iJamming.net

Sifting through a box of soundtrack CDs looking for some specific hits of the 50s, I came across the movie recording of Jesus Christ Superstar this past weekend and decided to take it for a spin. Turns out I remembered most songs by melody, a surprising number by their lyrics and followed the storyline far more easily after a 20-30 year absence than I ever did at the time. Yes, I know Jesus Christ Superstar was composed by Andrew Lloyd Webber (albeit with lyrics by Tim Rice) and is therefore meant to be uncool, but truth is, it’s a mighty fine piece of work – and, it struck me over the weekend, remarkably similar to the rock opera that started them all: Tommy.

The 1974 soundtrack album I listened to over the weekend

A little Monday night research confirmed that there was a lot more to this supposition than I’d initially hazarded to guess. Like Tommy, which it followed by barely a year, Jesus Christ Superstar was introduced not in the theater but on album, and with Ian Gillan of Deep Purple playing the very Roger Daltrey-esque role of a young man whose rapid rise to prophet status results in his crucifixion, it’s hard not to see The Who’s influence. Though JSC employed several different singers (including Murray Head, Yvonne Elliman and, for one line, Gary Glitter), whereas the original Tommy was restricted to the four members of the Who, the musical themes are quite similar. Both incorporate humorous elements, they each have semi-sung/half-spoke interludes, and otherwise they appear to meet in the middle. On Tommy, Pete Townshend leaned towards the musicals and operettas of old, though he kept them framed within something of a rock format; Lloyd Webber approached JCS from the tradition of the stage format, but thoroughly embraced, and dare I say it with real success, the rock idiom.

The original Tommy, 1969.

Tommy was the forerunner, the great leap forward for rock music at the end of the 1960s, and you could safely accuse JCS of jumping on its bandwagon, but it’s hardly short of its own memorable songs: try ‘Hosanna,’ ‘I Don’T Know How To Love Him,’ ‘Everything’s Alright,’ ‘King Herod’s Song,’ ‘What’s The Buzz ‘and ‘Heaven On Their Minds’ for starters. And that’s not counting the eponymous theme song I probably first heard in the playground, with their lyrics surely adjusted for reference to Georgie Best.

The original Jesus Christ Superstar, 1970 – surely influenced by Tommy.

Yet what really sets JCS apart is its lyrics. I had always assumed it to be a faithful telling of Jesus’ crucifixion – perhaps a more adult Bible class than Lloyd Webber-Rice’s subsequent Joseph and his Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, but a Bible class all the same. Listening over the weekend – probably for the first time in 25-30 years – I realized that this was never so. Tim Rice bravely retells the tale of Christ’s last weeks largely from Judas’ point of view, and sympathetically so: Jesus is portrayed as a radical social-political leader in a time of great turmoil whose charismatic powers were undone by his Messiah complex, for which he was ultimately betrayed by a disenchanted former acolyte who himself had not thought through his actions. Jesus pays the ultimate price for his radical leadership as so many revolutionaries – pacifist, violent or otherwise – have done over the history of mankind: he is executed. End of story. The virgin birth, the various miracles, and the supposed Resurrection are all left untouched, which makes this a Christian story you can enjoy even if you’re not a Christian – removing the inherent contradictions many of us atheists experience, for example, when listening to great gospel music.

The Tommy movie soundtrack, 1975 – for which Ken Russell was probably influenced by the Jesus Christ Superstar movie and soundtrack, bringing it all full circle.

We were blessed beautiful weather for this first weekend of summer, which enabled us to make it to lake beaches and two outdoor parties. Even got my some swimming in: the water is never usually warm enough this early in the year. More words later in the week: snapshots for now…

Two boys fishing.

One boy smiling.

Nine guys and dolls wailing (including one elementary school music teacher on sax!)

Home fire burning.

When it comes to beer, I’m not quite like those friends who look on wine as either red or white, good or bad, cheap or expensive, but I’m certainly not as obsessed with hops and barley as I am with grapes. I generally drink from a small brewery if that’s an option, and from light to dark according to mood. And that’s about it.

