First-time listening for October, 2007

17668. (Albert Rous­sel) Sym­pho­ny #2, Op.23
17669. (Albert Rous­sel) Sym­pho­ny #4, Op.53
Rough Guide to the Music of Thai­land:
. . . . 17670. (Man Motor­gai) “Hae Nang Maew”
. . . . 17671. (Namoiy Tham­malang­ka) “Lam Yai Lam Poon”
. . . . 17672. (Surasak Don­chai) “Phin Solo ‘Tran­scen­den­tal Tech­nique’ ”
. . . . 17673. (Mike Piromporn) “Lerk Dai Lerm Bor Dai”
. . . . 17674. (Siri­porn Aumpiapong) “Rang Jai Rai Wan”
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READING – OCTOBER 2007

15347. (Adju­tor Rivard) Chez Nous, Our Old Que­bec Home [tr. W.H. Blake, ill.A.Y. Jack­son]
15348. (Jean Pierre Waltz­ing) Étude his­torique sur les cor­po­ra­tions pro­fes­sion­nelles chez
. . . . . les Romains, vol.1
(Nel­ly Han­na –ed.) Mon­ey, Land and Trade: An Eco­nom­ic His­to­ry of the Mus­lim
. Mediter­ranean:
. . . . 15349. (Nel­ly Han­na) Intro­duc­tion [pref­ace]
. . . . 15350. (Nico­las Michel) The Indi­vid­ual and the Col­lec­tiv­i­ty in the Agri­cul­tur­al
. . . . . . . . Econ­o­my of Pre-Colo­nial Moroc­co [arti­cle]
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Oscar Peterson Plays Duke Ellington

https _jazzinphoto.files.wordpress.com_2012_11_carel-l-de-vogel-jazzpianist-oscar-peterson-1959It took me a long time to get into Oscar Peter­son. His com­po­si­tions seem, at first, to be casu­al lit­tle puffs, dashed off effort­lessly. This is an illu­sion. As you let them sink in, you real­ize what incred­i­ble pre­ci­sion, con­trol, and sub­tlety they have. Peter­son is as cool as a plate of sliced cucum­bers served on a bed of fresh­ly fall­en snow, but there is an emo­tional pow­er behind it. The pre­ci­sion itself becomes an emo­tional state­ment: this is exact­ly how things should be, this is where this note belongs, this is the pre­cise one hun­dredth of a sec­ond it should be struck.… see! Not for every­one, but for those who feel it, it’s ambrosia.

Peter­son is with­out con­test Canada’s jazz giant, the man who speaks for us. Duke Elling­ton is just as deeply Amer­i­can. Their jazz pan­theon is so huge that he can’t claim unchal­lenged pri­macy, but sure­ly he’s among the great­est Amer­i­can jazzmen. Like Peter­son, Elling­ton was a per­fec­tion­ist, a man who planned every note, a clas­si­cist at heart. He didn’t much resem­ble the trou­bled, errat­ic genius­es that peo­ple asso­ciate with jazz. His bril­liance was so obvi­ous that noth­ing could keep his com­po­si­tions out of the sym­phonic reper­toire, even in the 1920s. Elling­ton had a stronger, loud­er voice than you hear in Peterson’s del­i­cate, con­tem­pla­tive com­po­si­tions. So is there a con­flict? Hard­ly. Play­ing Elling­ton seems to have allowed Peter­son to cut loose. You hear anoth­er Peter­son, sassier than when he played his own stuff. I love this record.

15420. (G. P. Singh) Republics, Kingdoms, Towns and Cities in Ancient India

The above three titles are essen­tial read­ing for any­one inter­ested in the his­tory of democ­racy. When Steve Muhlberg­er and I wrote Democracy’s Place In World His­tory, Majum­dar (writ­ten in 1918) and Altekar (writ­ten in 1949) were impor­tant sources for us. The first book alert­ed us to the sig­nif­i­cance of the ancient Indi­an republics, which had become an unfash­ion­able area of study, and were lit­tle known to his­to­ri­ans out­side India. The sec­ond pro­vided a seri­ous analy­sis of them, and demon­strated con­clu­sively that they had to be tak­en just as seri­ously as the polit­i­cal insti­tu­tions of ancient Athens. Ancient India was home to many hun­dreds of city-states, ter­ri­to­r­ial states, leagues, and con­fed­era­cies, and many of these were demo­c­ra­tic, or pro­to-demo­c­ra­t­ic, in the same sense as the poli­ties of Greece. They involved far greater pop­u­la­tions, were con­tem­po­rary with the Greeks, out­lasted them, and prob­a­bly pre­ceded them. Greek trav­el­ers had no dif­fi­culty see­ing their close resem­blance to their own.

