The Oppenheimer Report 11/28/16

I recently found myself craving some retro TV, and I PVR’d (I’ve created a new verb) an old show I remember from my early youth: The Rifleman, starring Chuck Connors. Some of you are old enough to remember him playing the tough-but-fair-single-father and vigilante, Lucas McCain, whose wife probably died in a gun-related accident, and whose family later went on to found a French fried potato empire in Canada. My friends and I used to call him “Mucous” McCain, and my favorite part of the show was, hands down, the opening credits. You knew right away that Mucous was one “bad ass mo-fo” because he glared at the camera while he indiscriminately fired off his rifle walking down the main street of town. The townsfolk in Mucous’s town must have run for cover whenever he was around, because he seemed a little reckless with that rifle. I can sum up the plot of every episode of The Rifleman as follows: the bad guys rode into town, Lucas wrestled with his inner demons and the seemingly irreconcilable conflict of his gunslinger and law-abiding personalities. Inevitably, he ended up vastly outnumbered in a gunfight, slaughtering all the villains with his Wild West version of an AK47. The whole show was a send up to Mucous pureeing a bunch of bad guys with his lightning fast, repeat action Winchester. The filler in the middle was absolutely ludicrous. I began to think about some of the other TV shows I watched when I was younger. Actress Florence Henderson just passed away last week, and she played the mom in the hit sitcom The Brady Bunch. I remember how clean cut everyone was in that show. It seemed as if TV reality was more overtly manipulated back in the 60s and 70s. I found it somewhat ironic that actress Maureen McCormick, who played eldest daughter Marcia on the show, wrestled with substance abuse through much of her adult life. Another show which highlighted the difference between television and reality was Dragnet. I liked Dragnet then and I LOVE it now. The monotone dialogue and the deadpan acting is hilarious, and I can’t help thinking the producers knew the show was silly. There was one episode in particular that stands out in my memory. I think it was called “Blueboy” and it dealt with young people using LSD. Of course the young man who took LSD suffered some tragic end. You could argue that these shows were unrealistic depictions of life at the time, but I wonder what they tell us about the era in which they were produced. Why deify vigilantism? Why was divorce sanitized?

These days, nothing is as clear. Yes, there are wholesome sitcoms, but I’m also noticing a lot more fantasy and superheroes. And then there is the explosion of reality television. Reality television is a game changer; it is the car wreck from which I cannot turn away. Reality television is anything but, and the irony is glaring. Not too long ago, I watched part of a show about the struggles of some guy in a remote Arctic location. Here’s a guy in the middle of nowhere, and you know there’s a camera crew following him around. At some point in the show, the guy’s snowmobile breaks down many miles from his dwelling, and he has to walk home. Did the camera crew follow him home in a heated snow cat, or did they just go for hot cocoa? A lot of this reality crap focuses on the lowest common denominator of human behavior. We viewers love the villains, and the more atrocious the behavior the better. Fifteen years ago, I shrugged it off as an amusing dip in the quality of television entertainment, but now that it has woven itself into the fabric of our culture, it has I think become a troubling portent for the future.

If you doubt this, look at who just became President of the United States. Last weekend, Saturday Night Live was a repeat, and the original air date was shortly before the recent presidential election. Clearly no one on the SNL writing staff thought Trump had a cold chance in hell of winning the election, because the story about Trump’s misogynist rant with Access Hollywood host Billy Bush had just broken. To make the show even weirder, the guest host was Lin-Manuel Miranda, creator of the hit musical Hamilton. Most recently he is newsworthy for having admonished Vice President-elect Mike Pence, who had been in the Hamilton audience for one of the sold out shows, shortly after the election. In a world where social media and cell phones are the primary means of communication, a buffoon like Trump can prevail over an entire political and media empire. Makes you think, doesn’t it? OK, back to fantasy. Time to watch Andy Of Mayberry. That Barney cracks me up.    - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2016 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 11/21/16

What a difference a week makes! Last week, I took one last putt around the lake in the Porta-Bote, before putting the little outboard away for the season. As I drifted on the far end of the mirror-calm lake, the sun in the latter half of its day, I had a moment of sublime peace. That peace is ever elusive these days, and while we live in paradise, and my life is in most ways charmed, there is a lot of noise in my head right now. An omnipresent sadness and dread lurk just below the surface of every human encounter I’ve made this past week, and it just seems as if a lot of people have resigned themselves to the notion that “evil” has triumphed. Trump is President, Russia and the Syrian Government are bombing the life out of Aleppo, the Kardashians are still bafflingly newsworthy. As if all the troubles around the world are not enough, an unusual number of my musical heroes have checked out of the Shit Storm Hotel in 2016. Leonard Cohen in particular, the poet-songwriter and ambassador of love, who so eloquently taught us the complicated lessons of love, has betrayed us by proving to be mortal. Maybe it’s the Chicken Little press, or the preponderance of “how-can-you-not-see-this-is-the-end-of-the-world?!” conversations floating around, or the indignation of so many, I don’t know. It just seems to me as if it is up to us “the people” to extricate ourselves from this doom and gloom. If righteous indignation was a currency, North America would have an embarrassment of riches. Sure I’m worried, but here is my deeply meaningful, self-righteous, rationalization of the week.

“We have met the enemy and he is us!” How many times have I repeated this quote from the famous cartoon possum Pogo? For the almost twenty-five years since I began writing this report, I have, sometimes sarcastically, vented my righteous indignation about politicians, hate groups, spoiled celebrities, biased media, etc. etc. Still, what have I done to make the human condition better? Bupkiss. I’m part of the problem because, just like the whining masses in the streets bitching about Trump, I am indignant but ineffective. The real heroes of our society are invisible. Who cares about my friend Michelle, who works for Community Living and daily assists, respects, cares about her mentally challenged clients? Who notices the inspirational music teacher who mentored a dozen famous singers, or the fireman who contracted cancer when he dug through the ruins of 9-11 looking for survivors, or the policeman who was killed protecting an ungrateful community, or the volunteer who selflessly delivers meals to the homebound elderly, or ten million other good people? We live in a world full of unspeakable atrocities, and now that the information is more accessible than it ever used to be, indifference becomes our self-defense. We demand ever more sensational catastrophes of the human condition and, like we watch reality television, we stare numbed at the bad news like deer in the headlights. Is it really such a surprise that a “populist” like Donald Trump was elected? He had the ratings. We the people have met the enemy … and he is us (not them).

My songwriter friend Doug McLean posted a quote the other day that drives the point home. It had to do with the Holocaust, and how that atrocity was allowed to occur. Essentially, the message was that, in the environment of divisiveness, ignorance, indifference, complacency, and cowardice, horrible things like genocide can happen. I know a lot of people are fearful that history is again repeating itself; I’m afraid of this as well, but I haven’t given up on humanity. What I aspire to do is my part, in my community. This Thursday marks the American Thanksgiving, hands down my favorite holiday of the year. I miss my mom and dad a lot, and I miss the beautiful family gatherings they hosted every year. They were the glue that bound our family together, along with at least a few strays, and no matter how dysfunctional it is, there is no better microcosm for humanity than our immediate family. Turn the other cheek. Maybe I didn’t adore Uncle Fred, and his seemingly ignorant, backward comments, but I learned to accept him. I am thankful for my good fortune, and most of all for the wonderful people whom I have been fortunate enough to know and love. All I can do is pay it forward, and hope that love triumphs over hate. Of late, I have begun to view the friends in my community as my family. Don’t leave it for someone else to fix this. Tolerate, listen, heal, understand; love. You can’t fix everything, but you can help. To all my American family and friends, Happy Thanksgiving!!         

