On Safari to Stay: Key-Hammering with Peter Serkin

A High Culture Treat in the Hinterlands

Two rules of this blog - rarely, but in extraordinary cases, broken - are:

1. Don't post about people whom you nearly, but don't actually, meet - and
2. Don't post about people whom you line up to meet at a performance (as in, standing in line to get Whitey Ford's autograph at the Hall of Fame induction ceremony in Cooperstown, lining up outside the stage door to meet Jeff Goldblum or Patti Smith, or buying a plate at a fundraiser where your hangdog Congressman is going to appear)

I may or may not be walking the line here, but what the heck:

Elegance, Understatement... Malaise

Last evening, my wife and I were lucky guests of one of the major sponsors at the season Opening Night of the Springfield Symphony, featuring a performance by renowned pianist Peter Serkin.  Our gracious host had an appointment to meet with Peter following the performance and champagne reception, and invited us to join him.

Serkin dazzled at the piano seat with three movements of the Bartok Piano Concerto & Orchestra #3.  From our third row seats 3/4 to the left, I had a great, close-up view of the underside of Pete's right sleeve, palm and fingertips, as he tickled the ivories - particularly on the very tender and striking 2nd movement, Adagio religioso.

The prospect of meeting piano scion Serkin was interesting to me for a more personal reason: my brother, also a pianist of international high acclaim, had done a residency at Tanglewood three summers ago and, at the time, performed a Brahms sonata with cello - originally for violin - for Peter in the Serkin home.  Not a bad ice-breaker, thought yours truly.

Well, Mr. Serkin exited stage left following the Bartok and preceding the intermission.  Finished with his own part of the program, the pianist alerted the stage manager he was feeling ill, and he retired before 'we-the-highbrows' could finish hearing the rest of the program and move to the room where Junior Leaguers were pouring the champagne.

Where's Pete? Never saw him again.

At Symphony Hall - L: Virtuoso Serkin (dov'e?)   R: Vagabundo Porter

Tell the teacher we're Serkin' - Serkin' U.S.A. !

Mor-ton!! Backing up Mr. Kondracke in the Pew

Kondracke: One of the Last True Journalists

I became familiar with Morton Kondracke as many did in the 1980's, by watching The McLaughlin Group - in its time a jarring "pundit / shouter" show that seemed boisterous, but maintained a higher level of discourse et decorum than almost any of its 21st century cable news descendants.  By today's standards it is quaint, even dignified.  How we've devolved!

When I joined St. Columba's Church congregation, I eventually settled into a regular seat in the second pew, right of the aisle.  Mor-ton! was the regular in the first pew, with his dear wife Milly.

Over nearly ten years, we exchanged the peace hundreds of times.

Milly passed away in 2004.  R.I.P.

We also got to know each other just a bit.  For instance, I very much enjoyed a half-day enrichment session that he led at the church, organized by our rector Jim Donald, called "Working for the Common Good."  Mort led our small group in a series of explorations on finding soulful meaning in one's daily work.  Tom Chappell of Tom's (of Maine) Toothpaste also shared the couch with Morton for this nice and uplifting Saturday's exercise.

Mort has served as Executive Editor of both New Republic and Roll Call, written for the Wall Street Journal and appeared on numerous TV news outlets.  He got his start as President of The Dartmouth newspaper and incidentally, as a class of '60 grad, he overlapped there with Chris Miller in the Animal House era.  To-ga!

When I mentioned once that I knew him, my mother, a Morton fan, instructed me to ask him "What kind of a name is 'Kondracke,' anyway - Assyrian?"

Morton is a genuinely nice, committed, caring guy who works his tail off and thinks clearly about what he has to say before spouting off.

I admire Mort Kondracke!

Citizen Kelley: Standing with Local Hero Larry Kelley

Sound and Fury

(Amherst, MA. September 11): 
We in scholarly Amherst like to think we're the center of wisdom.

Nevertheless, often, we can be as closed-minded as many an academic 'burg - and in our most grandiose overreaches we achieve a pettiness, didacticism and tragedy worthy of Horton Foote's Orphans' Home Cycle characters of Harrison, East Texas.

Not that there's anything wrong with that...! 

Kevin Joy and Larry Kelley unfurl the Big One on the Town Common, 2011

Counterpoint: Each year on September 11, Larry Kelley and many other local citizens, police and firefighters help bring attention to this momentous day in the history and life of our nation.  Believe it or not, this upsets some in the town.

Viewed from within the Amherst bubble, Fox News appears downright alien

Larry was called to Boston last week to appear on Fox News, to explain to the rest of Planet Earth just how we in Amherst make sense of things, such as debating whether and how we ought to raise the flag on 9/11.   Predictably, we have a Professor here in town who attested before the Town Select Board on September 10, 2001 - the evening before the attacks - that Amherst should not fly the American flag because "[The U.S.] flag is a symbol of terrorism and death and fear and destruction and oppression."  This was eleven years ago, and got us plenty of attention in the aftermath as you would imagine.

What's rich is that so many fellow travelers here used to believe (circa 2000-2008) that dissent was the highest form of patriotism; now, in our current 'flap' over whether to raise the flag on 9/11 we simultaneously prove, and truly get to re-test, this maxim.

Tell It, Brother

Fast forward to 2012: There's more to the story, but in a nutshell one third of the town electors like to see the flag, so citizens get to see it once every fifth year.  What ???  Essentially, many in Amherst have "mixed feelings" about being part of the United States, the balance know that the town should observe 9/11, and so the Select Board put the flag-flying to a vote of the unruly 200+ Town Meeting congregation some years ago and - like Mayor Villaraigosa last week - made the determination that the vote had gone 2:1 against flying the flags.  The ingenious solution? Fly the flags every third year, to reflect public sentiment!  Then, at ten years, the Select Board voted to make it every fifth year because - I suppose - 5 years is an easier rhythm to remember than 3.