It has been very grat­i­fy­ing to see that our lit­tle essay has con­tributed to a renewed inter­est in this sub­ject. G.P. Singh’s 2003 book is an exam­ple of the renew­al of schol­arly atten­tion. It’s a com­pre­hen­sive sur­vey of the exist­ing doc­u­men­tary evi­dence, with some­thing on every loca­tion that can be con­nected to pro­to-demo­c­ra­t­ic, oligrachic, or con­cil­iar insti­tu­tions. This back­ground knowl­edge is essen­tial if any analy­sis is to take place, and Singh pro­vides up-to-date infor­ma­tion on these sources. It by no means replaces Altekar’s State and Gov­ern­ment in Ancient India, which attempts more analy­sis and inter­pre­ta­tion of the data. Altekar’s analy­sis, in my opin­ion, usu­ally hits the mark. His recon­struc­tion rings true.

Anoth­er book that was an impor­tant source for us was J.P. Sharma’s Republics in Ancient India c. 1500BC-500BC, but I haven’t reread it (I intend to). So if you have any inter­est in the republics of ancient India, start with these four books.

Tagaq: Sinaa

07-10-23 LISTN Tagaq - SinaaTanya Gillis Tagak is a young singer from Ikaluk­tuu­tiak (Cam­bridge Bay), in Nunavut. She learned tra­di­tional Innu­it throat singing at the age of fif­teen, but quick­ly moved to devel­op an “avant-guarde” style of solo throat singing. Com­ments that she is the Björk of the Arc­tic are well deserved. She col­lab­o­rated with Björk on the 2004 album Medúl­la, and toured with her. The duet from that album, “Ances­tors”, appears on Sinaa(2005), her first com­plete stu­dio album. It had a tremen­dous impact in Canada’s abo­rig­i­nal cirl­ces. She has per­formed with the Kro­nos Quar­tet and the eclec­tic Scot­tish band Shooglenifty. Like Björk, Tagaq is relent­lessly exper­i­men­tal. The casu­al lis­tener, how­ever, who hasn’t been raised with Innu­it throat singing may not be able to dis­tin­guish what is tra­di­tional from what is innovation.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007 — Some Thoughts On Burma

Neighbourhood in Yangon, Burma --- Burma (also called Myanmar) is considered one the most economically mismanaged countries on earth.

Neigh­bour­hood in Yan­gon, Bur­ma — Bur­ma (also called Myan­mar) is con­sid­ered one the most eco­nom­i­cal­ly mis­man­aged coun­tries on earth.

The great­est shame and degra­da­tion for human beings is to be ruled by an aris­toc­ra­cy. Whether one is reduced to abject slav­ery, or mere­ly forced to sub­mit to grad­ed snob­beries and unearned priv­i­lege, it all comes down to the same truth. Aris­to­crat­ic gov­ern­ment is a vio­la­tion of fun­da­men­tal moral­i­ty, and an intol­er­a­ble insult to human dig­ni­ty. It fol­lows that the heroes of our species are those who defy, resist, and over­throw aris­toc­ra­cy, and strive for the only moral­ly accept­able arrange­ment of human pol­i­tics: democ­ra­cy. It also fol­lows that those who seek to impose or pre­serve dic­ta­tor­ship over human beings are the pal­pa­ble vil­lains. And as for those who stand by while oth­ers risk their lives for free­dom, encour­age their oppres­sors, and rush to trade and social­ize with the tyrants ― well, no lan­guage is vivid enough to describe their cow­ardice and treachery.

It’s not hard to pin­point who are the cur­rent heroes and vil­lains. Read more »

15370. (Orhan Pamuk) The White Castle

Nobel Prize win­ner Orhan Pamuk is the lead­ing light of mod­ern Turk­ish fic­tion writ­ing. This is one of his ear­ly nov­els. It’s extreme­ly well-craft­ed, and its qual­i­ties come through in what must be a very good trans­la­tion by Vic­to­ria Hol­brook. It’s a short nov­el, deal­ing with a sim­ple theme, with­out the pre­ten­sions and con­vo­lu­tions that are thought oblig­a­tory by cur­rent fash­ion. It’s set in the late 18th Cen­tury, and nar­rated by an Ital­ian who becomes the slave of an Ottoman schol­ar, to whom he bears an uncan­ny phys­i­cal resem­blance. With knowl­edge of each oth­ers’ most inti­mate secrets, they become able to exchange iden­ti­ties. Evliya Chelebi, the great 18th Cen­tury Turk­ish poly­math, makes a cameo appear­ance, and so does a char­ac­ter, unnamed, whom I sus­pect is meant to be Gio­vanni Pao­lo Marana, an Ital­ian author whom I dis­cuss in my Third Med­i­ta­tion On Democ­racy.

