Brad DeLong

Feist: The Bad in Each Other

Via Paul Krugman:

The Muppets and Elton John: Crocodile Rock

Joy Division: Love Will Tear Us Apart

For All Those Scared That "Occupy Wall Street" Will Involve too Many Drum Circles...

R.I.P. Sylvia Robinson (1936-2011)

Racialicious:

Why Oh Why Can't We Have a Better Press Corps?

A.S. of the Economist seems really confused:

Social Security: The real truth about Social Security: SOCIAL SECURITY manages to be one of the most popular and misunderstood government programmes. It serves two purposes: to provide an income floor which keeps people out of poverty in retirement (a form of insurance), and to replace income from previous work (a forced saving scheme). There may be more efficient ways to achieve these goals, but generally, Social Security does a decent job at both.

But there is a stunning amount of ignorance when it comes to its financing. On the right, people like Rick Perry call it a Ponzi scheme based on lies. The left prefers to believe there's nothing wrong with the programme and figures when revenues and the trust fund can no longer cover benefit payments some simple accounting trick will save the day...

That is very odd. I thought that the left believed that Social Security's long-term financing problem is a fairly easy fix and the sooner it is done the cheaper it will be.

And then she says:

Social Security’s financing problems can be fixed, ideally with some combination of tax increases and progressive benefit cuts. It is a fairly easy fix and the sooner it is done the cheaper it will be.

Fitz and the Tantrums: MoneyGrabber

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals: Big White Gate

Rosanne Cash: 500 Miles

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals: Paris

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals: Stop the Bus

Clarence Clemons, RIP

Eric Alterman sends us:

Let me also take this opportunity to thank Michael Mattis for showing up at Weld Hall in the fall of 1978 with some 60 hours of E Street Band bootlegs on cassette tapes...

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals: Ain't No Time

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals: Ah Mary

Gimme Shelter

Jesus Diaz:

Best Video I've Seen Today Gives Me Goosebumps: Jesus Diaz — You know, being a hard core Rolling Stones fan I thought nobody would ever beat Keith, Mick, Charlie and Bill at their own game. I was wrong. Albeit different, this version matches the original and it gives me goosebumps. This Gimme Shelter cover was made by Playing for Change...

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals: Low Road

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals: Down by the River

Arcade Fire: The Suburbs

YouTube - Arcade Fire - The Suburbs (Unstaged):

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals: Paint It Black

Asteroids Galaxy Tour: The Golden Age

YouTube - The Golden Age:

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals: Heart of Glass

Delco Nightingale: Yes My Darling Daughter

Via Atrios: Delco Nightingale- Yes My Darling Daughter:

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals: Oye Como Va

Two Possible Responses to Paul Krugman's Posting of "My City Was Gone"

First: When the Routine Bites Hard/And Ambitions Are Low: Damhnait Doyle: Love Will Tear Us Apart:

Second: Every Living Thing/Pushed into the Ring: Metric: Stadium Love:

---

This last courtesy of Cosma Shalizi of Carnegie Mellon, who comments:

Every Living Thing, Pushed into the Ring: DeLong asks for the best response to "My City Was Gone", itself a response to "Mountains beyond Mountains". Since the content of the game has clearly moved from "sprawl" to "one-upmanship", I claim that the best response is in fact "Stadium Love". I actually prefer the official video, but concert footage seems to be an implicit rule of the game. Had the conversation not strayed, "Nothing but Flowers", or "The Big Country" would have been admissible. (I am vexed by the fact that I cannot instantly call up high-quality video recordings of these songs performed when first released, several decades ago. Where's my jetpack Logic named Joe?)

It's not clear to me what this sequence of best-responses is converging to, or if it is converging at all...

Hoisted from Comments: Delco Nightingale

Re: in the center ring we have Duncan Black with Delco Nightingale: Yes My Darling Daughter:

Brendan Skwire writes:

What Is My Best Response?: all I gotta say is "thanks for the link", we all appreciate it. we're on the road right now, poor as hell, sitting in a hotel room somewhere in california, and (speaking for me at least) missing being home in Philly.

cheers,

brendan skwire (aka brendancalling.com, aka, bass player for delco nightingale).

And:

Philly’s Delco Nightingale to perform at the Turner Classic Movies Film Festival in Hollywood | The Key: Delco Nightingale will be heading west to Los Angeles at the end of April to join classic film luminaries and fans alike, performing at the Turner Classic Movies Film Festival in Hollywood. From April 28th-May 1st...

What Is My Best Response?