You're Wearing That, Larry ??

As town gadfly, Larry Kelley's daily local impact - and his occasional national prominence - are notorious, and thus frequently rankle the populace and the powers that be.

Flag-raising is only one front for soldier Kelley, and this week's national media attention not the first time he's figured in Amherst's questionable notoriety.

Loyal local patriot Stanley Dornakowski

In large part through Larry's civic-minded agitation, the melodramas of Amherst's high school drama department - (1999: first school or town ever to ban West Side Story, which has been performed in over 3,000 communities, over imaginary "racism"; 2004: righteous acting-out by staging the Vagina Monologues) -  have brought Amherst under Good Morning America's lens and drawn international O'Reilly Factor scrutiny for the healthy dose of opprobrium that some think we so richly deserve.

Fanfare for the Common Man (photo - C. Jones)

Larry is also an entrepreneur (and married to an entrepreneurship professor - they know what-of they speak in that household) who has operated a successful local fitness and instruction business, and had a hand in establishing a superior Chinese Immersion Charter School in the area, naturally a threat to the local public school hegemony.

Now he energetically publishes the fine "hyper-local" news blog Only In Amherst.

Larry holds everyone's feet to the fire, including mine.  He forces the town government to be more transparent, the school committee more accountable, the university - administration, students, and the larger eco-system such as party-house landlords - to be more responsible.

He raises the standards of local journalism through competition and innovation.

We need more Larry Kelleys.

Cinda and Larry frame the real issue

As a sixth generation Amherst native, Larry also contributes much to the community in his role of ersatz local history curator.  The current speculation on the existence of a second photographic image of our Emily Dickinson is something Larry reported on 3 weeks ahead of the local press, and he has the bloodline to pursue the facts.  Larry is a Local Hero.

Remember Our Heroes today

And meet two of mine: Ann Judge and Jerry Della Salla

Mudhoney Soundgarden Sub-Pop Eating Crew

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner...

What a pair of fortunate sons: had seen Soundgarden with Bowled Geoffe ("Hunted Down!") when they appeared at the New Music Seminar summer '88 Sub-Pop showcase at CBGB's, and we were itching for more of the stompin' Cornell/Thayil blend of drone-riff-wailing.  This night in March 1989, the Soundgardeners would support headline act Mudhoney, and we were also keen to experience first-hand Arm/Turner/Peters/Lukin's raw power energy.

Hangin' at raucous Maxwell's in Hoboken, and we went in early for dinner before the show.

As our rollicking crew that included John Keim and Jim Bresson sat in the front room for dinner, we could hear the sound check winding up in the back, and then in walked the Seattle grunge crew... who sat right down at the two tables next to ours.  So this is the evening we "ate dinner with Soundgarden and Mudhoney."

Thayil: Brother Injoys

We had just been served.  When Soundgarden's turn came to order, Kim Thayil asked the waiter about the pasta with sausage and the waiter pointed at my plate.  "How is that, man?" Kim asked me.  "Pretty good, man!" I responded.

He ordered "what that guy's having," we gave each other the knowing nod, and went right on with our lives.

The show was incredible - high energy and crazed audience participation, in a very close space.

Cornell and crew blasted off, propelled by the walnut-grinder riffs of pasta fan Thayil and the rhythm & beat of Dave Cameron/Hiro Yamamoto.  They ended with a medley of Working Man/18/Communication Breakdown that sent the place up in flames.

I'm A Boy And I'm A Man

I was partial to Soundgarden already, so I thought they ought to have been the headliners.  But once the Mudhoney "Superfuzz Bigmuff" rocket-ride tore the roof off, we were sent into orbit and at one point found ourselves shoulder-to-shoulder with Thayil, oscillating in frenzy at the lip of the stage. 

Here is a decent account of the Mudhoney set and the general vibe:

3/11/89 Maxwell's. Hoboken, NJ (55 min) [ Thanks "Tourbook" ]

He doesn't mention it but at one point in "Mud-ride," Mark Arm surfed over the crowd on his back, holding onto the wired mike, made a few mid-song oscillations, and then used the mike cord to reel himself hand-over-hand back to stage, as the stack into which his mike was plugged teetered and lurched precariously.  Amp, Arm and crowd on the very knife edge.

But an hour and a half earlier, we were knifing into our grungy grub together like hungry workingmen, ready for anything - ready to screeeeeeeeeam!

* * * * * * *

Q: Why a Mudhoney beer?  [ Thanks for the account below, Sunbreak ]

Timing Dispute: "I know whatcherthinkinpunk: was it 1989 or only 1988? Well to tell you the truth, in all this confusion, I'm not too sure myself:"

BURN IT CLEAN

In 1988, I saw Mudhoney at Maxwell’s in Hoboken (editor's note: Likelier, it was the Pyramid Club in Manhattan). About 30 seconds into the second song, they went into overdrive. It was Blue Cheer meets Black Flag. To top it off, they finished the set with the Dicks’ “Hate The Police.” I was hooked. (I kinda felt bad for Live Skull, the headlining act, having to follow that.) So if I had any band to make a beer for, why not them? I contacted Steve Turner and got his thumbs-up.

As with our “higher gravities” theme, it’s 8.5% ABV. I dropped a bottle off at the local record store and heard back that it was “too sweet.” I told them that it’s a mega honey ale. I knew they really didn’t drink it because they were able to type afterwards.