Holy Barbarians: Cream

If I were to pick one band to illus­trate the con­vo­luted rock trends of the 1980’s, it would be The Cult. This noto­ri­ously frac­tious, unpre­dictable, and peri­patetic band usu­ally hov­ered some­where in between the Doors and AC/DCin its over­all sound, but ven­tured into all sorts of oth­er moods. Despite their noto­ri­ous inter­nal bick­er­ing and tem­po­rary split-ups, they have man­aged to remain a force in rock for a quar­ter cen­tury. Any­one with a seri­ous rock col­lec­tion is like­ly to own copies of Love (my own favourite) and Son­ic Tem­ple. Their Cana­dian tour last year still pulled in huge crowds, espe­cially here in Toron­to.Dur­ing one of their tem­po­rary split-ups, lead singer Ian Ast­bury start­ed up a garage band called Holy Bar­bar­ians, which record­ed only this one album, in 1999. Creamis a decent album, worth play­ing now and then, but it illus­trates how much The Cult ben­e­fit­ed from the fine gui­tar play­ing of Bil­ly Duffy. With­out him to bal­ance Ast­bury, the singer often comes across too heavy-hand­ed. Some of the songs seem stagy and melo­dra­matic. But “Opi­um” is first rate, and “Broth­er Fights” is quite good, too. If you are a Cult fan, pick up this album, not only for the sake of com­plete­ness, but to show, by con­trast, just how the com­bi­na­tion of Duffy and Ast­bury worked.

(Krishna 1991) Masala; (Mehta 2002) Bollywood / Hollywood

Masala (1991)

Both these films, made eleven years apart, are sur­re­al­is­tic come­dies about Indo-Cana­di­an fam­i­lies in Toron­to. I first saw Masalawith a room­ful of friends, some of South Asian back­ground, some not, but all Cana­di­ans raised in Toron­to. I think we all enjoyed it more for its “Toron­to-ness” than for any­thing as dourly seri­ous as “iden­ti­ty pol­i­tics”. It had the feel of our city, and the same goofi­ness that you would see in Strange Brew. See­ing the ven­er­a­ble Saeed Jaf­frey as the God Krish­na in a Leaf’s goalie uni­form had us rolling on the floor with laugh­ter. And the same actor por­trays the long-suf­fer­ing postal clerk, to whom Lord Krish­na deliv­ers the rarest Cana­di­an stamp, but who is unwill­ing to sell it either to sat­is­fy his wife’s crav­ing for appli­ances, or the gov­ern­men­t’s pres­sure, and is the Cana­di­an Every­man in a nut­shell. Read more »

15347. (Adjutor Rivard) Chez Nous, Our Old Quebec Home [tr. W. H. Blake, ill. A. Y. Jackson]

This was anoth­er delight­ful find in the Good­will book bins. Rivard’s 1914 mem­oir of life in late nine­teenth cen­tury rur­al Que­bec was once well-known, even in Europe. Rivard was admit­ted to l’ Académie françaiseon the strength of it. Yet it was writ­ten in the full-blood­ed, earthy Cana­dian lan­guage, rife with archa­ic Nor­man and Celtic influ­ence (A del­e­ga­tion from the Scot­tish Par­lia­ment, this year, was boulever­séwhen accost­ed by a pla­toon of fran­coph­o­nes from rur­al Que­bec sport­ing kilts, spo­rans and bag­pipes). Rivard was an accom­plished philol­o­gist, and like Mark Twain, a metic­u­lous observ­er of dialect. This Eng­lish trans­la­tion sort of sug­gests it, but it can’t put across the pecu­liar feel­ing of “la bor­dée de ce soir a presque abrié les balis­es”, or “c’est matin pour les lièvres”, any more than a trans­la­tor can ren­der the feel­ing of Huck Finn’s speech­es into Latin. But this trans­la­tor is con­sci­en­tious, and does a pret­ty good job.

Cornelius Krieghoff "Early Canadian Homestead" (1859)

Cor­nelius Krieghoff “Ear­ly Cana­di­an Home­stead” (1859)

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