Paul Krugman escalates to Chrissie Hynde:

after I had escalated to Arcade Fire: Mountains Beyond Mountains in response to his Arcade Fire: Haiti which was a response to my Grace Potter and the Nocturnals: Paris.

And, meanwhile, in the center ring we have Duncan Black with Delco Nightingale: Yes My Darling Daughter:

What is my game-theoretic best response?

Hey! Go out and buy some of these people's music, people! I want our modern music industry to flourish...

Mountains Beyond Mountains

Apropos of Paul Krugman: Arcade Fire: Haiti - NYTimes.com:

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals: Paris

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals: White Rabbit

I Am Not Sure Russell Arben Fox's Friends Will Still Be His Friends After This...

It is... interesting:

Russell Arben Fox: In Medias Res: Friday Morning Videos: "The Look of Love": Last year ago on this date (give or take a week), I put up ABC's "When Smokey Sings"--a great song, but the wrong video choice, according to a couple of my friends. So I'm trying to make it up to them today.

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals: Nothing But the Water

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals at the Boston Music Awards with "Nothing But the Water"

Matthew Yglesias: People Still Listen to Music

MY:

The Death of The Recordings-Sale Industry: People still listen to music. People still play music. People who play music even still earn money. But the business of selling recordings of music is shrinking. Which, of course, is exactly what ought to be happening to it. Distributing a digital copy of an album to a person’s computer is much cheaper than manufacturing and distributing a physical CD to a retail store. In a competitive market, the price of a widget ought to approximate the marginal cost of producing an additional widget. That’s one reason why this blog is free to read. Thanks to copyright, a recordings-seller does have some level of market power to allow him to seek monopoly rents. But there’s a pretty high degree of substitutability between different songs, so the competition is still pretty intense and the prices are low.

This is one reason why I would discourage bands from trying to underprice tickets at their own shows as a reward to fans. Since digital copies of recordings are non-rival and basically free to make, any non-zero sale price entails some deadweight loss. And since concert tickets are necessarily scarce, any sub-market price entails some deadweight loss. The optimal strategy for a popular band that wants to do something nice is market pricing for concert tickets, plus free recordings. Or even better, you could release your records into the public domain.

This Is a Better Version of "Mountains Beyond Mountains" than Duncan Black Has

Arcade Fire:

Ta-Nehisi Coates's Appreciation of Teena Marie

The Indomitable Blackness of Teena Marie

Low Tech Cyclist Goes Where Nobody Should Ever Go...

Cogitamus:

Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire...

Mark Evanier:

Mel Torme: ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED 7/9/99

I want to tell you a story...

The scene is Farmers Market — the famed tourist mecca of Los Angeles.  It's located but yards from the facility they call, "CBS Television City in Hollywood"...which, of course, is not in Hollywood but at least is very close. Farmers Market is a quaint collection of bungalow stores, produce stalls and little stands where one can buy darn near anything edible one wishes to devour.  You buy your pizza slice or sandwich or Chinese food or whatever at one of umpteen counters, then carry it on a tray to an open-air table for consumption. During the Summer or on weekends, the place is full of families and tourists and Japanese tour groups.  But this was a winter weekday, not long before Christmas, and the crowd was mostly older folks, dawdling over coffee and danish.  For most of them, it's a good place to get a donut or a taco, to sit and read the paper.

For me, it's a good place to get out of the house and grab something to eat.  I arrived, headed for my favorite barbecue stand and, en route, noticed that Mel Tormé was seated at one of the tables.

Mel Tormé.  My favorite singer.  Just sitting there, sipping a cup of coffee, munching on an English Muffin, reading The New York Times.  Mel Tormé. I had never met Mel Tormé.  Alas, I still haven't and now I never will.  He looked like he was engrossed in the paper that day so I didn't stop and say, "Excuse me, I just wanted to tell you how much I've enjoyed all your records."  I wish I had. Instead, I continued over to the BBQ place, got myself a chicken sandwich and settled down at a table to consume it.  I was about halfway through when four Christmas carolers strolled by, singing "Let It Snow," a cappella. They were young adults with strong, fine voices and they were all clad in splendid Victorian garb.  The Market had hired them (I assume) to stroll about and sing for the diners — a little touch of the holidays.

"Let It Snow" concluded not far from me to polite applause from all within earshot.  I waved the leader of the chorale over and directed his attention to Mr. Tormé, seated about twenty yards from me.

