A Season of Superlatives
During the season in which I write this, it is almost impossible to avoid Charles Dickens’ inky thumbprint on our culture. There is a pervasive
During the season in which I write this, it is almost impossible to avoid Charles Dickens’ inky thumbprint on our culture. There is a pervasive
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
“Traveling,” said Mme. de Staël, “is a melancholy pleasure.” I’m inclined to concur, despite the chorus of protest that will rise with discordant variations on
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
My wife and I were fortunate this past month to hear a program of Spanish and Latin American piano music, with commentary, offered as part
When I launched The Syncopated Times this past February, I made it my policy never to apologize to readers for anything except publishing information that
Even when writing about a topic as delightful and congenial as early jazz, it’s quite impossible to avoid controversy. To be fair, just about everyone
From the time I was a mere child until the present day, people have felt that they could say anything at all to me. Sometimes
I have previously written in this space about “dread.” I then referred to a more general foreboding—which still occasionally visits me, in spite of my
On April 9, my wife Sue and I were delighted to attend a performance by Vince Giordano and the Nighthawks in Upper Nyack, New York.
Let me confess: I am mentally unequipped to adjust to the real possibility of joy. Before taking on my new life as publisher of this
I have been allowed to live on this planet (by virtue of not being worth the energy to throttle) for fifty-three years. It’s a lovely
It was a dream: my wife and I were in a large old auditorium which, instead of theater seating, had a polished hardwood dance floor.