But occasionally, someone pours a beer that’s as worthy of further discussion as a great glass of wine. And such was the case with the pair of wine-bottle size Duvels that came my way on my birthday. You probably know of Duvel. It hails from Belgium, that little country “the size of Maryland” that is considered to artisan beer as France is to wine – except that I sometimes think people take their Belgian wine too seriously, and pay too much for what is, after all, just an alcoholic beverage. (And that, exactly is what some people think about us wine anoraks.)

According to the Duvel web site (a fine example of how to marry history, humor, copious information and cheap merchandise all in one), the idea for the beer was born in World War I, when the British brought their own English ales with them to the battlefields (and still won the war!), and Belgian brewery owner Albert Mortgat decided to fashion a British-style Victory Ale in the honor of these, and American, troops. His quest took him beyond England, to Scotland where, after much haggling, McEwan’s eventually allowed him and his “brewing scientist” Jean de Clerck to take home some yeast. The pair then acquired hops from Czechoslovakia, barley from France and mixed it with local Flemish water, meaning that the resulting beer was not, of course, an English style ale at all, but something truly European. (Albeit decidedly non-German.) When finally served up in 1923, one of the brewery workers remarked that it was a Devil (“duvel”) of a beer, and the Victory Ale had itself a new name – no bad thing given that it was now five years since the War had been won, and the Germans were already gearing up for another one.

A devil of a beauty in a wine bottle size container.

The ‘devil’ name suggests something overpowering, but while Duvel is 8.5% ABV, like all finely made alcohol it carries its weight with grace. Pouring it is a bitch; even with something approaching the correct tulip-shaped glass, and following the instruction to “pour unhurriedly,” it’s easy to end up with a heavy head of froth. Once that settles, though, the aromas of the thrice-fermented, bottle-conditioned ale waft upwards, and they’re decidedly alluring. According to the home-brewing friend who gifted me the Duvel, those aromas are “bubblegum” and “banana” which, by a very odd coincidence, only show up as descriptives in one wine grape, Gamay, where they do so together. (Perhaps bubblegum and banana offer similar aromas?) Gamay, the grape of Beaujolais, produces simple wine, however, whereas Duvel is an especially complex beer, every sip demanding to be taken slowly, even – especially – when you have a 750 ml bottle’s worth of it in front of you. Simultaneously mellow yet massive, full-bodied yet smooth-flavored it is, like a fine wine, not something you’d opt for every night (sometimes we just want to drink!), but equally, not something you quickly forget. And like a fine wine, it doesn’t go off overnight, so you don’t have to rush to drink it; my bottles were stamped ‘Best before 09/09.’ One of these days I’ll put one down in the wine cellar and see what happens to it over a couple of years’ further maturation.

The Duvel sold in America is still that brewed in Belgium (with its Scottish-Czech-Flemish-French ingredients). The brewery that imports it, Brewery Ommegang, excels in Belgian-style ales and is, I have noted once or twice before, based in Cooperstown, New York, barely 100 miles north of us. The weekend of July 21, it’s hosting a massive Belgium comes to Cooperstown festival, with onsite camping available to offset the problem of drunken driving. I have a tent. Who wants to share it? (NB: this invite applies to proven friends only!)

George W. Bush is not the only President to fire those who don’t rubber-stamp his policies. Brooklyn Borough President Marty Markowitz – who calls himself a Democrat – is cut from the same cloth. This week it was revealed that an unusually high number of Community Board members – the hard-working volunteer citizens who, as we learned from a decade living in Brooklyn, are a resident’s main point of contact in dealing with Borough bureaucracy – would not be reappointed to their posts. To quote from Wednesday’s New York Times,

Though community board members’ terms are usually renewed routinely, Mr. Markowitz on Monday replaced at least five longtime members who had sought reappointment to Community Board 6, which covers the brownstone neighborhoods of Boerum Hill, Park Slope and Carroll Gardens.

The five members had one thing in common: they voted yes last year on a resolution denouncing Atlantic Yards, the $4 billion development project that Mr. Markowitz has spent three years and much of his political capital extolling.

The sad thing is, this comes as no surprise to anyone who has followed the story these last three years. The Atlantic Yards development has been forced on Brooklynites using exactly the same tactics as the Bush Administration used to justify the invasion of Iraq. You start off by telling the people what they want to hear, and if they raise questions or objections or, God forbid, use either the First Amendment or their right to legal recourse, then you either lie to them (in Atlantic Yards’ case, with false promises of jobs and open space, and complete denial of environmental and community damage), patronize them (”We know better than you”), threaten them (with Eniment Domain), buy their support (hello Build), publish your own propaganda (hello the Brooklyn Standard), rush the process through anyway (Forest City Ratner started knocking down buildings before receiving proper clearance), and just generally railroad them into submission (all the above and more). And if that still doesn’t shut them up, then given the opportunity, you fire them.

Celia Cacace, who has been on the board since the early 1980s — long before Mr. Markowitz was elected — said that he took her aside at a community event a few months ago to criticize her and her colleagues.

“He said, ‘I’m going to get rid of everybody on the board that voted for this,’ [the resolution denouncing Atlantic Yards]” according to Ms. Cacace, 71, whose term expires next year. “He says, ‘Remember, you are my appointee.’ Every time I tried to say something he totally lambasted me.”

The view of the future Atlantic Yards from Carlton Avenue and Bergen Street. Photographs by Eric McNatt; Illustration by Jason Lee. Photo and Caption from The Battle for The Soul of Brooklyn, NY magazine, Aug 14

Mr.Markowitz’ biography at the Brooklyn Borough President’s web site, declares that,

His goal is to ensure that all Brooklynites have the opportunity to share in the historic renaissance sweeping across the borough — and if he puts a smile on your face while he’s at it, even better!

Mr Markowitz, go jump in the Gowanus Canal. That will put a smile on everyone’s face, I assure you.

—————-
Previously at iJamming!
Brooklyn Beats: A Media Narrative on Gentrification, Growth, Class, Race, Whole Foods and Kiddy Punk
Miss Brooklyn
A Brooklyn Bridge Too Far?

In winter, they’re at school early enough to watch the sun rise over the rugby posts.

We had a preparatory meeting for Campbell’s middle school on Tuesday night. I’d spout the usual parental bull about hard it is to believe our little baby boy is ‘graduating’ elementary school already except that, having seen him almost every day for 11 and a half years, it’s not hard to believe at all. Kids grow up, parents grow old, we all die.

What I do find hard to believe is that, in our school district, both the middle and high school start their day at 7:40am. Quite what this is meant to achieve seems to be beyond parents, teachers and officials alike. It would make at least some sense if the elementary school started that early – little kids tend to bounce out of bed at dawn. (But Campbell’s current school starts at what I find to be a more hospitable 9am.) It would make some sense also if the school day was that much longer in middle and high school. (But no, they finish the school day at 2:30pm.) So quite how they think they’re helping our 12-18 year olds kids by challenging their natural sleep habits and having them on school buses as early as 7am (at which time, in winter, believe me, it’s dark dark DARK), is quite mystifying. I like our school district, it’s got a lot of good things going for it. It also happens to be the second-largest (geographical) school district in the whole of New York State, which means that some kids spend up to an hour on that school bus. Fortunately, our new house is near enough to the middle and high school that Campbell won’t be one of them, but still. Looks like we have some issues cut out for us in the years ahead.

Presumably this is not the spot at which you’re meant to break your legs.

One thing none of us should complain about is the school’s location, with a gorgeous, 360-degree view of the Catskill mountains. It also has some excellent outdoor sports facilities, including a state-of-the-art running track. (Is it any coincidence that it also has a highly successful track team?) I was just out there this (Wednesday) evening, using the soft cushion of the track to rehabilitate my leg, and I’ve got to say, there aren’t many more lovely places I can think of to run, assuming you want to stay on the (softly) beaten path. Here’s our hoping our older son will discover his running legs and make the most of it. And here’s hoping too, that he learns to cope with those 6am morning alarm calls. Because I know I won’t!