                                             - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2016 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 11/14/16

Over the past 25 years since I began writing this weekly report, I have had more than one cynical, opinionated, off-color thing to say about politicians. It would be easy to spew today, less than a week after the election that surprised so many. Goodness knows, I’ve read and heard plenty of spewing about Donald Trump over the past weeks, but I have nothing to say that I have not already said about the man. Over the past few months, I’ve been offering my unsolicited opinion about the Trump phenomenon, just as the rest of you have. After he ran away with the Republican primaries, I was deeply concerned that his unlikely ascendance to the highest office in the country was becoming more and more likely. To me, that spoke to the nation’s largely unrecognized discontent. Now, as the world lets out a collective gasp of fear and indignation, I reprise a letter I wrote to an old friend, who expressed her despondency the day after last Tuesday’s election results…

11/9/16 Dear C,  I am a diehard Republican, but I crossed party lines to vote for Hillary this time. While I am terribly worried about what a Trump presidency may foretell, I am somewhat philosophical at this point.

We all know Washington is broken. The Wall Street debacle in 2008 was an outrageous abomination, as was the Savings and Loans scandal in the 1980s. Buy now, pay later. Business as usual led us to a $30 Trillion deficit and there is no indication that a Clinton presidency was going to do anything but exacerbate that problem. The stock market was supposed to tank today, and it did not. Today, black is white, and white is black. I do not know what the future will be, but I’m not jumping ship yet. I am still an American citizen and I still love my country, in its entirety.

This election was a shot across the bow of democracy; Americans have been living in a house of cards for decades, and sooner or later the shit was going to hit the fan. I have despised Trump for 40 years, since my days at Saperston Real Estate. His arrogance and lack of class or grace goes against everything I believe in. But he is a shrewd business man and hopefully he knows how to put a team together. My slim hope is that he will achieve what no other leader has recently done: put the country back on track. Hatred and bigotry are alive and well in America – Trump did not invent them - he simply used them to get where he needed to be. The man is a shameless opportunist, and always has been. He effectively tapped into the lowest common denominator of human behavior to get where he needed to go, and I do not believe the entire block of the electorate that voted him in is stupid or hateful. You may find that, for all his toxic rhetoric, the growing constituency of disgruntled Americans who feel betrayed by their government will come together, and all this nonsense about walls and Islamophobia will simply evaporate. That is my hope anyway. He will have to dial his crap back now if he wants to achieve anything in Washington, and perhaps he will do some of the constructive things he claims he will – untangle the tax code, disassemble the deplorable campaign financing system, re-negotiate our trade deals and bring jobs back to America. Regardless of what his perceived “beliefs” are – and we don’t really know -  if he restores ANY prosperity to this foundering country, the results will be good. If he doesn’t make good, is he any different from the career politicians? 

This seemingly horrible development may in fact be exactly what democracy is. You can argue about the unfairness of the electoral college or that only the haters were heard, but he won, fair and square, and against all odds. If I can forget the asshole Trump is and look at what happened, democracy worked. He didn’t buy the vote; look at the machine against which he prevailed. It’s nothing short of remarkable. Bernie couldn’t fight Hillary’s machine, even though we all know he was the people’s choice. The DNC was not going to let a socialist run against the elephants (and presumably lose). Trump is not beholding to PACS and he is as much a threat to the Republicans as he is to the Democrats. He shrewdly tapped into the disgust over the status quo, and found his majority. Americans decisively voted for change, and whether or not it was the right decision, it may mean there is hope. His success or failure as a president is a question for the history books. My hope, however tenuous, is that this lightening rod for controversy will now settle down and Trump the blowhard will turn into a conduit for much-needed reform. Maybe, just maybe, he can put together a plan to unify this completely divided nation. I see the same hatred you see – but you might be surprised to hear some of the things JFK said and did, and he was much loved during his presidency. Sadly, hypocrisy is an almost constant by-product of the political system.

Pollster, predictors, media, politicos, spin doctors … America rejected all of them, and all the money on both sides could not bring this guy down. To me, that is hopeful. Trump is not a puppet of the Koch brothers. Maybe, if he can accomplish this unimaginable feat, he can make the positive changes that will help right the ship of state. In fact he is no worse than the partisan bastards that make up our Congress right now. The team he picks will be telling. That is my concern right now. Despise the man, by all means, but focus on the possible good that can come from all this. I’m as lost and fearful as the rest of the world, but Donald Trump did not create the mess we’re in. We, our complacency, and the officials we elected did. Imagine what would happen if half the money we lost on campaign financing and un-collected taxes was diverted to low income housing or to feeding the poor. When America is most down and out, that is when she shines. This may be the wake-up call that brings the pendulum back to center. I do not think this is the end of the world, only time will tell. One thing is for sure: we Americans need to wake up and see our part in the big picture. Sometimes democracy is not pretty.

Be well my friends!  Jamie

RIP  singer/songwriters  Leonard Cohen (82) and Leon Russel (76).

   - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2016 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 11/7/16

As Remembrance Day approaches this Friday, I have probably purchased three or four poppies in the past week. I have yet to properly fasten one of those things to any garment I own, and usually manage to skewer myself at least once or twice. Perhaps a little prick of pain is a fitting way to remember the men and women who have sacrificed so much for our collective freedom. While I worry about the state of the world today, and am as disheartened as the next American about the up and coming Presidential election tomorrow, I am still hopeful and comforted by the (possibly deluded) notion that we North Americans enjoy freedoms that most of the rest of the world cannot imagine. I am thankful to every generation of veterans for their service, and I express my gratitude locally by making several donations to the local Burk’s Falls Legion over the year.

When I was a sullen teen, my parents employed a cleaning lady named Mel, and her son Richard used to pick her up after work. Richard was a Viet Nam vet, and though he was a little shy, we developed an odd friendship which originated around cars. Richard owned a “sleeper”, which in drag racing circles means a car which does not look as fast as it is. Richard’s car was a hopped up Cougar XR7 with a supercharged V8. That motor developed well over 500 HP and was geared for drag racing. The car was intentionally painted to look as if it was done by a child - orange with black leopard spots - and it definitely did not look like something that would hit 0-60 in under 4 seconds. I took several rides in this thing and it was probably the fastest car I’ve ever been in. The acceleration off the line could snap your neck. He used to take it down to Fuhrman Blvd. and race other hot rodders for pink slips. Fuhrmann Boulevard was at the time Buffalo’s unofficial drag strip, because it featured numerous exits for escaping the cops. Richard told me that he and “The Leopard” had won a few cars down there. We had an unusual relationship, not just because I was a spoiled young teenager, and his family was several rungs below mine on the social ladder, but also because I was a naïve kid, and he was a war vet. I met a few of Richard’s friends, many of them also veterans, and they looked as if they'd been through a war. While Richard and I never talked much about his experiences in Viet Nam, I know he’d seen combat, and that he was affected psychologically by what he’d done and seen. It was obvious. The Viet Nam War was troublesome on so many levels, because the mission was ambiguous and it came to represent one of the worst and most devastating failures of U.S foreign policy. As happened to so many vets from every generation of war, many of the Viet Nam vets came home with PTS, and to a population that did not understand or appreciate their sacrifice. I don’t know what happened to Richard, or if he is still on this earth, but he was my personal reminder of the ravages of war. I have never been a history buff, but I do know that war is hell. I try never to forget this or to take my freedom for granted.  Not every vet was a decorated hero, not all of them sacrificed their lives, but in my opinion, they are all worthy of my respect.

I feel the same about Remembrance Day as I do about Thanksgiving or Christmas: it shouldn't just be  for one day that we honor our vets, any more than it should be for only one day that we are thankful or charitable or kind. Maybe it’s because we have so much more “information” than we used to, but it seems to me as if the world is becoming an ever more dangerous place than it used to be. I’m not as worried about some fringe group of religious extremists in the Middle East as I am of the misdirection of a super power. We should never forget the lessons of the past, and we should never forget the sacrifices we depend upon from our soldiers, both at home and abroad. I’ll try to remember them the next time my internet service is slow, or the chainsaw won’t start, or someone cuts me off on the highway. Little problems. I think the best way can honor our veterans is to do a better job of appreciating and respecting the freedoms for which they fought.    

   - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2016 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The OppenheimerReport 10/31/16

Halloween used to be a big deal for me. When I was in college, not “in university” as the Canadians say, we used Halloween as an excuse to recruit new members to my fraternity. Actually, it was really a “fratsority” as we were the only fully co-ed chapter of Delta Kappa Epsilon nationwide. We almost lost our charter because of this. We had a pumpkin carving party for new recruits and it was usually quite successful. Every year, we threw the best Halloween party on campus, and we always had a kickass live band. Almost every year, from the time I was a little boy until I was in my mid-thirties, I dressed up as something for Halloween.

In my “adult” years, that costume was, by necessity, beer friendly, and one of my favorite masks was a disgustingly orange latex pig mask. I got a lot of mileage out of that mask, which was ingeniously designed so as not to impair one’s ability to guzzle beer.

One magical Halloween weekend back in the eighties, a friend of mine threw a bus party. He rented a school bus and a driver, and he invited thirty or forty guests (including me) to join him, in costume, as we travelled around to various bars in Buffalo. This bus party was, hands down, the best Halloween party I have ever attended. We essentially transformed each bar we invaded into a wild Halloween party, and as the night wore on, it got funnier and funnier. There was a famous TV star among the party goers, but no one outside of the party knew who he was, because he was in disguised in full clown make-up. Of course there was a pre-lubrication party to get us all loosened up, and there was heavy drinking on the bus as well. By the time we’d hit the first couple of bars we were all fairly inebriated, and we were clearly a force to be reckoned with. I was dressed as a “Sabre-ette”, one of the short-lived Buffalo Sabres cheerleaders. I wore blue spandex tights, a vintage Buffalo Sabres tee shirt stuffed with balloons, and a giant blonde wig. I spent a long time putting on my make-up, which was rather a waste of time because, after a few drinks, I looked like a train wreck. One of the things I’ve noticed about Halloween costumes is that, when combined with alcohol, they make the wearer exponentially more impervious to shame. The last four or five bars we attended were a complete blur, and by the end of the evening, I looked more like a zombie than a cheerleader. By then, I was flat-chested, my make-up was smeared all over my face, my wig was on backward, and I was covered in mud and snow. It was the perfect Halloween transformation and, I think, a successful outing.

I threw and attended some good Halloween parties back in the eighties. I made a tuna fish costume one year; I was Abe Lincoln after he as shot, I was a dead lawyer, Toto from The Wizard Of Oz,and once, I was a very ugly go-go dancer. I even made custom go-go boots. Note to self, panty hose are terribly uncomfortable for men. As much as I have always enjoyed Halloween, there is the dark side to the celebration. Sometimes the trick part of the trick or treat borders on destructive. There have been recent reports on the news about homicidal clowns, and sometimes the lines of acceptable/mischievous behavior get blurred. The other day, my friend Grant Nickalls recounted a story on air about his early teen years wherein he did something on Halloween of which he was later ashamed. I remember reports of apples handed out with razor blades, and tainted candy, and once, about three doors from our house in Buffalo, I and several of my friends were mugged and robbed of our candy by a gang of thugs. Our house was egged, and more than once we had our windows marked with candle wax (much harder to remove than soap). Halloween has a dangerous side to it and some people revel in the more nefarious aspects.

   

I was talking with fellow songwriter Sean Cotton last week at the Burk’s Falls 3^rd Friday Coffee House, and he told me he is producing a musical in November, featuring local musicians. Entitled The Cat’s Cradle and using the songs of 70s songwriters like Harry Chapin, Jim Croce, Cat Stevens, and Carol King, Sean has written a story line around the songs to be performed by local artists. Sounds interesting. As Sean requested, I will feature some of these songwriters on my show Lyrical Workers this Thursday night.

   - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2016 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 10/24/16

Quite a while ago, when I was perhaps 30 or 40 shows into my budding career as a radio host, I received my first fan mail from a listener in Mactier, Ontario. It came in the form of a text on a computer screen. At Hunters Bay Radio, there is a text line wherein listeners can text in requests to the station, or post comments, and DJs can read the texts on a monitor and respond if they so choose. One Thursday night, while I was doing my show, on came a message, responding to some self-deprecating remark I had just made on air. The message was very complimentary, and the sender represented himself as “Crisco the Soul Man” from Mactier. I don’t get a lot of fan mail; correction, I don’t get any fan mail, so I remembered this guy. Jump ahead to early last summer, when HBR had a gathering to commemorate the late James Carroll, and to dedicate a bench to him. Crisco showed up for the event, and I then had the opportunity to meet my one fan in person. Several months later, Crisco, a/k/a Chris Brown, began to make regular visits to the station on weekends. He brought coffee and baked goods to share, and most important, he brought with him some of his extensive collection of R&B, Soul, Funk, and Blues music to load into the HBR music library. A new volunteer was born.

Over the past several weeks, I have had the opportunity to get to know Chris a little better, and he is an interesting and entertaining fellow. He is older than I am, has been a soul/R&B drummer and singer for many years, and has played around Toronto in I think more than one band. In his travels he has met some famous musicians. He’s now been a guest on several HBR radio shows, introducing our listeners to some of the lesser known soul and R&B acts about which he seems well informed. Community radio is all about informing the public, and I’ve found his commentary very interesting. Get him started and he can talk for hours about the origins of the legendary STAX Music label, or the back story behind a certain obscure soul band from the 60s or 70s. His knowledge and his passion for the music he loves is contagious, and it is that same enthusiasm for good music that first drew me to the radio station. I have a lot of friends who are music lovers, and it is their collective influence that has broadened my horizons. Presently, Shauna’s almost 92 year-old mom Ethel is hosting a show broadcast on Sunday nights entitled “Martini Music” and this was one of the many shows that James Carroll used to host. Never a big fan of crooner music, I have grown to appreciate it more in the past few years. Some of the songwriting and musical arrangements are exceptional, and it has definitely influenced my song writing.

