“Clair from the Moon” by Joseph Raciti

I received a link to a video clip along with the following email today from a musician named Joseph Raciti:

I had a sneaking suspicion that this little short might interest you and the readers of your blog for its jazzy spin on Debussy’s “Clair De Lune” and the windy conditions the main character is in.

I checked out Joseph’s clip, and I agree with him. Joe has put together a jewel-like little piece of creativity with some very cool jazz piano playing.  Naturally, I got curious about Joseph’s blog overall. I was not disappointed. It’s clearly the product of an artistic mind–well-written, colorful, and studded with other video vignettes similar in spirit to the one he’s shared here.

Update: Joe’s blog evidently has been taken down since I wrote this post. Unfortunate. I’m removing him from my blogroll, but I wish him well on his further creative ventures.

Remembering the Super Tuesday Outbreak

A year has passed since a swarm of eighty-seven tornadoes churned across Dixie Alley, claiming fifty-seven lives over a two-day period from February 5-6, 2008. Beginning on the day when twenty-four states were holding their Democratic primary elections, the Super Tuesday Outbreak has gone down in the books as the deadliest tornado outbreak since the full implementation of NEXRAD, and one of the worst in history.

The outbreak packed twenty-one confirmed strong tornadoes, including five rated at EF3, and five violent EF4s. One of the latter carved a 122-mile swath across Arkansas–the longest continuous tornado path in that state’s records.

My storm chasing partner Bill and I made it as far south as Louisville, where we intercepted one supercell and then headed back east to Corydon, Indiana, parked, and let the squall line slam into us. You can read my chase account here. Had we left a little earlier, we’d have made it farther south and likely would have seen some of the tornadoes. One came as close to our position as Brandenburg, Kentucky, just a handful of miles away.

Storm season 2009 is drawing near. Today the skies are blue, clouds are scooting along on a brisk low-level jet, and temperatures are in the fifties. This next week looks to be an active one, and while I don’t expect much more than rain in the Great Lakes, it’s nice to see the Gulf of Mexico setting up shop and giving us a taste of springtime weather. Rain instead of snow is good! And warmer temperatures will be with us for at least this next week. I doubt we’ve seen the last of mid-teens, cold-air intrusions, but if we have, I won’t go into mourning.

Storms of 2008 DVD

I just received my new Storms of 2008 DVD in the mail a couple days ago, and I have to say, it’s fabulous! Having been thoroughly smitten with its predecessor, Storms of 2007, featuring its remarkable coverage of the historical Greensburg, Kansas, EF5 tornado, I was skeptical that any subsequent effort could live up to such high standards. But I have to say, this latest in the celebrated “Storms of…” series has more than met the challenge. Simply put, this is a stellar work, and if you’re at all a fan of storm chasing, you need to buy it, period.

And when you make your purchase, know that your $24.95 goes directly to helping disaster victims across the United States. The “Storms of…” series is an organized effort on the part of the storm chasing community to make a tangible difference in the lives of people who have been directly affected by severe weather and other natural disasters.

Judging by the remarkable footage in this DVD–often sublime and at times mind-boggling–you’d never guess that it is a grassroots effort. Yet, as with all the videos in the “Storms of…” series, Storms of 2008 is strictly a product of the storm chasing community. As such, it is a tour de force of the remarkable talent pool within that community. Videographers, meteorologists, seasoned storm chasers, gifted amateurs…all these and others besides have worked hard and long to produce a world-class video and a true labor of love.

The history-making Super Tuesday Tornado Outbreak that scoured Dixie Alley on February 5…the late-May tube-fest that blotted SPC storm reports with red for the better part of a week…the beautiful Dighton wall cloud…the Quinter EF4 duo…the tragic Parkersburg, Iowa, EF5…they’re all here plus a whole lot more, complete with synoptic analyses and topnotch narration.

Am I saying that you have absolutely gotta, gotta, gotta purchase this exceptional DVD? Yup, that’s what I’m saying. Just do it, okay? You can thank me later for being so pushy. Your money will help to make a real difference in people’s lives, and trust me, you’ll love what you get in return. Storms of 2008 is the definitive anthology of last year’s convective Armageddon in the United States. Buy here. Or visit the Storms of 2008 website to obtain more information and view a video trailer.

To the devoted cast of producers, editors, and engineers who faced the challenges and frustrations of making Storms of 2008 happen–BRAVO! And thanks!

Emile De Cosmo and the Polytonal Rhythm Series

I got a most pleasant surprise today while checking my voice mail. A gentleman named Emile De Cosmo had left a message saying that he had run across my post on jazz contrafacts while researching the topic online, and inviting me to call him back. Emile mentioned that he is a jazz educator who has written twenty-six books, and wondered whether maybe I’d heard of his material.

Are you kidding? Heck yes, I’d heard of his books, and of Emile. I’ve known of Emile since back in my college jazz studies days, when I first encountered an ad in Downbeat for his Polytonal Rhythm Series and ordered one of the books from that series.  Good grief–Emile De Cosmo, calling me? What an honor!

Of course I returned Emile’s call, and we had a most enjoyable chat. Besides being a passionate and thoughtful jazz educator, Emile is a genuinely nice, warm, down-to-earth guy, easy to talk to and well worth listening to. Unfortunately, our conversation got cut short by a bad signal on my cell phone, but I look forward to reconnecting with Emile and picking up where we left off. At 84 years old, he’s still going strong, writing books and developing his didactic concepts in jazz. He may be retired from university instruction, but the educator in him doesn’t appear to have taken so much as a breather.

Having visited Emile’s site, I’m struck by how much thought and time the man has invested into perfecting his ideas about helping others develop a fluent technique and “big ears.” The Polytonal Rhythm Series was a magnum opus in itself, but Emile and his wife, Laura, have developed more material over the years. With my interest reawakened, I purchased The Diatonic Cycle and have my sights set on The Path to Jazz Improvisation. I’m also intrigued by The Tritone Cycle, but that can wait. I expect that I’ll have my hands full for a while with the first book once it arrives. The timing is perfect; I’ve been wanting something to help me expand my saxophone practice in a different direction.

Emile, if you read this post, it was great talking with you! I look forward to our next chat. Keep up the great work!

Of Sunset Calendars and Skunk Cabbage

February. Ah, February. From the beginning to the end of this month, we gain an hour and twelve minutes of daylight here in Caledonia, Michigan. That’s thirty-seven minutes in the morning and thirty-five minutes in the evening. Sunset on the 28th will be at 6:31p.m. I call that a pretty good deal, and I’m pleased to see warmer temperatures this weekend giving us a taste, however temporary, of longer, pleasanter days to come.

It’s amazing how much the sunrise/sunset times vary from north to south and east to west in a single state. I won’t cite examples, but if you’re curious enough to find out for yourself, here’s a link to the U.S. Naval Observatory chart to help you do so. Time is stated in military format for the time zone of the particular town you choose, whether EST for Shamokin, Pennsylvania, or MT for Denver, Colorado.

Anyway…the days really are getting longer. Believe it or not, the beginning of the spring wildflower parade isn’t all that far away. It starts subtly, though, and humbly, with the lowly skunk cabbage. I love this odd-looking little plant that sends up its mottled, marroon-and-green hoods in the swamps, often amid melting drifts of snow. Smell a broken piece from any part of the plant and the aroma of burnt rubber and raw onions will quickly tell you that the name skunk cabbage is an apt one. But the plant is nonetheless one of my favorites, both because of its quirky nature and because it is a true harbinger of spring.

As is true of most people, there’s far more to the skunk cabbage than meets the eye. In fact, I smell a post coming up for a future WaterlandLiving blog. Can’t wait to see this pioneer of the wildflowers start putting in its appearance, possibly as early as the end of this month and certainly by mid-March. Once I spot the skunk cabbage, I know that spring is underway at last. And I’m ready for spring, aren’t you?

GroundHog Day

Today is Groundhog Day. I don’t know whether Punxatawney Phil saw his shadow, but I have to say, I’m not willing to live or die by his abilities as a long-range weather forecaster. When it comes to chewing on roots and leaves, groundhogs’ abilities shine; as meteorologists, though, I’m less inclined to place much confidence in them.

Besides, this business of a groundhog seeing his shadow could hang on a matter of a minute or two. The day here in Michigan started out cloudy–lousy weather for viewing shadows. By around 2:15, it had cleared up, the sun was shining, and shadows could be had for cheap. Maybe Pennsylvania experienced similar circumstances, I don’t know. Did Phil go on the prowl for his shadow in the morning or the afternoon? That could make a difference. If you ask me, it all seems pretty arbitrary.

I have more confidence in the forecast models. Even though next week’s surge of moisture is a week away, I’ve got something reasonably substantial to pin my expectations on. This is the time of year when I start to get my hopes up. Action in Dixie Alley next Sunday or Monday? Could be. Looks like mid-fifties dewpoints may work their way as far north as southern Illinois. Right now, it’s just conjecture, wishcasting. But overall, while ol’ Phil seems like a nice enough fellow, I think the GFS packs a bit more credibility when it comes to the weather.

Phil Woods and David Sanborn Play “Willow, Weep for Me”

I just finished watching this YouTube video of Phil Woods and David Sanborn, and I am just blown away. No words for this rendition of “Willow, Weep for Me.” Just listen, that’s all I can say.

Sunset Photos and Sax Licks

We finally got a break in the gray skies and snows. Today’s morning sun rose into a flawless sky, and sunshine predominated all day long, along with warmer–which, at thirty-two degrees, is not to say warm, but an improvement on what we’ve had–temperatures.

I grabbed my saxophone and my camera and headed out to Grand Ledge this afternoon, and on the way out there, I grabbed my first workout in months. I haven’t been in the gym since last October, I’ve been feeling the lack of exercise, and I finally decided the time had come to get back into my workouts. So I dropped in at a modest but great little weight lifting gym out by Lake Odessa and ran through a quick, twenty-minute break-in routine. One set per movement is enough; I’ll be feeling the pain Monday when it comes time for my next bout in the gym.

Anyway…I took a number of photos out near Grand Ledge. The ones I liked best were of an old, deserted farmstead at sunset. Thought I’d share a couple with you.

Old Shed at Sundown

Old Shed at Sundown

The Sun Sinks Lower

The Sun Sinks Lower

Afterwards, I found a place to park my car and practice my saxophone. It has been a while since I’ve spent time on my horn. I’ve been writing a book and have been singularly focused on that, and I need to exercise a little balance, tend to other things that are also important. Staying on top of my sax is right up there at the top. It felt good to limber up my fingers and run through some Charlie Parker licks.

It takes discipline to be a good jazz musician. Licks and ideas you think you own for keeps can desert you after a while if you don’t practice consistently. Fortunately, I’d only been away from my axe for a bit, not long enough to damage me. But it always feels good when I pick it back up.

Not Enough Tornadoes

Here is a conversation you’re unlikely to overhear at a restaurant:

“I’m going to move.”

“Why? Vermont is such a beautiful state.”

“Not enough tornadoes. I’m thinking maybe Hays, Kansas.”

Nope, you just won’t hear most people talk that way. A generous supply of tornadoes simply isn’t a big selling point for the average homebuyer. On the other hand, if you’re a storm chaser, it could be a compelling reason to sell your chalet near Boise, Idaho, and move to Wakeeney.

I just finished perusing a thread on Stormtrack where chasers were considering this question. The earnestness of the discussion struck my funny bone. I mean, the concept of moving somewhere because it has lots of tornadoes is utterly foreign to most Americans, who are unmotivated by tornado accessibility. In fact, I’d venture to say that many people would consider the idea downright weird. (“You’re moving where because of what?“)

Chasers, however, seem to see nothing unusual about factoring in tornado statistics as a motivating factor in home buying.  It’s weird. And the reason I laugh is because I can relate. I’m not ready to pack up my bags and move from Michigan, because busted economy or not, I love this state. But if I ever do move, it won’t be to California because of the ocean, or Florida because of the warm weather, or Vermont because of its rural New England beauty. It’ll be to the Great Plains because of the dryline.

Realistically, I can’t see it happening anytime soon. I might be able to find a location with a decent brewpub, such as Wichita, but where would I go to hear some decent live jazz, let alone play it? That side of me is as important as the storm chaser in me. Maybe the two can be reconciled. To be honest, I’m not too worried about it. It’s just fun to think about, and certainly worth laughing about.

I do kinda wonder, though, what it would cost to build an underground bunker as a vacation home in the Texas panhandle.

Why I Hate Snow

I really don’t hate snow. Loathe it, yes.  Wish it would rot in hell like the fourfold abomination it is, certainly. But hate? Come, now, what is there to hate about snow, other than the fact that it’s cold, wet, miserable, a road hazard, and an overall royal pain in the keister?

Hmmm…judging from my attitude, we’re definitely moving on toward February, when attitudes toward snow here in Michigan tend to shift from  aesthetic appreciation to pragmatism. It takes both an artist and a pragmatist to live in this state year-round.

Okay, I confess: I really don’t hate snow. I just like to gripe about it, that’s all. Looking outside today at the large, white flakes drifting out of the late January sky, I don’t mind admitting that the stuff is downright pretty, and winter wouldn’t be winter without it. From a practical standpoint, we need all the snow we can get, lots and lots of it, to bring the Great Lakes levels back up to snuff from their alarmingly low levels. And just between you and me, speaking as an aesthete, I’d miss snow if we didn’t have it. It’s part of Michigan, and I sure do love this state.

So come on, snow! Hit me with your best shot and see if I don’t come up smiling and asking for more.

I probably won’t. But I’m still glad it’s snowing. Hurray for snow.

I hope it goes away soon, though.