Static From My Attic

I had to reflect, this month, on the passing of JazzTimes publisher Ira Sabin at age 90. In reading his Washington Post obituary I was

 Ingrid Bergman and Charles Boyer in a Screenshot from the trailer of Gaslight (1944) (Public Domain) Having spent my childhood and an unconscionable portion of my

Certain matters of local pride in a community invariably become annoyances to particular members of that community. Twenty years ago we bought a delightful Victorian

(Related Story: Hot Jazz Saturday Night Cancelled) Most of my life I have been fascinated with radio. My childhood, of course, was dominated by television—because

It may indicate a distinctly unbusinesslike attitude, but I regard picking up the telephone receiver to make a call with the same enthusiasm I’d muster

Perhaps it is just my Inner Reactionary talking, but some days I find very little that is delightful about the internet, or (as I am

There is a song, whose title I dare not quote lest I incur the wrath of the copyright holders, that states something to the effect

When I began publishing The Syncopated Times in February 2016, I stated my determination to reach out beyond the arbitrary borders of this country to

Each month when I begin work on the following month’s issue of The Syncopated Times I often think of Sisyphus, king of Ephyra, condemned for

I am old enough to remember when the prospect of having one’s mouth washed out with soap was a credible threat. Not that such a

I don’t find anything especially remarkable about coincidences, except that they seem to happen all the time. Mostly, they occur, are briefly noted, and then

When I think of some of the acts that are chosen to perform at certain jazz festivals, I cannot help but hear the persistent voice

On Dancing Bears, Sarcasm, and the Imperfect Reliability of Electronic Mail At certain times I begin to loathe the internet, resent my computer, and nurse

It occurred to me as I was microwaving my (very) late breakfast of a bean, cheese, and jalapeño burrito, that much offense is taken these

One of the unforeseen side effects of the internet is that everything is made contemporary. For those seeking to commune with the past, one need

In January 2016, when I launched The Syncopated Times as Publisher and Editor, I had not gauged the full import of assuming responsibility for every

There persists a somewhat stereotyped image of The Editor, bolstered by media archetypes Perry White (Superman) and Walter Burns (The Front Page): a cigar-chomping, coffee-swilling

I’m down on heroes at the moment. And by “heroes,” I’m not referring to those genuinely heroic people who rush into burning buildings to save

One of the little-noted casualties of the Social Media revolution is our fluency in composing a simple and heartfelt message of condolence. The Victorians were

A Kind of Immortality There’s something exquisitely ironic about publishing and editing a paper dedicated to joyous and lively syncopated music and not finding the

I face the task of writing this essay with more than a little dread. Last month’s “Static” expressed my views concisely and effectively, and if

Unless you’ve been in a medically-induced coma for a year or two, you will have noted that the times are, as the supposed Chinese curse