There is no shortage of good music and songwriting in the world today, old and new. The problem is, not all that much of it is being broadcast on mainstream radio. Little community and campus radio stations are the only ones carrying the torch. With the advent of satellite radio, subscribers listen to the genre of music they choose, and nothing else, which is, I think, problematic. On my show, I try to feature a wide variety of songs in all genres, and from all eras. My reasoning is that good songs are timeless. You may not appreciate the Cole Porter tune I play, that precedes the Procal Harum rock classic I also like, but the show is about songs that have influenced me as a songwriter. If you listen to my new CD Imposters Game, you will hear how those many different styles have influenced my music. Had I not been exposed to many different styles of music, I could never have written this album, or would I have written the other 130 songs I have so far written. My favorite music used to classic rock ‘n roll, but over the years, my tastes in music have changed to include Rockabilly, Bluegrass, Texas Swing, Blues, Soul, Jazz, Reggae, some Country, Punk, New Wave, and many other styles. Opera and Rap not so much, yet.  In much the same way as cell phone texting and emails have eroded the art of written communication, so has satellite radio and short-attention-span commercial radio done a disservice to diversity, and to new, original creators of music.

I watch many of my musician friends struggle to make ends meet, and there seems to be a trend away from attending live concerts in smaller venues. Festival attendance in many venues is down, and the music business has been upended in the past two or three decades. That has had negative ramifications for the artists who rely on touring to earn a living. Perhaps in the near future, no one will attend live concerts, because everyone will elect to watch live feeds on their computers. I will be forever grateful to Hunters Bay Radio and stations like it, who broadcast live acts, feature under-recognized local talent, and act as a conduit for gifted artists who want to be heard. We have a good team of music lovers who volunteer at Hunters Bay Radio, and they keep the flame alive by presenting what they like to hear, not what some corporation dictates they play. Welcome aboard Crisco, nice to have another well-informed music lover on the team!

   - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2016 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 10/17/16

Back in 2011, when my father was nearing the end of his life in Buffalo, my family considered enlisting the services of hospice for him, but the hospice facility in Buffalo was quite a distance from our home. Instead, we elected to care for Dad at home during his final months, with around-the-clock nurses. Fortunately, several nurses on our team had hospice training, and these nurses are worth their weight in gold. For those unfamiliar with the organization, the hospice directive is to allow the terminally ill patient to pass on with as much comfort and tranquility as possible. No extreme measures are made to keep the patient alive, and all focus is on pain management and a peaceful transition. Hospice allows families to spend their last days with their loved one, in a peaceful, quiet environment, free of the cacophony and indignity that so often accompanies a hospital or health care facility. It is an invaluable service, but you only realize this when you need it. I have spent a lot of time in hospitals over the past six or seven years, and the experience has changed me. The most noticeable change is that I have grown much more sensitive to the challenges that healthy caregivers face, be they friends or family. No matter who lobbies for your health care, and especially wherein terminal illness is concerned, the experience is life changing. My dad passed on peacefully in the comfort of his own home, of old age, and surrounded by love and excellent health care. So did my mom, albeit with the obvious complications that come with Lewy Body dementia. I am thankful my sister and I made the decisions we did to allow Mom and Dad to live out their lives in their own home. Still, there were many difficult decisions that came up, and it was helpful to have some professional guidance. My father-in-law was essentially in a coma for the last several months of his life, in a hospital in Toronto, and our health care decisions on his behalf were complicated and heart-rending. His last days were spent in the Veterans wing of Sunnybrook Hospital, which was somewhat akin to the hospice experience. I was so very relieved that his last days were not spent in the stroke ward of Sunnybrook Hospital.  If you’ve ever spent one day there, let alone three months, as we did, and you will know what I mean.

During the short period of time that our friend James Carroll was residing at the Huntsville Hospice, I had an opportunity to see how beneficial this organization is. The facility is beautiful and everyone working there is professional and helpful. At a difficult time, the environment was calm and peaceful. Shortly after James passed on last spring, I stopped by the facility to drop off some unused medical supplies from James’ apartment, thinking perhaps hospice could use them. When I walked up to the front door, I noticed my friend and fellow singer songwriter Jamie Clarke, sitting outside with some other people. I learned that his father was gravely ill and residing in the facility. Shortly after his dad passed away, Jamie posted a message that he was organizing a benefit concert for hospice. In the message he reminded us that this facility was reliant on private funding and required the support of the community. I’m certain Jamie think felt grateful for the services hospice had provided to him and his family, and he wanted to pay it forward.

Last Saturday night, we attended that benefit concert at the Algonquin Theatre in Huntsville. It was a great show played to a full house. The first act was Julian Taylor with a bandmate from the Julian Taylor Band, performing an acoustic set. In the “long story” department, Julian’s sister is named after my wife Shauna Leigh. I’m a fan of this award-winning songwriter, and had a few minutes during intermission to chat with him. Next up was Jamie with his band Myrle, featuring his multi-talented producer, and well known Canadian singer songwriter Ron Hawkins. I’ve become a huge fan of Ron Hawkins’ songwriting over the past several years, and he did a great job producing Jamie’s last album “A Dozen Hearts”. What Jamie did Saturday night was a big deal. Many musicians these days are struggling to make a name for themselves, in an ever more competitive market. Jamie and his bandmates put together a great show, pro bono, and raised over $20,000 was raised for Huntsville Hospice. As I have said so many times before, we live in a great community, full of talented and generous musicians.

   - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2016 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 10/10/16

Today is the Canadian Thanksgiving, and most of the cottagers on our lake will now pull up their docks, drain the pipes, and head home until next season. Within a week or so, this lake will be empty of its inhabitants, and I love it up here when everyone goes home. A city boy most of my life, I have grown to enjoy the solitude up here in the fall and winter. I can motor around on our little lake in my dinghy without seeing another soul. One of my favorite pass times is to putt around in the nearby Magnetawan River, with my voice recorder in hand, reciting ideas for song lyrics and Oppenheimer Reports. “What’s up with adult diapers … is our incontinence so severe that we really need to wear something that will absorb a litre of Coke?” With no distractions, this is a perfect atmosphere in which to create and write.

There was a commercial on television the other day that made me laugh, partly because it was intended to be funny, but also because it made me think about the competitive field of acting. In it, a woman in an office is plagued by some kind of bowel disorder, personified by a skinny woman in a silly red wig, and wearing a beige unitard featuring a diagram of the human intestinal tract. The bowel disorder follows the victim everywhere, preventing her from going about her normal daily routine. I can just hear this young actress referencing this part in her resume: “And I was the woman who played “diarrhea” in that bowel disorder medication commercial.” Not every actor is offered the part of Macbeth, and I’m sure that there are many actors who make a good living personifying sponge towels, or nostril debris, or painful rectal itch in TV commercials. Still, when you do make it big, won’t some of these jobs come back to haunt you? George Clooney got his big break in “Attack Of The Killer Tomatoes,” which I suppose is marginally better than playing “diarrhea” in a bowel disorder commercial. No matter how you slice it, show biz ain’t pretty.

