R.L. Burnside & Alan Lomax

Alan Lomax is well known as the pre-eminent field recordist and folklorist who helped bring the musical traditions of Appalachia and the Mississippi Delta to the public interest (setting aside his trove of recordings from around the world).  Together with his pioneer folklorist father, John Avery Lomax, their impact on American culture reverberates still. 

For a narrow slice of the Lomax legacy--and a subject close to my heart--collected here are films he made of R.L. Burnside of Holly Springs, Mississippi. I came to know Burnside's music after a series of late 90's remixes on Fat Possum Records and listened back from there.  On a trip to New Orleans, I spotted him in these historic photos, probably taken before he was ever recorded.

These clips offer a look into a verdant, peaceful place where, after long sweltering workdays, Burnside cultivated his sound, picking at home into dusk and playing juke joints into night.

The first tune below is from Sound Machine Groove, an album released in 1997 but recorded in1979 & '80. The film was shot two months before I was born.  In college, I listened to this song over and over--couldn't get enough of that shuffling feel!

Here Burnside's sons get into it.  You can imagine these kids playing along with their dad before they could manage instruments.

Those 90's remixed blues tunes, oddly enough, put R.L. Burnside on folks' radar.  It's where I first heard him, and in one of the tunes he calls out, "On drums, my grandson, Cedric Burnside...".

I've since seen Cedric Burnside playing live to a sparsely occupied venue in Athens, GA.  Most people there didn't understand the tradition that this young guy was carrying forward.  Despite the meager crowd, he was as solid singing behind the drum set as his grandfather was behind a guitar.

One of the comments under this video says it all:  Cedric Burnside is "the best example of a self-actualized person I have ever seen. Pure joy!" Here he is doing a mean hambone with longtime collaborator Trent Ayers.  See if you don't agree.

R.L. Burnside - bio and discography at Fat Possum

R. L. Burnside - Delta Boogie interview

Alan Lomax - at CultureEquity.org, field recordings & plenty more

Living in 'The Spectacular Now'

For an indie with a limited budget, The Spectacular Now received wider than expected exposure due to solid writing and some fine acting, especially from relative newcomer Shailene Woodley.  A glowing reception at Sundance surely helped.  Overall, it's an entertaining film with a hazy patina of teenage angst rife with nebulous ambitions. The protagonists' respective futures are further blurred by questionable coping strategies and a requisite lack of role models. Honestly, there are no definitive happy endings here but neither is it a complete downer.

Although coming-of-age stories are overplayed today (and this one has a bit too much nonchalant underage drinking), the plot here takes a novel route through familiar themes: finding identity in a confusing world, relating to one another when we can, and admitting that our parents' lives are not necessarily ours to repeat.  

I related to the Southeastern setting, Athens, GA to be exact, a midsize town like any other, somewhat depressed with kudzu-covered outskirts. Behind my pup Tallulah is the character Aimee's house from the film, just around the corner from our spot in leafy Normaltown.  For me, even better than the humble low-slung rental itself is the real life neighbors' nifty micro-clearinghouse for miscellanea.

I've picked up many a cool little item from The Awesome Table (and re-gifted as directed): flowerpots, posters, antiques bottles, all manner of useful detritus--useful to someone, at least.  The Spectacular Now has its utility, too, while taking itself just seriously enough for the viewer to follow suit.

Watch the trailer.
More on the director, James Ponsoldt, an Athens, GA native.

Chrome Narcissism

I did it once and I've done it again! It seems like I'm always seeing myself in these classic beauties.  Maybe it was the charm and the shine of my dad's Model A Ford -- the one he built piece-by-piece after countless swapmeets and nights in the dimly-lit, dilapidated garage, and before eBay, finding those original parts took some real legwork.  I snapped these low-res shots at an Athens, GA car/art/fashion show called "The Mystique of the Automobile".

500 Words on Pictures: Make It Then, Now Take It

Walking the dog this morning, a young guy passed in front of me, backlit by the morning sun on the thoroughfare.  He had on a short-billed cap with a hood pulled up half covering his head, and he wore a narrow goatee that he stroked pensively as he strode on.  Because I was listening to a podcast and had the capability in my pocket, the thought flashed through my mind to take his picture.

Most people don't want to have their picture taken by a stranger without permission, so I wondered if asking would do any good.  All this came to mind in the few perpendicular steps it took for him to exit my view and continue on with his morning.  I realized, as I turned the corner, that today we truly take pictures as opposed to one-hundred-plus years ago when pictures were veritably made.

Some cultures believe that the snapshots take a piece of the subject's soul; the photographic process itself, for these peoples, is a way to rob time or a slice of the spirit from a subject, even if permission is granted.  It's no wonder, beyond the pain and suffering of persecution, that photos of Native Americans in the late 1800's portrayed grim faces and steeled eyes, expressions of disdain, sometimes with a glint of fear, and almost always a sense of contempt.

 photo: library.buffalo.edu

To make a photograph used to be such an undertaking, as well.  The laborious process was methodical and painstaking, yielding a product that was a fine record of a moment but only after great effort.  Materials were rather costly, and venues for portraiture were relatively few (not the Glamour Shots in every mall or the portable digital ease of today).  But, the result of having your picture "made" was a lasting sliver of a life at that particular moment and something to be cherished.

Now we "take" pictures because it's just that simple and quick.  For the most part, there isn't any thought given to the process.  Of course, in terms of quality and realism, with the addition of color and high-defintion resolution, the photographs taken today can even venture into hyper-realism.  Even so, what are all those pixels worth if we can no longer see ourselves?

Would this kid be happier in hi-def?

photo: nationalcowboymuseum.org

I recently had a chance to sit for a portrait.  The process made me think about how I look to the rest of the world, how the mirror is only an estimation of my face, my identity.  I recall a Paul Simon lyric to that effect:  "...how I look to a distant constellation that's dying in the corner of the sky" or thereabouts. Maybe this is is what the Native Americans sensed; it was better to be as one was, without seeing from the outside, rather sensing oneself through the mind's eye instead of the camera's.

Spontaneous Self-Portrait

The double image was incidental, but it turned out. I was just loving the condition of this classic woody and the sky was perfectly overcast, so inspiration struck. Too bad it's only 5.0 megapixel resolution--better than nothing, though.

Tallulah...so intense!

This shot is from Summer 2008 after a good, long stay on Power Island in Northern Michigan. I think she looks pretty concerned that she would have to re-enter civil society after the free, wild time she'd spent on the island. She doesn't mind the boat, but I know at that moment she'd rather have been swimming for a tennis ball, for sure!