WB's 'Hey 19 Rap' of the Week
Let's do the time warp again....
On iTunes there's a Walter Becker album shown Tangos Y Otros Pecados - is that by an Argentinian doppelganger?
Cool reportage, Garrison! (Schekkie?)
(and a solid lesson to those who think they can rewrite history by "deleting" things from websites; buddy that ain't never gonna make you clean!)
Hope those pics turn out, Garrison!
-Fishmouth (baited breath, etc)
Clicking on "Load More Replies" doesn't work for me. FYI
Hey Garrison (and others) I found your Japan piece in a web cache ad posted the first pp. But you [rpbably haven't seen it unless you've opened up those Load More Replies banners. Hey Matt-Mod, when did this appear? I think it replaced multiple pages..?
Seems the web host has instigated a new method
Load More Replies
which they seem to be using instead of creating more pages of replies? So at any given time, a section of posts disappear inside a "Load More Replies" section. Moral of the story: Click on "Load More Replies" to see all the posts in the thread
Zebalby: for me, it’s more like each full song is totally unique, not just the intro. That’s always been one of the things that’s attracted me most to their music. Each one stands so well on its own.
It's always struck me how unique each intro to each of the Steely Dan songs is, more so in a complete oeuvre than for any other group or solo musician. I wonder if anyone knows whether this was a conscious decision made by the two collaborators , or a fortunate happenstance? E.g I am aware of the tussle between being true to the original creative impulse and being sensitive to the call of the development of the piece towards its own full realisation? Any views or thoughts on this?
Hello, all. I'm always so happy to receive the Walter Becker Newsletter. The New Year's installment was especially wonderful, prompting me to write the group for the first time.
Before the November 2009 "Royal Scam" show in Washington, D.C., I said to Mr. Becker (May I call him Walter?), "I listen to 'Circus Money' every day." I did. More than nine years later, I sit and listen to that album and "11 Tracks of Whack," in their entirety, at least twice a month. Generally, music he wrote, performed, and/or produced is part of my everyday life.
The above is a sliver of my Walter Becker provenance, if you will. I share it not to boast or illustrate what an uber-fan I am; instead, I hope it will help express how much I adore his music, his mind, his insight, his use of language, and his wit. These are things I think about deeply and earnestly when I listen to his music or that can spontaneously appear in my mind throughout the day: His talent is a continual source of joy. To read the newsletters, hear the “new” music, see first-hand the existence of like-minded people, and know his memory has stalwart care
takers … these things are really, really good. As Matthew wrote above, Mr. Becker’s work “makes you want to both be more literate and to share your literary tastes and efforts with ‘those of my kind.’” Sometimes I'll think of him and realize I'm shaking my head, inspired by his talent and saddened by his death.
I’m all for hearing about people’s interactions with Mr. Becker. I’d also be interested in hearing about people’s reactions to his solo work. Anecdotes about touring, his life in Hawaii, song origins, his writing/recording processes. Memorabilia. Interviews with peers and friends. Photos, naturally, and their stories. Poetry (!) and prose. I’d also be keen on meet-ups or events that bring us together.
Last, I’d like to pose a question that’s been on my mind for years and years: Ever any discussions about “11TOW” and “Circus Money” being released on vinyl? That sure would be something, you bet.
That’s it. So much for brevity. I’ll close by restating that all this Walter Becker stuff is really, really good. Oh, and I think I might have found the roll of film with pictures from my interaction with Mr. Becker in the hours before the second night of the “Two Against Nature” tour at Kokusai International Forum Hall in Tokyo. I certainly hope so; we shall see.
Be well and carry the water,
sorry to be a pain D, (and probably a complete knobhead as well), but i can't access the caption competition, i have all the relevant readers etc. Is the competition closed or exclusive to north america?
It's really good to get a varied message like yours on New Year's Day 2019 - it's good to feel a part of a community. Your observations are so clever, knowing, newly-minted but on the right side of the good heart. Being in feels secret and cosy, and how we are a part of the hippest gang in the world. I am looking forward to seeing where this goes. Here is something I wrote recently, to start things off, hoping it's appropriate and welcome
My Father on Christmas Day 2018
My Father was in hospital on Christmas Day 2018
He'd been there for 11days, due to be discharged that day
But the pain in his back persisted, so they kept him there
It wasn't clear what the problem was, but he said it could be his kidney
I got there about 5pm, and he stared at me as at a stranger
Until he realised who I was, and said my name
He was in a bed by the window, high up over the ground
Looking across a wide expanse of sky and a town effusive with lights
We sat and talked for 3 hours but at one point it got so warm
That I dozed off, and he apologised to me as I started when he spoke
I kept watch outside while he shaved, he wanted me there in case he fell
He said the drug he was taking hollowed his bones
He had osteoporosis, and a fall would likely break his bones
He liked to be cleanshaven, he said, for when the Consultants came
As they were due to the next morning. He said they appeared like Angels
From Heaven, and I realised he wasn't being complimentary, but sarcastic
And I laughed which made him laugh. There were 3 other men in his ward
One of them talked about how when he died soon, he would be skin and bones
Another one was grouchy, and waiting to unleash his ire at Nurses
The third was stoical and patient, and lent his spoon to my Father
Advising him to wash it first, like Lear reeking of mortality
I mobile-connected my Father to two women he loved, and he enjoyed being courtly
Deriving real pleasure and joy from speaking to these two who
Treated him like a substantial man still, contrasting with the impotence and weakness
He was made to feel by others, the loss of his power, the loss of his utility
He told me about how in 1979 he had helped the mother of a young man dying of leukaemia
Go to the Consultant to ask him to help her son who was stranded at Bombay Airport
Waiting for a staff-discounted flight but had then started coughing blood
The son had gone back to India to say goodbye before he died
The family he had been travelling with had been given flights and he had to wait alone
The Oncologist had contacted the British Embassy who arranged for a priority flight back
A few days later, the son died in hospital on the day my Father returned from pilgrimage to Fatima
My Father is facing Death himself; he is terrified; he is angry; he abhors extinction
Extinction of self, his thoughts, experiences, feelings, his memories, everything
The idyllic childhood, the wedding and honeymoon, the birth of children, being the king of your self, making hygge
How cruel this way of being and living that we are all perforcedly time expiry-dated
With no option around that finality. It makes me abandon my bed for fear I will choke
Stop breathing; so powerless and borne down on, so unable to do anything to prevent it. T
here will come a time when I cannot see my Father, when I cannot speak to him, I will want to but I cannot He will not be there, extinguished, and the memory will falter and fade with time despite myself
And I cannot do anything, helpless again, as I was when newly-born and he took me in his arms
Smiling and compassionate, walking down that sunlit equatorial walkway to our flat at the end
Of the block at the end of a working day, handsome, young, with the future still before him
All those years ago, where did we all go, what became of all our promise and our best selves?
I asked him in which of the countries he had lived had he been happiest.
I expected him to say “Malaysia” or “India”. He said he had only been in India for 19 years of his life.
It was England where he was happiest, but he gave as the reason the availability of free healthcare
And I wondered if he was allowing his present circumstances to overwhelm his accurate assessment
He said that my Mother could only have gotten the healthcare she needed here in England
And I could see that he did love my Mother, despite the loss of the woman he knew to Dementia
And his weakness and powerlessness to help her because of his own advanced age
I'd told him that she had insisted on coming to see him but we had firmly declined; he said “Well Done”
I could see that he worried how she would cope and continue after him, alone after all the years
Then my Father pole-vaulted the usual; gave me an image I would never have known, something new and wondrous
In microcosm the rerun fable of giving me life, that opportunity to learn and experience
He told me that these days high above the ground in his hospital ward he awoke at dawn for medication Early dawn, the moon still there, (there before him, there after him), he would look out his high-rise window
And as the sun intimated a luminous pale orange, he would see queuing in the sky after the night-time curfew
Tens of planes from all over the world heading towards Heathrow. “They come from all over the world” He said with real wonder in his voice, that boy he used to be still there after all this time, at 91
All the things he had seen and felt, awaiting extinction but still humanly noble in a wearied way.
As I left, we shook hands formally, and neither knows whether for the last time on this Earth
But both know that something of moment passed between two generations, however unworthy the particular representatives
Happy New Year 2019! That last newsletter was such a nice read, and a sad one. Your feelings are translated to this guy, me, somewhere in the Netherlands, and not liking Newe Herring *grin*.
(sorry for my not so okidoki English, double Dutch)
My ideas for 2019 are again, same like last 35 years more or less (I'm 50 now): learning to make good music. Improve as a guitarplayer, making a nice blend between jazz, blues and some raw biting rock (I don't want too much saturation, just a little edge).
So I am open to any story behind the music. I am sure there are so many of these studio stories laying around waiting to be heard. And I would love to read about the psychological stuff going on when playing and making music. Music is hard work. Music is making mistakes, hating yourself for not improving, comparing yourself to others. I got hurt a lot over the years a lot, but I never gave up making music. Won't never do that. And I must admit that I love the level of playing I got myself into. Would never have thought I was capable of this.
Short answer: I want to learn from Walter. And others.
Have a good year everyone! And thanks to the internet that got us all connected!
Walter Becker Media Forum