I was amused to watch CNN’s coverage last Thursday night, as Hurricane Matthew began to hammer the Florida coast and points north. When the hurricane did not prove to be as newsworthy and devastatingly destructive as anticipated, they moved on to the next roadkill: Donald Trump, pilloried for an incriminating 12 year-old videotape, which conveniently surfaced shortly before yesterday’s town hall debate in St Louis, Missouri. In the tape, Trump can be heard making disturbing, vulgar, and predatory remarks about women, and bragging about sexual assault. While many have complained about Trump’s misogyny and sexual indiscretions before, this is the most outrageous recording to come out to date. It was disgusting, but then I started to think about all the insane drek this man has uttered so far, and I am astounded by his poll numbers. He called the incriminating videotape “locker room banter” but I think even his campaign manager must have done a double take when she heard this. Never having shown him much support, the Republican Party has virtually abandoned him now, and maybe that is a blessing for the Donald. If Trump wanted to upend the political system and call attention to all the hypocrisy of the campaign process, I think he has succeeded against all odds. Clearly, he has embarrassed the Republican Party, as well as the biased media which so overtly spins his nonsense in whatever direction they choose. He has managed to sway an embarrassingly large number of Americans to follow him, and what does this say about the state of the union? Are these people ALL stupid, or angry, or both? My worst nightmare has finally happened: reality television has in fact become reality. How can we pick better leaders, be more discriminating, when so many of us gravitate to the lowest common denominator of human behavior?! What does it say about us, or our faith in democracy, that as a nation we are prepared to vote in a bozo like Trump, simply because we think he’s better than the status quo? Is Trump the guy to fix our broken political system? I don’t think so.

Saturday was my 61^st birthday, and it was a beautiful day. Shauna, her 91 year-old mom, and I had a lovely dinner up in nearby Sundridge. I, of course, ate too much. Today, on the Canadian Thanksgiving, I am reminded of all my blessings, and am thankful for all the good friends and family I have known over these many years. I remember fondly the family gatherings in Buffalo during the American Thanksgiving, and in these strange times, I comfort myself with the notion that the love by which I have been surrounded over these past 61 years will be enough to weather the growing storm around me. For now, I look forward to one or two quiet fall days.      - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2016 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 10/3/16

Graphic Art by Shauna Leigh Taylor

A few months ago, I bought a new car, something I have been putting off for a year or two. I don’t enjoy what some consider the blood sport of negotiating to buy a new car. The old car had served me well, and was a fiftieth birthday present from my now deceased parents. For the sake of nostalgia, I would have kept it for a lot longer, but expensive things were starting to go wrong with it, and common sense dictated that I trade it in. The air conditioner failed, and this alone was going to be $3000 repair. I knew other expensive repairs were on the horizon, and since the car had been trouble free for ten years, I reasoned that it was time to quit while I was ahead.

 

The new car is very similar to the old one; it is the same size, it has a similar motor, but it is a little less fancy. I like the car, but there are a few things that bother me about it. In the ten years since I was in the market for an automobile, there have been a lot of electronic bells and whistles added. For instance, there is a lane departure warning feature, which makes the car vibrate when I change lanes without using my signal. That is annoying and I quickly disabled this feature. Sometimes it re-engages on its own, which is likely some kind of computer glitch. Then there are the automatic door locks. To unlock this keyless ignition car, one needs only grasp the door handle of one of the front doors to unlock it, but on the driver’s side, no matter what I do, this does not unlock the driver’s side passenger door. As well, the unlock feature does not always work properly, and I generally do not like touch sensor technology. The radio is a touch screen, which I find ridiculous. Give me manual knobs any day! If one inserts a CD in the player, it works until the car is turned off. When the car is re-started, one needs to eject and re-insert the CD in order for it to play. With every other car stereo I have ever owned, if I turn the car off while a CD is playing, when I start the car again, the CD starts playing again where it left off. In fact, the sound system on this car, while operable from the steering wheel, is complicated and user-unfriendly. Operating a cell phone while driving is illegal, and we are not supposed to be distracted when we drive, but simply operating this radio is a huge distraction! Same goes for the GPS. I have never liked touch screen technology, because sometimes it just doesn’t work. Touch screens can be affected by temperature change. Have you ever tapped the screen on your phone multiple times before your command registers? It happens to me all the time. Maybe I am legally dead. There is a backup camera, which is useful, if it is free of dirt. The camera is mounted in the rear bumper and road grime easily renders it unreadable. It all boils down to this: I didn’t see it coming but I’ve turned into the old fart who can’t use the remote. I know I’ve ranted about this many times before, but at some point, all these labor saving “improvements” become anything but. I don’t need or want all the bells and whistles. Give me a car, with a good, easy-to-use stereo, and keep all the electronic bullshit for someone else. I think back fondly to my 1967 Triumph Spitfire  (which I bought for $400) and its primitive design. Yes, the car was a British Leyland piece of crap, and the lights fluttered every time I went over a bump in the road, but it usually ran OK, it had great sound effects, I could tune it with a pen knife, and I could start it with a screwdriver if I lost the key. With driverless technology becoming a not-too-distant reality, all control will be left to computerized electronic parts. The more electronic stuff we pack into our vehicles, the more stuff that can go wrong, leaving us stranded in the middle of nowhere. I don’t think my pen knife is going to do me any good when the auto pilot malfunctions on the highway at 65MPH.
 

Last Wednesday, I released my first CD of original songs “Imposters Game” live on the Hunters Bay Radio show Talent On The Bay. I thank all the local folks who showed up at the studio to attend the interview and who offered me moral support. My interviewer was morning show host and good friend Grant Nickalls, and he put this very nervous interviewee at ease. Also interviewed was my producer, Juan Barbosa. I’ve been on the radio a lot in the past two years, and I don’t generally get too nervous about playing live, but this interview was different. For the first time ever in 35 years I am releasing my songs for public scrutiny. I think the interview went well, and as I said in previous reports, I feel good because I have finally presented some of my songs to the public. While I doubt my contribution will make much of an impact on the ever-expanding world of music.,I am proud to have done this, and now friends and family will be able to hear properly recorded examples of the songs I write.   - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2016 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 9/26/16

Last night, I travelled down to Bracebridge for a party to kick off the renovation of The Muskoka Foundry. Construction begins shortly to renovate the approximately 30,000 square foot high bay industrial facility, which an ambitious entrepreneur intends to convert into mixed use commercial and retail space. I was there as one of several representatives of Hunters Bay Radio, because when the project is complete, our little community radio station will have a satellite operation broadcasting out of this location. We do have a location in Bracebridge presently, but this new site will be a substantial improvement. A glassed-in HBR broadcast booth, centrally located in this prestigious commercial facility, will increase our exposure considerably. There were several musicians and bands featured at the event, including Kearney’s own Douglas McLean, playing some of his original songs, along with his wife Arlene. One of the scheduled acts was unable to perform, and Doug asked me if I would get up and play a few of my songs to fill in. I tried to weasel out of it, using the excuse that I did not have an instrument, but Doug smiled wryly at me and said, “No problem, you can use my guitar!” My throat closed up and I got that feeling one gets climbing the first rise of a roller coaster, but I did get up and play. Do one thing every day that scares you, and try to say “no” as little as possible. Unrehearsed, I got up in front of 200+ people and performed.