"That's Mel Tormé down there.  Do you know who he is?" The singer was about 25 so it didn't horrify me that he said, "No." I asked, "Do you know 'The Christmas Song?'" Again, a "No." I said, "That's the one that starts, 'Chestnuts roasting on an open fire...'" "Oh, yes," the caroler chirped.  "Is that what it's called?  'The Christmas Song?'" "That's the name," I explained.  "And that man wrote it."  The singer thanked me, returned to his group for a brief huddle...and then they strolled down towards Mel Tormé.  I ditched the rest of my sandwich and followed, a few steps behind.  As they reached their quarry, they began singing, "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire..." directly to him.

A big smile formed on Mel Tormé's face — and it wasn't the only one around.  Most of those sitting at nearby tables knew who he was and many seemed aware of the significance of singing that song to him.  For those who didn't, there was a sudden flurry of whispers: "That's Mel Tormé...he wrote that..." As the choir reached the last chorus or two of the song, Mel got to his feet and made a little gesture that meant, "Let me sing one chorus solo."  The carolers — all still apparently unaware they were in the presence of one of the world's great singers — looked a bit uncomfortable.  I'd bet at least a couple were thinking, "Oh, no...the little fat guy wants to sing." But they stopped and the little fat guy started to sing...and, of course, out came this beautiful, melodic, perfectly-on-pitch voice.  The look on the face of the singer I'd briefed was amazed at first...then properly impressed.

On Mr. Tormé's signal, they all joined in on the final lines: "Although it's been said, many times, many ways...Merry Christmas to you..."  Big smiles all around. And not just from them.  I looked and at all the tables surrounding the impromptu performance, I saw huge grins of delight...which segued, as the song ended, into a huge burst of applause.  The whole tune only lasted about two minutes but I doubt anyone who was there will ever forget it.

I have witnessed a number of thrilling "show business" moments — those incidents, far and few between, where all the little hairs on your epidermis snap to attention and tingle with joy.  Usually, these occur on a screen or stage.  I hadn't expected to experience one next to a falafel stand — but I did...

Living in the Sprawl

This Land Is Your Land

Woody Guthrie:

This land is your land, this land is my land
From California to the New York Island
From the Redwood Forest to the Gulf Stream waters
This land was made for you and me.

As I went walking that ribbon of highway
I saw above me that endless skyway
I saw below me that golden valley
This land was made for you and me.

I roamed and I rambled and I followed my footsteps
To the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts
While all around me a voice was sounding
This land was made for you and me.

There was a big high wall there that tried to stop me;
Sign was painted, it said private property;
But on the back side it didn't say nothing;
This land was made for you and me.

Nobody living can ever stop me,
As I go walking that freedom highway;
Nobody living can ever make me turn back
This land was made for you and me.

In the squares of the city, In the shadow of a steeple;
By the relief office, I'd seen my people.
As they stood there hungry, I stood there asking,
Is this land made for you and me?

When the sun came shining, and I was strolling
And the wheat fields waving and the dust clouds rolling
A voice was chanting, As the fog was lifting,
This land was made for you and me.

This land is your land, this land is my land
From California to the New York Island
From the Redwood Forest to the Gulf Stream waters
This land was made for you and me.

Xeni Jardin Is a Fan of the Insane Clown Posse

Xeni Jardin says:

Actually, know what? Insane Clown Posse "Miracles" video is pure awesome:

I Had Forgotten that "Carmen" Is Sung in French...

There is probably something interesting that has been written on "Carmen" as reflecting nineteenth-century Frenchmen's views of Spain...

Song of the Year: Gimme Shelter

YouTube - [720p] U2 ft. Mick Jagger, Fergie & Will.i.am - Gimme Shelter:

The Night They Raised America Up: The Invention of Memory and Tradition

"The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down" is not repeat not repeat NOT a reconstruction-era southern lament. "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down" is a song written in 1969 by a Canadian--never mind that Ralph J. Gleason (in the review in Rolling Stone (US edition only) of October 1969) wrote "the rhythmic structure, the voice of Levon and the bass line with the drum accents and then the heavy close harmony of Levon, Richard and Rick in the theme, make it seem impossible that this isn't some traditional material handed down from father to son straight from that winter of 1865 to today. It has that ring of truth and the whole aura of authenticity..."

Thus Robbie Robertson incites the ire of Ta-Nehisi Coates, who believes that we have very different memories of the Winter of '65, and don't need to invent Robertson's particular one:

Ta-Nehisi Coates: What you see above is the train of Rebels fleeing the city, as the Union troops enter from the other side. I was thinking about the Richmond yesterday, and The Band's "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down."... I'm told that it's a great song, and I don't so much doubt this, as I doubt my own magnanimity. I'm reminded of one of my father's favorite quotes, "The African's right to be wrong is sacred." Or Aaron McGruder's line, "I reserve the right to be a nigger." I can no more marvel at The Band then a Sioux can marvel at the cinematography of "The Died With Their Boots On." I wouldn't fault the man who could, but it's not me My empathy is a resource to be rationed like all others. My right to be wrong is sacred. My right to be a nigger is reserved. I started to play the song yesterday, and stopped myself. Again, I was angry. Again, another story about the blues of Pharaoh, and the people are invisible. The people are always invisible....

The expectation that someone else will tell your story for you, will write your ballads for you, will reconcile your history for you, is foolish and vain.... I'm no Robbie Robertson, but I do carry the words of my old, magical people:

I have just returned from the city of Richmond; my regiment was among the first that entered that city. I marched at the head of the column, and soon I found myself called upon by the officers and men of my regiment to make a speech, with which, of course, I readily complied. A vast multitude assembled on Broad Street, and I was aroused amid the shouts of ten thousand voices, and proclaimed for the first time in that city freedom to all mankind. After which the doors of all the slave pens were thrown open, and thousands came out shouting and praising God, and Father, or Master Abe, as they termed him. In this mighty consternation I became so overcome with tears that I could not stand up under the pressure of such fullness of joy in my own heart. I rested to gain strength, so I lost many important topics worthy of note.

Among the densely crowded concourse there were parents looking for children who had been sold south of this state in tribes, and husbands came for the same purpose; here and there one was singled out in the ranks, and an effort was made to approach the gallant and marching soldiers, who were too obedient to orders to break ranks.We continued our march as far as Camp Lee, at the extreme end of Broad Street, running westwards. In camp the multitude followed, and everybody could participate in shaking the friendly but hard hands of the poor slaves.

Among the many broken-hearted mothers looking for their children who had been sold to Georgia and elsewhere, was an aged woman, passing through the vast crowd of colored, inquiring for one by the name of Garland H. White, who had been sold from her when a small boy, and was bought by a lawyer named Robert Toombs, who lived in Georgia. Since the war has been going on she has seen Mr. Toombs in Richmond with troops from his state, and upon her asking him where his body-servant Garland was, he replied: "He ran off from me at Washington, and went to 'Canada. I have since learned that he is living somewhere in the State of Ohio." Some of the boys knowing that I lived in Ohio, soon found me and said, "Chaplain, here is a lady that wishes to see you." I quickly turned, following the soldier until coming to a group of colored ladies. I was questioned as follows:

"What is your name, sir?" "My name is Garland H. White." "What was your mother's name?" "Nancy." "Where was you born?" "In Hanover County, in this State." "Where was you sold from?" "From this city." "What was the name of the man who bought you?" "Robert Toombs." "Where did he live?" "In the State of Georgia." "Where did you leave him?" "At Washington." "Where did you go then?" "To Canada." "Where do you live now?" "In Ohio." "This is your mother, Garland, whom you are now talking to, who has spent twenty years of grief about her son."

I cannot express the joy I felt at this happy meeting of my mother and other friends. But suffice it to say that God is on the side of the righteous, and will in due time reward them. I have witnessed several such scenes among the other colored regiments.

Late in the afternoon, we were honored with his Excellency, the President of the United States, Lieutenant-General Grant, and other gentlemen of distinction. We made a grand parade through most of the principal streets of the city, beginning at Jeff Davis's mansion, and it appeared to me that all the colored people in the world had collected in that city for that purpose. I never saw so many colored people in all my life, women and children of all sizes running after Father, or Master Abraham, as they called him. To see the colored people, one would think they had all gone crazy. The excitement at this period was unabated, the tumbling of walls, the bursting of shells, could be heard in all directions, dead bodies being found, rebel prisoners being brought in, starving women and children begging for greenbacks and hard tack, constituted theorder of the day. The Fifth [Massachusetts] Cavalry; colored, were sfill dashing through the streets to protect and preserve the peace, and see that no one suffered violence, they having fought so often over the walls of Richmond, driving the enemy at every point.

Among the first to enter Richmond was the 28th U.S.C.T. better known as the First Indiana Colored Volunteers. . Some people do not seem to believe that the colored troops were the first that entered Richmond. Why, you need not feel at all timid in giving the truthfulness of my assertion to the four winds of the heavens, and let the angels re-echo it back to the earth, that the colored soldiers of the Army of the James were the first to enter the city of Richmond. I was with them, and am still with them, and am willing to stay with them until freedom is proclaimed throughout the world. Yes, we will follow this race of men in search of liberty through the whole Island of Cuba. All the boys are well, and send their love to all the kind ones at home."

Chaplain Garland H. White, 
28th USCI, Richmond, Virginia,
April 12, 1865; CR, April 22, 1865

White's letter can be found in the book A Grand Army Of Black Men (p. 175.) For the serious civil war nerd, this book, a massive collection of letters written by black soldiers during the War, is indispensable.

Then again, maybe Robbie Robertson is saying something else. Virgil Cain may say so, but we all know that the real killer of Cain's brother Abel wasn't no Yankee stranger from afar, was he?

K.T. Tunstall...

Rest in Peace...

---

And Jacqui Cheng:

Internet groans under weight of Michael Jackson traffic - Ars Technica: The passing of pop icon Michael Jackson affected numerous services across the Internet in major ways Thursday evening. As fans and onlookers tried to locate and pass on news, various sites were pushed to their limits, with Google describing the incident as "volcanic"...

When Deterrence Fails! "Wuthering Heights" Version

Rohan Maitzen writes:

Musical Versions: I was recently reminded of the Kate Bush song “Wuthering Heights.” I’ve learned, through the very scientific methods of chatting with friends and reading responses to posted videos on Facebook, that the song is haunting to some, unpleasantly whiny to others, and just plain weird to still others (actually, I expect all Kate Bush songs evoke at least this wide a range of responses). As it happens, I like “Wuthering Heights”...

and he posts a youtube version.

We must, in response, climb the ladder of esalation or lose all credibility when we make threats in the future. That would be intolerale.

So we escalate. If Rohan will post the white-dress version of "Wuthering Heights," we will in retaliation post:

The Puppini Sisters:

And Placebo:

There's No One as Irish as Barack Obama

Edith Piaf "La Vie en Rose" Blogging

Walter Jon Williams of Angel Stationreviewing the movie (with spoilers), and he links to:

• Marion Coutillard singing Non Je Ne Regrette Rien
• Edith Piaf singing Non Je Ne Regrette Rien
• Edith Piaf singing Hymne à l´Amour
• Edith Piaf singing La Vie en Rose

• Edith Piaf and Marion Cotillard side by side

• Trailer

Wedding Blogging

Patrick Nielsen Hayden informs us that Fred Clark and his S.O. are now Slacktivist and Slacktivixen, which is an honourable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocency... which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence, and first miracle that he wrought, in Cana of Galilee; and is commended of Saint Paul to be honourable among all men: and therefore is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly... like brute beasts that have no understanding; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God; duly considering the causes for which Matrimony was ordained... (i) for the procreation of children, to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and to the praise of his holy Name... (ii) for a remedy against sin... [for] such persons as have not the gift of continency might marry... [and] for the mutual society, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity...

Memory Errors...

This is bad. What I have thought for a long time--nigh on thirty years--was the theme from "The Magnificent Seven" is actually the theme from "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly."

OK. Now then: What is the theme from "The Magnificent Seven"?

Uhoh. This is very bad. I had thought that was the theme from "Bonanza."

So what is the theme from "Bonanza"?

I thought that was the theme from "Gunsmoke."

I dare not go any further...

A Song of Religious War, Abuse of Prisoners, Ethnic Cleansing, and Similar Light Topics

A little history lesson, about the 45:

Source: David Robertson Photography: http://www.dwrobertson-photography.com/gal_loch_arklet.asp

Andrew Lang : Poems of Andrew Lang : THE BONNIE BANKS O' LOCH LOMOND:

There's an ending o' the dance, and fair Morag's safe in France,
And the Clans they hae paid the lawing,
And the wuddy has her ain, and we twa are left alane,
Free o' Carlisle gaol in the dawing.

So ye'll tak the high road, and I'll tak the laigh road,
An' I'll be in Scotland before ye:
But me and my true love will never meet again,
By the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond.

For my love's heart brake in twa, when she kenned the Cause's fa',
And she sleeps where there's never nane shall waken,
Where the glen lies a' in wrack, wi' the houses toom and black,
And her father's ha's forsaken.

While there's heather on the hill shall my vengeance ne'er be still,
While a bush hides the glint o' a gun, lad;
Wi' the men o' Sergeant Mor shall I work to pay the score,
Till I wither on the wuddy in the sun, lad!

So ye'll tak the high road, and I'll tak the laigh road,
An' I'll be in Scotland before ye:
But me and my true love will never meet again,
By the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond.

Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings

In the New Yorker, Sasha Frere-Jones says that we should all patronize Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings.