Static From My Attic

As I wrote the thumbnail bio of Guy Lombardo for the Jazz Birthday of the Month today, I had vague feelings of déjà vu. This

We often hear stories of various wunderkinder who, as soon as their pudgy toddler hands become articulated enough to thump keys on a keyboard, play

I have always found it difficult to ask for assistance, even when I have clearly needed it. This reluctance to accept help may be an

If I’ve learned anything in the almost sixty-one years I’ve been on this planet—and it’s doubtful I have—it’s that I’m destined to be the guy

Artificial stupidity will never replace the real thing. This motto, of which I should commission an embroidered sampler, is brought home to me on a

In the interval between publishing the previous issue and the current one, a little something called ChatGPT has come into being. It bids fair to

There are months (and this is one of them) when I feel I am at best a poor servant of Jazz. I’m like one of

In this dim and chilly season, as snowbirds migrate south and leaves fall from the trees, I turn from my preoccupation with my own foibles

For this month’s column, I cede the floor to Michael Steinman, who published the following kind commentary about me on his excellent site, jazzlives.wordpress.com. I

As I write this month’s column, it’s challenging to find words to express the depth of my gratitude. I am deeply thankful to all those

I find myself sitting here with the words that invariably manifest themselves as I write my Static column for each issue: It’s been a month.

Have I told you lately that contention makes me tired? Just when I think it’s possible to pause and enjoy a moment of relative serenity,

Well, it’s been quite month. Of course, for me, every month is “quite a month”—but this one, if it were a physical rather than an

I was lucky to grow up in a community that was ethnically (if not racially) diverse. Certain nationalities predominated, and in the cul-de-sac where I

Not that I want to brood on untoward anniversaries, but this month marks two years since everything shut down, but good. I find with some

Since publishing my first issue of The Syncopated Times six years ago this month, the time has just flown. It doesn’t feel like a minute

Over the past two years all of us have had to recalibrate our definition of “normal.” It used to be typical that we would see

I’ve never considered myself one for taking risks. I was always that kid whose knees buckled at the notion of climbing to the highest diving

Let me confess here that I have long had a love of Classic Calypso. I’m referring specifically to the lively and witty Trinidadian music recorded

In every issue of The Syncopated Times, I mean to celebrate the life force; syncopation itself is the pulse of life. The beat of one’s

In my capacity as publisher of The Syncopated Times, one of the duties I must fulfill is that of cheerleader for the music. It’s necessary

It often happens that, when I need to cleanse my palate of the taste of drudgery that this gig engenders, I will browse our local

The reader will note that a rather morbid undercurrent has run through this column over the past two months. In May, I noted the death

By the time you hold this paper in your hand, I will have achieved the grim distinction of being exactly the same age New Yorker