 

One of the good things about playing music to a bunch of people at a gathering such as this Foundry debut, is that very few guests are actually listening. Oftentimes professional musicians play venues and parties, where liquor is served, and more often than not, the crowd is talking and not really paying attention. If you’re a cover band playing crowd favorites, like “Sweet Home Alabama” you might get a rise out of the audience, but I am anything but that. My originals are not toe-tappers, and I am always aware of the audience to which I am playing. Long story short, I got up and did a short set of my songs, to an audience that would probably have preferred to hear Michael Jackson covers. I think I did ok for an impromptu performance; at least no one threw anything at me. Thanks to Hunters Bay Radio, there are a few people in the local community who may recognize the songs I played. The timing was good, because this Wednesday I officially release the “Imposters Game” CD live on air at HBR. I left the stage shaking, but exhilarated. The end of this rather self-indulgent story is that, after my set, Johnny Fay, the drummer for “The Tragically Hip” came up to me and shook my hand! He happened to be playing after me, drumming for the country band Grant Tingey and Hired Hand. I realize he was probably just being respectful and polite to a visibly nervous fellow performer, but that handshake meant the world to me. I was genuinely touched by this kind gesture, and it made me feel like a fellow musician.

 

On the subject of original performances, I read an interesting interview with one of my Canadian songwriting idols Jon Brooks, and in it Jon lamented the eroding respect much of the listening public shows for original singer songwriters. He talked about playing a gig one night, maybe in downtown Toronto, and after he did his sound check he went outside the club for a breath of fresh air. Keep in mind, Jon is an award winning songwriter who regularly sells out venues all over the world. A group of young men walked by the venue and one of them asked who was playing. Another looked inside, saw the stage set up with a couple of acoustic guitars, and sniffed, “It’s just some guy with a guitar.” I used to be one of those guys, and I never went to the acoustic singer songwriter shows. Unfortunately, some people assume that a stripped down performance will suck. The more I learn about the craft of songwriting, the more I appreciate the power of a simple acoustic performance. In a bare bones performance, there is nothing to hide the success or failure of a song. A strong song, presented without an elaborate arrangement, can be remarkably powerful. The day after tomorrow, I release the first CD I have ever made in the 35 years since I began to write songs. All I have ever done is compose on an acoustic guitar, but I have been listening and learning from the artists I admire. This album is not perfect, but it is an honest translation, recorded by a gifted musician and arranger, of the songs I have only ever before performed on an acoustic guitar. I am so happy to have finally done this, after so many years of dreaming about it. If you have the opportunity, tune into Hunters Bay Radio (huntersbayradio.com) and listen live on Tuesday night from 6-7PM as I release my first album of songs to the public. If you’re local, stop in and join me!

                        - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2016 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 9/19/16

One of the many things I love about doing a radio show dealing with songwriters is that it puts me back in touch with some people with whom I have not spoken in decades. Several of my high school classmates listen to the show on the internet occasionally, and each one of them has distinctive tastes in music. From time to time they give me suggestions for what to play on my show. One classmate, who now lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico just sent me a list of his 400 favorite songs. When I consult that list it brings back a lot of fond memories. Many of the songs on his hit list were tunes I listened to a long time ago and have not heard since. I’m sure some of those songs will end up in my show. Everyone knows someone who wrote an original song, and whether or not it’s a strong song, there is a story behind it. I have had many conversations with relative strangers about their song writing experiences. There is no better way to learn more about the craft than to examine the tastes of many different people. I’ve met some very interesting songwriters and learned something about the craft from my interviews. The show has always been about my quest to learn more about songwriting, and I love hearing the stories about the who, what, where, and when of a song. Last week, I played an old Yardbirds tune that I’d always assumed was written by the members of the band. One of their biggest hits, “For Your Love” and it has been covered by countless other bands, but was in fact written by another songwriter, Graham Gouldman. A founding member of the band 10CC,  Gouldman wrote or co-wrote a lot of hits from the 60's and 70's, including the famous Hollies hit “Bus Stop”. When I read these stories, I realize that a lot of people are probably like me, and don’t know who actually wrote these songs. Some of my fellow musicians are now telling me that there are not a lot of radio shows that focus on the actual songwriters. Perhaps I have found my niche.

 

Speaking of songwriting, last Thursday I received a shipment containing 300 CDs of my first album Imposters Game. I am apprehensive about releasing it to the public, but the die is cast. While recognition is the brass ring, now that I am actually putting my songs out there for anyone to hear, I am apprehensive. I suppose it’s silly to even worry about this, as the number of people interested in my work can probably be counted on two hands. Still, I have written in a vacuum for 35 years and am just now releasing my first set of songs to the general public. I feels strange. A week Wednesday, I will go on air at Hunters Bay Radio, with my producer Juan Barbosa, and talk a little bit about the process of making Imposters Game. There will be no official CD release, just this radio show. After the show, the album will be available at the radio station, all proceeds from its sale going to the station, and I can move on to my next project. I never thought I’d release a CD of my songs that merits attention, but I am proud to have made this album. I hope a lot of people find the time to listen to it. Arrogant to imagine, but I dream that the release of this album could somehow bring some much deserved recognition to Hunters Bay Radio, which has helped so many artists like me blossom. Dare to dream.

The fifteenth anniversary of 9-11 snuck up on me. It wasn’t until the six o’clock news came on that I realized what day it was. Later that night, we watched that famous documentary released after 9-11, intended to be about the newbie at a lower Manhattan FDNY fire hall, which included all that remarkable footage from the day. I’d forgotten that the cameraman had filmed the falling of the second tower from Ground Zero! I still bristle when I see those towers fall. That was the Pearl Harbor of my generation, but it was a different kind of enemy. And finally, there was a story on the news the other night about the growing pet health industry. Last year, North Americans spent $60 billion on pet health, up 75% from the year 2000. There are pet spas springing up in larger North American cities and people are paying big bucks to enlist their pets in elaborate fitness programs. There is pet yoga, pet hydrotherapy, and designer pet clothing, but the silliest thing I watched was some gourmet pet food caterer offering beautifully presented plates of dog food, that look like something you might see in a five star restaurant. Everyone knows that the dogs don’t care about presentation and that they are just going to hoover down the food in three gulps. Clearly this is for the owner’s benefit. Nouvelle cuisine for pooches; have we all gone mad?

                          - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2016 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 9/12/16

As I’ve said many times in this report, I never cease to be impressed by the improvement I observe in local songwriters. A few weeks ago, we attended a concert at the Algonquin Theatre in Huntsville for the release of Clayton Earl’s first CD and DVD entitled Now You Know Me. Clayton is a relative newcomer to the local songwriter scene, and the first time I saw him perform several years ago was perhaps his first real public performance as a songwriter. That first night, his stage presence was a little stiff, but there was something about his songs that resonated in me. I’ve seen him perform a few times since, and he has improved with each show. At the CD release performance, he brought in several ringers from the local musician pool, and coupled with his improved stage presence, the concert was really good. Decidedly, what moved me most was the message of the documentary.

The show began with the debut screening of a documentary, produced by Mark Boucher, entitled “Now You Know Me” and it features interviews with Clayton about what until then had been his secret. What none of us in the audience knew, including Clayton’s own father, was that Clayton suffers from severe depression, and has more than once come very close to ending his own life. He discusses it unabashedly in the video, and leaves us with the message that suicidal tendencies are not something to be ignored. Tragically, this is a well-kept secret, and suicides are on the rise, especially among young people. In fact, I  was shocked by the numbers. The problem is that sufferers feel shame and self-loathing, and often successfully hide their feeling from their friends and families. His message is directed to the sufferers: I have this, and I found a way out; you can too. I know Clayton will save lives with this video. Maybe he already has.

 

Clayton hit a raw nerve in me, because I too suffer from depression and, albeit not as severe as his, mine has been at times paralyzing. He talks about how songwriting became a cathartic therapy for him, and exorcised some of the dark thoughts in his head. I relate to that, because it has been the same for me. Some of my songs are pretty dark, but once out of me, the toxic thoughts are externalized, and I feel relief.  Of course not all songs are going to be interesting to or fit for the general public, but for me, it is the songs that explore inner turmoil that most interest me. If you suffer from depression, you know what a prison it can be. Sometimes it’s as simple as a chemical imbalance, and can be modified with drugs, or even better nutrition, but one needs to recognize the illness before one can address it. This is what is so sad, many do not, and many kill themselves as a result of their feelings of hopelessness. How many creative souls have succumbed to the ravages of drugs and/or alcohol because of their inability to cope? We watch the celebrity train wrecks and shake our heads wondering how someone successful could fail so catastrophically. I’m not a celebrity, but I know what it is like to have everything a man could want, but to still feel worthless. The reasons I quit drinking in 2013 are manifold, but to be honest, a good part of it was the realization that alcohol contributed to my self-loathing. Now that I no longer drink, my self-esteem has improved inestimably. Not usually one to play the evangelical, sober alcoholic, I will say this. I could never have hosted a radio show, or performed my original songs live on air, or finally created that ever-elusive CD of my songs, had I still been under the control of the bottle.

    

Last Thursday night, I performed live on air at Hunters Bay Radio for about an hour, and a video of the performance was recorded on Periscope. I don’t do a lot of live performances, but if you want to see what that looks like, consult the Hunters Bay Radio Facebook page. I’m on there somewhere. I can see improvement in my performance, and I am proud of myself for having improved. To me, that is my Juno, or Grammy. To all the people out there, and especially to those who are creative but feel detached from the general public, you are not alone. Many of us have feelings of low self-esteem. Clayton has done a brave thing here. He inspires the rest of us in his community to wake up to the problem, and to get the help some of us sorely need. Nice work Clayton, we need more people in the community like you.

 

  - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2016 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 9/5/16

 

To follow is a report I wrote just about 20 years ago, and I think it is worthy of a repost, especially considering that it is likely  only 12 people read it the first time around ...

 

The Oppenheimer Report - 9/14/96

 

The other night, I was surfing the tube, looking for something to watch for half an hour that wasn’t completely depressing, and I was rewarded with a documentary on Barbie ... the doll, that is. Of course I had to watch.

 

Forget that Saddam Hussein is very close to provoking a war with the United States, forget about the increasing use of heroin among young American adults, as reported by Dan Rather ... we have some really important news here. Barbie has big boobs ... and Ken is a rich, apathetic twit without a pecker.

 

When I first started watching this program, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Admittedly, I came in about a third of the way through the show, but I think I caught the drift. Basically, it was a commentary by several so-called Barbie experts about what Barbie has “done” through the ages;  what she was feeling, whether sex was on her mind (tough call, because  Ken doesn’t have any genitalia), and who she “became” as time went on.  Is she a gum-chewing, licentious, conniving (albeit well-dressed) she-devil, or a sensitive, intelligent wonder woman, preoccupied with helping others? Does she get depressed? People were actually discussing these “issues” with a straight face.

 

They even went so far as to cover interviews with women who sought to be Barbie. That was frightening... that they have Barbie look alike contests...with real women choosing to compete in them!  I recalled seeing a show about some woman who had had multiple plastic surgeries in order to make herself look like Barbie. I don’t know how any of my readers feel about this, but I think what we have here are some people with way way too much time on their hands. Surely, Barbie has provided hours of fun and entertainment for her billions of adoring young (and old) fans. Still, at the end of the day, is not Barbie a plastic doll, with detachable limbs, painted eyes, and synthetic hair punched neatly  into her empty plastic head? I don’t get it. Does Barbie worry about world peace? I think not. Is she an insult to the feminist movement in America and abroad, because she represents everything that is shallow and superficial about women? I haven’t given it much thought, but what kind of person would? Does she “do” Ken? My goodness, is NOTHING sacred??  Besides, I always thought Barbie was saving herself for marriage.     

 

There are all sorts of Barbie Dolls, and Barbie has changed over the years  to reflect the times.  I have a few suggestions for Barbies that I think would  typify these turbulent 90's ...

Since everyone is so serious about attaching real feelings and emotions to this doll, how about  ...  “ Pregnant Teen Barbie”, “Crack Whore Barbie”, “Single Mother on Welfare with Six Kids Barbie”, “Dominatrix Barbie”, “Wasted Rock Star on Heroin Carrying the Ashes of Her Dead Husband  Around in a Backpack  Barbie” ... you get the idea.

 

At one point during this  programming gem, it was suggested that Barbie might one day be responsible for world peace, and I do think this is possible ... in fact I have a suggestion. Why don’t they paint Barbie onto all the missiles they’re about to lob at Saddam and his unfortunate  countrymen. Then she can make her small contribution to world peace ... but Mother Teresa she will never be. -Written by Jamie Oppenheimer

 

 

This Thursday night from 6-7PM, and before my weekly radio show Lyrical Workers (8-11PM), I will be playing a live set on air at Hunters Bay Radio. For those of you out-of-towners who might be interested in listening, the performance will be available online by clicking on one of the following links: http://www.muskokaonline.com/, http://www.huntersbayradio.com, http://tunein.com/radio/Hunters-Bay-Radio-887-s223886/, and http://74.119.88.66/test.htm  

The Oppenheimer Report 8/29/16

Last Thursday afternoon, my lovely wife Shauna accompanied me to Hunters Bay Radio to watch the live on-air performance of Noah Zacharin, a Montreal singer / songwriter whom we have both come to admire. After that “Live Drive” show, Shauna did her social media posting for my show in the station, while I did my radio show. It was fun to have her there with me, and it’s the first time she has actually seen me do my show. To follow is the Facebook review I posted about Noah Zacharin’s  performance …

Have you ever seen a musician perform live for the first time, expecting that musician or songwriter to be good, only to be floored when you finally saw the performance? The first time I heard Noah Zacharin’s recorded music was on fellow singer songwriter Douglas Eldon Mclean’s Monday night blues and folk show, which airs Monday nights on Hunters Bay Radio. I was impressed enough to download one of Noah’s album’s - Big Daddy Z – and I quickly realized that this man is a formidable songwriter. When I met him in person last Thursday at the Hunters Bay Radio station, for his “Live Drive” performance, my first impression was that he was a soft-spoken, introspective man. When he began to perform, his wry wit, humour, and intelligence began to trickle out, and then he simply sucker punched both Shauna and me with his talent. The reticent man was anything but when he began to perform, and both Shauna and I were die-hard fans by the end of the set. Noah’s skill as a guitarist, and his extremely thoughtful, beautifully crafted lyrics, left me slack-jawed by the time his 45 minute performance was over. There are good pickers everywhere in my ever expanding musical universe, and I’m learning that there are a lot (too many in fact) of talented, under-recognized songwriters as well. Noah is decidedly both. Last night at Hunters Bay Radio, Shauna and I looked at each other right after Noah’s set, incredulous at what we had heard. We went home and reviewed the entire performance on the Periscope video Hunters Bay Radio puts up after these shows. I realized how much I’d failed to absorb during the live performance, because there’s just so much going on with this guy. If you are unfamiliar with his work, do yourself a favor and consult YouTube for a performance or two to get up to speed. Two of my favorite songs in the Thursday night show were “Can’t Wake Up” and “Ten Tons Of Road” but all the songs he played were noteworthy. In the past year or so, as my education into the art of song writing has taken an end run around the masters I have always admired, I have been exposed to artists such as Jon Brooks, Rita Chiarelli, Rob Lutes, Jason Isbell, Ryan Bingham, Gene Maclellan, Steve Goodman, Dave Gunning, Mose Allison, Scott Nolan, Chuck Brodsky, Rick Fines, Suzie Vinnick, and John Stewart, to name but a few. It has become glaringly apparent to me how much I do not know about the exceptional songwriters, past and present, floating around in the music universe. Until I began to air my radio show, and began to research songs I like, I was in the dark. It is because of our local community radio station, Hunters Bay Radio, and other like-minded alternative radio stations, forums that go against the swelling tide of soul-less, auto-tuned pop, that I have grown some perspective on how much good music there is out there. Now I can add Noah Zacharin to my ever-expanding list of gifted songwriters. Thank you Noah for that delightful performance last Thursday night; what a pleasure it was to finally meet you! And thanks to Hunters Bay Radio, and all the other community and college stations out there that continue to present these wonderful artists. Noah, I look forward to seeing you perform again, surrounded by a large and receptive audience at a festival or concert hall. I am becoming harder and harder to impress these days, but last Thursday night, you did that, in spades.

 

I write these reports, and I write songs, and I do my little radio show about song writing, in hopes that I will grow, improve, and learn. I become a better songwriter by watching, reading, and listening to the writers I admire. There is so much wonderful literature, poetry, music, and fine art out there to be appreciated, but I think much of it is eclipsed by that which is deemed sellable, or “mainstream”. Certainly, all art is subject to the tastes of the individual, but in my opinion, the cream is not always rising to the top. My goal is to become a better songwriter, and to perhaps bring some much deserved attention to those artists whom I admire. But enough about me, what do YOU think of me?  

 

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2016 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 8/22/16

Thousands gather at River Mill Park in Huntsville to watch The Tragically Hip broadcast
(Photo by John A Macdonald)

Last weekend marked the fifth Burk’s Falls Country Jamboree music festival and, for the first time ever, there were two stages. On the main stage were the traditional country acts and on the second stage, located in the nearby Burk’s Falls Legion, were various different kinds of acts, including rock, folk, and local singer songwriters (the category wherein I fall). After years of hearing about the band, Friday night, under a bright orange harvest moon, I finally saw and heard The Good Brothers perform live. These guys have been a part of the Canadian music scene for around forty years, and they were exceptional, far exceeding my expectations for an entertaining night.  A relative newcomer to Canadian music, I’m always trying to learn something about Canadian songwriters, and I always ask friends, and even perfect strangers, what song would they like to hear on my radio show and why. Not only does this ensure an eclectic mix of music, but some of the recommendations have become new favorites of mine. Some of the songs are amusing as well  ... for example: “If My Heart Had An Ass I’d Kick It For Loving You”, by Gerald Collier. The other day, I was talking to a technician working on some Wi-Fi issues in our house, and when he heard the Good Brothers were playing locally, he volunteered that one of his favorite Good Brothers songs is a tune called “Honk On Bobo”. Of course I looked it up, and  I love the message. It will air on this week’s show, with an explanation about how I learned about the song. My musical education continues to be random, interesting, and I hope entertaining to others.

 

Millions of Canadians tuned in to CBC on Saturday night to watch the final concert of the legendary Canadian rock band The Tragically Hip, broadcast from their hometown of Kingston, Ontario. We recorded the concert and watched it after a full day of music at the festival. I didn’t think I’d make it through the entire concert, but once it began, I could not turn it off. I’ve been a fan of The Hip for about 25 years, and front man Gord Downie is one of my songwriting heroes. Much of The Hip’s music weaves a lyrical tapestry of the country where they live, and the band is hugely popular throughout Canada. News of Downie’s terminal brain cancer has saddened so many, and this final concert was, of course, bittersweet. There were many outdoor gatherings set up to view the broadcast on a big screen, and I’m so glad that CBC found this wonderful way to ensure that all those who could not attend one of the final concerts in person were able to see the very last live concert so well filmed. By the way, kudos to CBC for their spectacular Summer Olympics coverage as well; it might have been the best sports coverage I have ever seen. One of the main reasons I am so supportive of the local music community, and of Hunters Bay Radio, is that I feel music brings the community together. I know I am idealistic to believe this, but I feel music transcends gender, class, race, politics, and all the other things that divide us. As yellow journalism continues to poison our perception of the human community, I think a lot of Canadians are proud to have a band like The Hip who are at once so uniquely Canadian, but also such a cool, fantastic band on the world stage. As I become more and more aware of my mortality, I continue to write songs in the hopes that when I am gone, one or two of those pieces of me will live on. It is sad that Gord Downie is so ill and will probably pass on before he turns 60. Of late it seems as if many of the best and brightest are being taken before their time. My friend James Carroll comes to mind. Nevertheless, when Downie leaves this earth, as we all will some day, he will have left behind a rich legacy of his poetic lyrics, and he will be appreciated and enjoyed by millions, long after he takes his last breath. How many of us can say this?

Speaking of The Tragically Hip … one final note in the “small world” department. One of the bands that played last Saturday night was a band from Gravenhurst that we love called Bet Smith and the Currie Brothers. I bought my ’62 Kay Red Devil guitar from Andrew Currie who, along with his brother Rob owns the wonderful Currie's Music Store in Gravenhurst. The last track on Man Machine Poem, which is the thirteenth and last album The Tragically Hip will ever record with Gord Downie, features a drum track created by Andrew and Rob Currie, and recorded at the music studio in their store. The song was built around that drum track and, in Gord Downie’s own hand writing, Rob Currie is listed in the credits of that final album. I think that is very cool.

 

  - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2016 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED