The Oppenheimer Report 7/27/15

Sometimes, when I’m sitting down to write this week’s report, which I have been doing now for well over 20 years, I look through my files to see what I wrote a year ago at this time. I did so today and was reminded that my dear friend, Frank Riccio passed on just about this time last year. Frank was a gifted artist, as well as a successful illustrator for magazines and children’s books. Though we did not communicate often, we wrote letters to each other, usually once or twice a year, and Frank’s letters to me were always imbued with beautiful pencil sketches and other examples of his exquisite art work. By the way, who writes letters anymore!? One of my prized possessions, along with my flying squirrel pelt-upholstered easy chair (just kidding), is a very limited edition book of Frank’s artwork, along with some very personal copy about the challenges he was facing at the time he published the book. Thinking about that unique and rare book had me wondering about what we leave behind when we die. With Frank, it was the comforting notion that the sum and total of a person’s life, and one’s impact on the world, might be recognized and appreciated for generations to come. Energy can neither be created nor destroyed, and Frank is still here with me.

I am in the middle of reading some of the writings of a man named Moshe Feldenkrais, whose articles discuss at great length the long term harm we do to our bodies because of improper alignment, bad posture, and bad habits, etc. His theories are now more and more accepted by physiotherapists and healers of all sorts, because his ideas and exercises teach us how we can be more mindful of our bodies, how we can unlearn some of our “bad” behaviors, and how we can relieve chronic pain ourselves. My wife, Shauna suffers from severe chronic pain and, only after decades of her suffering have we stumbled upon several hopeful therapies which don’t involve drugs and a laundry list of ineffective specialists. Without going into the mind body duality discussion and the resounding failure of Western medicine to heal the many puzzling autoimmune illnesses that plague our culture, I will say that I have done a lot of reading on the subject, and this guy makes a lot of sense. The reason I mention him is because in his writings, he gently admonishes his students for their ignorance of the men and women who are long gone, and upon whom he based his theories. Sadly, many of the brilliant minds among us are doomed to obscurity after they go. I did not know of Moshe Feldenkrais until a massage therapist Shauna has been seeing recommended we read about his work, and this man is far more worthy of note than guys like Dr. Oz or Dr. Phil.

I do not think I am one of those brilliant minds, but I do think each of us has a calling, some way we can make our mark to improve the world. Maybe my small contribution will be to support musical artists I deem worthy of attention. Maybe I will even write a song that another artist will sing, and perhaps that song will be enjoyable, meaningful, or helpful to others. Music is my therapy and I choose to dream that my love may benefit others. As idealistic and perhaps naïve as this may seem, I really do believe we are here to help one another and that there is some mysterious synchronicity or serendipity to how this happens. I’ve been told that this is the purpose of religion, but I have yet to find any solace in organized religion. Somehow the notion of altruism has become more and more obscured by the cult of personality and by often useless information that is both corrosive and self-perpetuating. If you doubt this, just list the number of stories you’ve heard this week about unsung heroes. Is Kanye West a hero? No, but in the past week I have heard more about that guy than about the firefighters who are battling the western wildfires.

Frank Riccio is one of my heroes. He improved my life and many others with his wonderful art, his gentle kindness, and his friendship. Frank is a reminder of the kind of person I want to be. Not perfect, but honest, and good. That it is about the anniversary of his passing is less meaningful to me than that I am fortunate enough to have him to remember, whenever I need him. Thanks Frank, wherever you are.

-Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2015 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED-

The Oppenheimer Report 7/20/15

The other day, singer songwriter Neil Young created some controversy in the music world by announcing that he was pulling all his music off sources that stream music via the internet. No longer will one be able to download a Neil Young song; you will instead have to purchase a CD or “rip” it from a friend. Young claims that the sound quality is too badly compromised in streamed music (typically MP3 and M4a formats), and he thinks he does a disservice to his fans to charge for his music in such a degraded form. Better, I suppose to deny them access altogether.

 

I really only embraced the Great Satan of streamed music, and specifically ITunes, about ten years ago, when my friend Bob bought me my first IPod. As is the case with most new technology, I am usually about ten or fifteen years behind the rest of the world in embracing these innovations. I very much like my IPod Touch; I quickly transferred a lot of my CDs to my IPod, and I use it constantly. Whereas the sound is somewhat degraded, the convenience of having so much of my music library available at my fingertips makes this IPod a winner for me.

 

The debate continues among audiophiles about whether or not the degradation of sound is too great a price to pay for the convenience, and many people prefer to store and listen to their music in the .WAV file format of compact discs. Certainly the sound quality of those larger .WAV files is noticeably better. Vinyl is making a comeback as well, because many audiophiles prefer the sound of analog tracks and eschew digital technology. I’m not sure where I stand on the digital vs. analog debate. In the past, I had most of my music library on cassette tapes because I did a lot of my listening in the car. Of course, everyone knows that recording music to a cassette tape degrades the sound as well, but again, there was the convenience factor. The truth is, I lost my ability to discriminate between good and bad sound sometime after my concert-filled youth, when I neglected to put cotton in my ears during some of the louder concerts. Once the high end is gone, it doesn’t come back, and my ears are still ringing from a Boston concert I remember attending in the early Eighties. I may not be the best person to ask about sound quality, although I was very concerned about it in my early listening career. For me, the convenience of digital files is still the most important thing. Lately I’ve been getting a bit annoyed with ITunes because there are always memory sucking-software updates and more and more files that cannot be converted from the Apple digital format to MP3. As well, there are privacy concerns and sometimes I feel ITunes is taking over my computer. Someday soon, I might choose another streaming source. Still, it is hard to compete with the convenience of shopping for music online. OK, I admit it, I’m lazy.  

 

I understand Neil Young’s point about sound quality, although, as my wife Shauna points out, it’s not as if this is the London Symphony Orchestra complaining. This is “Nasal” Neil Young, and his music is, well, not all that complicated. Most of the time, when I listen to music now, it is either in my car or through some compact wireless speaker, and not on the sophisticated audiophile quality stereo system I used to own. Once again, the convenience of having so many songs at my fingertips, and also being able to take a compact digital player along with a wireless speaker with me almost anywhere I travel, makes this technology appealing to me. A year or so ago, I read Neil’s most recent book Waging a Heavy Peace, and in it he discusses at great length his efforts to develop better digital files to more truly replicate the original recordings. I don’t know whether or not he has been successful in this venture, but the timing of his latest announcement has me wondering. Does Neil have a better mouse trap? Bring it on rock star, I’m all ears. I’m not worried about his absence from the internet. I have the albums I like in vinyl or CD, and they are already converted on my IPod. As well, I am learning about a lot of other good songwriters, specifically because their music is available online. Maybe the sound could be better, but for this aging music lover, it's OK.

 

-Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2015 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED-

The Oppenheimer Report 7/13/15

From the D. Jordan Taylor Collection
 

In keeping with my quest to become a better songwriter, I am reading a book right now by Bill Flanagan entitled Written in My Soul. The former editor of Musician Magazine interviewed 27 Rock and Blues musicians and discussed with them their songs and their song writing technique. The book is a little dated, as it was written almost thirty years ago, but I’m finding the interviews edifying. To me, it is very interesting to hear how other songwriters approach the art. So far, I have read interviews with Carl Perkins, Willie Dixon, Chuck Berry, Bob Dylan, Pete Townsend, Bruce Springsteen, Tom Petty, Elvis Costello, Mick Jagger, and several others. As a practicing songwriter myself, I am looking for any common experiences I share with these famous writers.

There seem to be two camps among these many songwriters interviewed: those who feel that song writing is influenced by some inexplicable muse, and those who insist that song writing is nothing more than a craft that one perfects; it’s a job. Chuck Berry, widely considered to be one of the seminal influences on modern Rock ‘n' Roll, has a very business-like approach to his art. Give the people what they want, write for the white listeners so as to reach a bigger market; write songs that will draw big audiences, and make a lot of money. When he originally wrote "Johnny B. Goode", Johnny the “country boy” was a “colored boy”, and his producer told him the song would be a hit if he changed “colored” to “country”. In the other camp is Keith Richards of The Rolling Stones, who believes that songs come to him already written, and all he does is act as the middle man. Often, I don’t always know where from my songs come. Some of them seem to write themselves, and I do feel sometimes as if my songs are being influenced by some third party. Other artists say the same thing. I can’t sit down at a desk and decide to write a song. Either that song is there or it isn’t. No amount of coaxing or unblocking will bring it to the surface. The trick is to get the idea down before it disappears. If I had a nickel for every hook or phrase that I did not get down on tape or paper, I’d be a wealthy man. Elvis Costello said that he might have bits and pieces of songs running around in his head, and stored for long periods of time. Sometimes, he’d piece together lyrics from different songs, long after he’d come up with the ideas to produce something acceptable. I try to have a voice recorder handy wherever I go, and I am always listening for a clever line.

The most important thing that I am gleaning from this book of interviews is that there is nothing new under the sun. Almost all of the artists interviewed admit that they have borrowed licks and styles from other artists. Costello would go so far as to say he would set about to imitate another band’s style in some of his songs. I’m always amused when some high-minded critic shoots down a song or an artist by saying that he or she is derivative. Carl Perkins’ rockabilly style drew off the Blues and sped it up, Rock came out of the music of the Deep South, and much of today’s Soul pays homage to the Gospel music from the Deep South. There is a big difference between deriving music from some influential form, and copying it. The best artists add their unique mark to the songs they write. Jimi Hendrix admitted to being influenced by the Chicago Blues style of Buddy Guy, and Buddy Guy grew up listening to the old traditional Blues artists he heard down in his home state of Louisiana. One of the things I try to demonstrate on my radio show is that there is room for everyone’s interpretation, as long as it is fresh and interesting. Many times a songwriter like John Prine writes a great tune (Angel from Montgomery is my favorite), but it is another artist whose arrangement makes the song shine.

As destructive wildfires sweeping through Saskatchewan and points west dominate the headlines, we are finally getting some decent weather here in Ontario, after a very slow start. I might even get some tomatoes to grow this year.

 

“SHAVED ON THE SIDES WITH MOP TOP HEADS

FASHION FROM THE 80'S OR FROM DICKENS INSTEAD

POP ART PUNK ROCK IT'S ALL BEEN SAID

IF SOMEONE SAYS IT DIFFERENTLY THEN WE'RE ALL IMPRESSED

 

WE'RE STUMBLING AROUND IN THE CIRCLE OF LIFE

WE TURN TO THE LEFT UNTIL WE COME TO THE RIGHT

JUST STUMBLING AROUND IN THE CIRCLE OF LIFE

THE PAST IS THE FUTURE WITH A LITTLE MORE LIGHT” 
- excerpt from Circle of Life c1991

 

 

I hope you are all enjoying your summer.

 

-Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2015 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED-

The Oppenheimer Report 7/6/15

My '57 Chris Craft Sea Skiff :  "Ahoy Vey"

A belated Happy Canada Day to all my Canadian friends and a Happy Fourth of July to all my friends stateside. As an ex-patriot, I actually forgot that Saturday was the Fourth of July, until I caught part of the Macy’s Fourth of July Special in NYC on television Saturday night. There was a spectacular fireworks display, shot off four or five barges in the Hudson River, accompanied by the NY Philharmonic Orchestra, playing patriotic American favorites. I love fireworks displays and I am fortunate that I was able to see such a well-choreographed show. Once, while Shauna and I were attending the Canada Day fireworks celebration in the Town of Banff, the guy in charge of lighting off the fireworks inadvertently fired off the grand finale first, thereby rendering the rest of the show somewhat anti-climactic. Done correctly, fireworks displays are truly an art form.
 

When I was younger, the Fourth of July was a big deal for me. All up and down the North Shore of Lake Erie, near our summer cottage, one could see the fireworks displays and bonfires. Back in the wild west days of my youth, someone in my band of delinquents would inevitably get a hold of some serious construction grade explosives, and we would have fun waking up the neighbors. Alcohol was very likely involved; it’s a wonder we are all still alive and relatively intact. When I think about my ill-spent youth, this applies to a lot of different scenarios wherein danger was a key component. These days, the most dangerous thing I do is to occasionally drive the moose-lined highways of Northern, Ontario at night. In my early years, we used to watch the big fireworks display at nearby Crystal Beach Amusement Park and sometimes, we’d take a boat or car into Buffalo to watch the shows there. One year was particularly memorable and it involved a fireworks presentation in the Buffalo harbor, hosted by the makers of Whisk laundry detergent. I and some of my friends piled into my 1957 Chris Craft Sea Skiff utility and motored into Buffalo to catch the much-touted fireworks show. It was a dark, choppy ride in from the Canadian shore and when we arrived in Buffalo, we dropped anchor near a break wall, careful not to moor within the channel of the Buffalo ship canal. As show time approached – I believe there was music on shore as well – more and more scofflaw boaters began to moor within the channel (clearly marked with lighted buoys), and obviously some of them were imbibing heavily. There was a lot of hooting and drunken laughter and some of the drunken attendees were firing off hand-held Roman Candles, aiming them at other boaters. Gasoline and fire; brilliant. At one point, one of those bozos inadvertently took aim at the police boat, which was fighting a losing battle to keep the channel clear for its intended purpose. Two notable things happened that night. First, a large sailboat under power rammed into one of the stern corners of my boat. As soon as it hit us, they turned off their running lights, as if that was somehow going to make them invisible. I could hear a kid onboard saying “I told you not to let Mommy drive!” Fiberglass is no match for Philippine mahogany, and the sailboat lost that fight. Not so much as a scratch on my boat; big hole in the bow of the sailboat. The next boating disaster involved the afore-mentioned scofflaws, many who were giving the outgunned police boat fits. All at once, the mighty Miss Buffalo came motoring through the canal, on a collision course with all the fools who had moored improperly in her path. She rammed a few as they scrambled unsuccessfully to get out of the way, and she picked up the mooring lines of many more who were not able to pull up and move away in time. Picture this 150’+  craft barreling through at 5-10 knots, dragging behind it five or ten small craft frantically trying to cut their mooring lines, as they banged and smashed into each other in the churning wake. All the responsible, sober boaters gave out a collective cheer and applauded. Karma is a bitch. Things have tightened up a bit since the 80’s, but back then, there were a lot amateurs out on the high seas.
    

On my show last Thursday night ,I made note of a documentary we watched on CNN entitled I’ll Be Me which covered singer/song writer Glen Campbell’s recent and final concert tour. Campbell, who was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease a while back, had made the brave decision, along with his wife and kids, to shine a bright light on his decline, and I thought the documentary was remarkably good. Never before a huge fan of Campbell’s music, I did respect his ability to write hit songs, and I am a much bigger fan of his music having seen this documentary. Some might say this was an inappropriate and unseemly airing of a person’s private struggle, but as a family member who has first-hand experienced the remarkable challenges dementia throws at all the family members, I applaud the Campbells for playing out their experience in the public eye. As is the case with so many other kinds of mental illness, silence is our worst enemy. This documentary humanized the struggles of this very public celebrity, and I am sure it did a great service to all the people who are trying deal with this disease personally, not to mention all the researchers who are laboring to find a treatment or a cure.

Again, I hope you all had a wonderful Canada Day and/or Fourth of July, and that you all still have your fingers and toes intact.

 

-Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2015 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED-