowing setting than a cushy concert hall. It disrespects art.

Because I have become a grouchy old man, I sent an email saying as much to the DSO back in May. After getting a response from an anonymous Patron Services Center representative (a response that felt like a canned response, which I found to be a hopeful sign since it suggests I'm not the only person who responded negatively), I sent the following, which pretty accurately represents my current thinking about the issue and the responsibility of artists in troubled times.

I did not receive a response. I did not require one.

-----

Subject: War Requiem
From: robert@schuylersmonster.com
Date: May 21, 2007
To: customerservice@dalsym.com

I understand the financial difficulties of putting together a performance like that. But it is also unfortunate and frankly suspect timing that this piece should find itself on the block in the midst of a controversial and politically charged time of war. Britten's piece is divorced of politics, addressing instead the undeniable horror, futility and suffering of war, topics that go beyond politics and patriotism and force the listener, no matter what their partisan beliefs, to look deeper. Regardless of the financial reasons for doing so, canceling your performance of this piece in particular sends a strong message, and not a positive one.

Music matters. The artistic choices that an orchestra makes send a message to a community. If this is a matter of purely financial concern, then I and a great many other will be watching your choice of replacement repertoire with great interest. I wish you the best of luck in maintaining your organization's artistic integrity as you make that choice.

Robert Rummel-Hudson
Plano, TX

Armchair Apocrypha

Speaking of music I like, NPR is featuring Andrew Bird on their website. Specifically, they're focusing on a song from his new album, Armchair Apocrypha.

Let's take a hypothetical scenario for a moment. Suppose a hypothetical but extremely cool reader sent me a hypothetical copy of the new album, due out in a month or so. What would my hypothetical opinion be?

I'd say it was awesome, with a move away from the acoustic sound of his most recent stuff but once again totally unique.

You know. Hypothetically.

(Edited to make it clear that I have (hypothetically) already been sent the cd. This wasn't an attempt to weasel free stuff out of anyone. Don't worry, you'll know when I'm mooching.)

Quiet

Originally uploaded by Citizen Rob.

I know I've been quiet lately. I suspect that's not going to change any time soon.

Want to know what I listen to when I feel quiet? I found a short excerpt of one of my favorites.

Old & Lost Rivers, by Tobias Picker

I'm listening to it now. It's funny how the loudest noises in the head can be drowned out by something as quiet and ethereal as this.

I hope everyone's having a nice Valentine's Day.

Happy birthday, dead guy.

100 years of Shostakovich
Originally uploaded by Citizen Rob.

I would be a bad bad Prophet of Dmitri if I didn't take note of the 100th Anniversary of the birth of my favorite composer, Dmitri Shostakovich.

There's not another artistic figure who has had as great an impact on my musical life as Shostakovich, but that's not the whole story. He is also a personal hero of mine, someone who lived in the most oppressive society in human history and managed to not only survive but also to create a body of work that expresses the reality of life in Stalinist Russia with an emotional honesty and clarity that would have been impossible in any other artistic genre.

When Schuyler was a baby, I promised her I'd take her to Russia in the summer of 2006 to celebrate this anniversary with her. Obviously, it ultimately turned out to be undoable. I would feel uncomfortable traveling in Russia with a non-verbal child, and I'd feel uncomfortable traveling anywhere in the world thanks to our non-sentient president. But I'll be listening to Shostakovich's music today, and reflecting on his life.

If you missed it, I wrote an entry about Shostakovich a few years ago, and also a little something about going to see his amazing opera Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk last January. There's even a big gloomy excerpt if you feel like bumming yourself out.

So there you go. Some artsy fartsy music jabber for you.

What I'm Listening to Tonight

The Things You Love Will Destroy You, by Luke Chueh
Originally uploaded by Citizen Rob.

Tables and Chairs by Andrew Bird

If we can call them friends we can call them on red telephones
and they won't pretend that they're too busy or they're not alone.
If we can call them friends we can call,
holler at 'em down these hallowed halls,
but we can't let the human factor fail to be a factor at all.

Don't, don't you worry
about the atmosphere
or any sudden pressure change.

'Cause I know
that it's starting
to get warm in here
and things are
starting to get strange.

And did you
did you see how
all our friends were there
drinkin' roses from the can?

How, how I wish I
I had talked to them
and wished they
fit into the plan.

And we were tired of being mild.
We were so tired of being mild.
And we were tired.

I know we're gonna meet someday in the crumbled financial institutions of this land.
There will be tables and chairs,
there'll be pony rides and dancing bears,
there'll even be a band.
'Cause listen after the fall there'll be no more countries
no currencies at all.
We're gonna live on our wits
gonna throw away survival kits
trade butterfly knives for adderal.
And that's not all.
Woah!
There will be snacks, there will
there will be snacks!

And we were tired of being mild.
We were so tired of being mild.
And we were so tired.

So don't you, don't you worry
about the atmosphere.

There will be snacks.

Powerlines at sunset
Originally uploaded by Citizen Rob.

Tonight is my last night as music manager at The Monolith.

This weekend I am shooting a wedding, and this time I'll be shooting it solo, not as part of a team. I'll simply be the photographer, or as I'll be thinking it in my head, The Photographer.

And next Wednesday, I start my new job as Coordinator of Communications for the School of Architecture at the University of I'mnottellingyouwhere.

So while this hasn't been a great day (I had to cancel my diabetic nutrition class because it turns out that my insurance won't cover it, so I have to fight with them again, and some snotty little North Dallas kids were nasty to Schuyler), I am nevertheless feeling hopeful and excited about the future.

One of my favorite Andrew Bird songs, Tables and Chairs, describes the world after the collapse of financial institutions, when there will be no more countries or currencies. In this world, Bird says, we'll throw away our survival kits and be free. There will be tables and chairs, pony rides and dancing bears and a band. Best of all, he sings, "there will be snacks".

I like that.

Here comes the devil

The Red Stick Ramblers
Originally uploaded by Citizen Rob.

I have a musical confession to make today.

Do you know the old big band chart Sing Sing Sing? It was originally a Louis Prima song, but the version that everyone knows is the Benny Goodman arrangement, with that sexy tom-tom drumming by Gene Krupa that runs through it. You'd know exactly what I'm talking about if you heard it. You hear that drumming in some arrangements of Duke Ellington's Caravan, too.

Well, my confession? That style of drumming makes me crazy happy. If a song has it, chances are excellent that I'll like it. Love it, even.

One good example is the Old 97's song Four Leaf Clover, from their album "Too Far To Care". When the drums start up, I become totally fixated.

The reason I bring this up today is that I've got a new one that I've been listening to, from a jazz/cajun/whatever group down in Louisiana called the Red Stick Ramblers. (I've written about them before.) The song is called The Devil with the Devil, and in addition to those drums I dig so much, it features the catchy lyrics that the Red Stick Ramblers are known for, inasmuch as they are known at all.

So there you are. Red Stick Ramblers. Go get you some.