(03.30.07) Recommends:

The Andrew Bird Triumvirate.

Part One was last Friday. Part Two was Monday. And today, the finale in the three part series, "Darkmatter." But just between you and me, I might link to more tracks from this album. Because I can't stop listening to it. I hope you've purchased it by now.

Andrew Bird - Darkmatter - mp3.
(mp3 via Vague Space)

Spring in Colorado?

The calendar says end of March, but mother nature in Colorado thinks we still need a little snow. Photo shot with K10D and 21mm "pancake" lens at ISO 200; f/8.0 with +0.5 exposure comp.

(03.28.07) Recommends:

Arcade Fire on Take Away Shows!

You've heard the hype that Arcade Fire is the most important indie-rock band of its generation. Perhaps you're not convinced. This video elegantly shows a band owning it. Yes, that's Richard Reed Perry, the band's Napoleon Dynamite-esque bass player ripping out pages of a magazine, creating a steady beat for the band. And yes, that's you, skeptical you, thinking "why yes, magazine pages as bassline, it makes perfect sense." This is a band that is so needed.

#41 - Arcade Fire - Neon Bible & Wake Up
Uploaded by lablogotheque

Here's more info about the Take Away Shows! series.

March 28, 2007 - Only Human

Today, another high-profile political figure has brought cancer into the headlines. Just days after Elizabeth Edwards' revelation, White House Press Secretary Tony Snow has revealed that his colon cancer has returned, and has spread to his liver and other parts of his abdomen. In 2005, he had surgery to remove his entire colon, then six months of chemotherapy. Now, he's facing unspecified further treatments and surgery.

Like Elizabeth, Tony's a fighter. "I'll be back," he's vowed. For now, Tony's assistant will be handling the press briefings, while he's at the proverbial undisclosed location, weighing his treatment options.

According to press reports, Tony's one of those unfortunate people who's on the losing end of the genetic lottery. His mother died of colon cancer when he was 17. This family medical history has made his doctors hyper-vigilant – they've sent him for scans every two to three months, in recent years. But these most recent tests have only alerted them to an outcome that was already genetically predetermined. While the doctors haven't used the word "incurable" in his case, they've made it clear that only a small percentage of patients with Tony's diagnosis and staging are ever cured.

One news article points out that the seeds of Tony's recent recurrence were probably already planted, even before his 2005 surgery. The malignant cells were already growing in his body. They were just too few in number to show up on the scans. That's one of the frustrating features of cancer: it only takes one strand of DNA with its cancer-switch in the "on" position, to start the disease's progression. By the time symptoms appear, malignant cells already number in the millions.

We imagine our bodies as static: that we have the same colon, or lungs, or liver as we had in our teens. Yet, the reality is, we are dynamic creatures. Our cells are constantly dying and being reborn, at a furious rate. Guided by their incredibly intricate DNA blueprints, our bodies are constantly reinventing themselves. From time to time, one of those reinvention experiments blows up in the laboratory – and that's cancer.

More than most Press Secretaries, Tony is a media figure in his own right. He was a Fox News commentator and talk-show host before the Bush Administration tapped him to be the President's media point man. He's one of those cool, calm, collected, always-in-control individuals. He carries himself well in his tailored suits, and responds to the pit bulls of the Washington press corps with dignity.

They say that, as Tony was being introduced to the press corps for the first time, someone noticed a yellow "Livestrong" bracelet from the Lance Armstrong Foundation, peeking out from under the cuff of his sleeve. When asked about it, he teared up a little. "That's because I had cancer last year," he replied.

Sadly, Tony's use of the past tense was premature. He didn't know it at the time, but he still had cancer as he uttered those words. The question for the future is whether his condition can be managed. I certainly hope so.

This story, and others like it, remind me I'm not alone. There are millions of us cancer survivors out there, and we feel a certain kinship with one another. We're only human. And, as human beings facing this disease, we need to stand together.

Live strong, Tony.

(03.27.07) Recommends:

Amy Cutler, Recent Works.



I first stumbled upon the brilliance of Amy Cutler in 2004, when she was a Visiting Artist and exhibiting at the Kemper. I've watched from afar as her career continued its upward trajectory, including inclusion in the 2004 Whitney Biennial, and publication of a book of her art:



I've even blogged about her in passing. And just today I stumbled upon a press release announcing her newest exhibition, Recent Works, showing at Leslie Tonkonow Artworks + Projects in NYC. Her work is like childhood fairy tales mixed with News of the Weird. It usually features women and animals and hybrid women-animals in whimsical settings. I'm not qualified to judge whether it is fanciful for fanciful's sake, or if it is making a comment on contemporary culture. I encourage you to search the links provided and come to your own conclusion. But regardless, I can't get enough of her work.

(03.26.07) Recommends:

More Andrew Bird.

I've been endlessly listening to two tracks in particular from Andrew Bird's newest record, Armchair Apocrypha. The first I mentioned on Friday. The other is Fiery Crash. This is such a great song.

Andrew Bird - Fiery Crash - mp3.

(mp3 via A.M. 180)

March 26, 2007 - Incurable Hope

I've been thinking about the recent news stories about John and Elizabeth Edwards: her cancer and his race for President. She's a breast cancer survivor, who's just learned that her cancer has come back. It's metastasized to the bones. For the first time, the doctors are calling it "incurable."

I feel for the two of them, standing before the TV cameras, the eyes of the nation upon them, and uttering that dread word. It brings to mind, in a small way, my own experience in standing up before the church I serve, and telling them of my own cancer diagnosis. It's such personal information, but, for people who hold positions of public prominence, it's not privileged information. It's got to be shared. I struggled mightily with the questions of when and how to share it. I'm sure they did, too. Finally, they just came right out and said it. What else could they do?

There's been much debate about the other decision the Edwardses have made: that John will stay in the Presidential race. Reactions from the chattering classes have run the gamut from "What courage!" to "What selfishness!" (This, despite the fact that Elizabeth stood right there beside her husband, and declared in no uncertain terms that she supports his decision 100%. She's no slouch, when it comes to speaking for herself.)

I think most of the negative reactions are based on misinformation. The word "incurable," as applied to cancer, doesn't mean what it used to. Not so many years ago, if a doctor told you your cancer was incurable, the next words were likely to be, "I'd advise you to get your affairs in order." These days, a great many incurable cancers can be effectively managed, for a very long time.

Most forms of diabetes are incurable, too – but no pundit would dream of suggesting that a candidate withdraw from a political race if his or her spouse received that diagnosis. "Cancer" is a word that continues to evoke all sorts of irrational fears. Maybe the Elizabeth Edwards story can provide a teaching moment for the general public, in that regard.

Sure, Elizabeth's further medical treatments, whatever they may end up being, will put added strain on her husband. The two of them give every indication of being a close and loving couple. How could cancer not have such an effect? This news is a reminder that politicians are people, too.

In this era of political handlers, image management and "spin," we seem to have forgotten that simple, down-to-earth truth. Lincoln fought depression. FDR used a wheelchair. Churchill was a little too fond of his whiskey. If there had been such people as image consultants when these men entered politics, would their names ever have made it onto a ballot?

In his column in today's New York Times, Bob Herbert writes, "John and Elizabeth Edwards are giving the country a world-class lesson in courage and candor." Indeed.

So, let's lay off John and Elizabeth Edwards. From where I sit, the "courage" label looks to be the best one to apply to them. They've determined, in light of this disheartening news, to keep on doing what they've been doing for some time: living with cancer.

More power to them.

March 20, 2007 - A Good Death

Today I receive an emergency call, to come to the critical-care unit of Jersey Shore University Medical Center. It’s Bill, one of the elders of our church. He’s dying.

Bill has been in “the Unit” for some weeks, being treated for complications of CLL, Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia. He’s been in and out of hospitals for the past couple of years, but this time it’s pneumonia, and it’s not going away. His leukemia has flared up, his immune system is depressed, and it’s hard for his body to fight off the invaders. On Saturday, they put him on a ventilator, but the downward spiral continued. Earlier today, the doctor told Bill and his family there’s nothing more that medical science can do for him. He had a grim choice: stay on the ventilator and live a little longer, or remove it and let nature take its course.

Bill, who’s quite conscious and lucid, made the decision himself (thus, sparing his family a hard choice). Taking a pad of paper, he wrote, “Let’s get started.” Soon after I get there and say a prayer with Bill and a dozen or so family members, all of us holding hands around his bed, the nurse asks us to step out into the hallway for a few moments, while she and a technician remove the tubes. We return a few moments later and begin the vigil.

I’ve been in hospital rooms with dying people numerous times, but I think this is the first time the patient has ever been completely lucid as the ventilator was removed. To me, this makes the moment all the more powerful. I feel in awe of this man, who’s able to face his own death with such calm determination. Will it be so for me, when my moment comes?

The nurse increases the morphine drip, then turns off the computer monitor displaying his vital signs. She’ll keep track of the numbers from her monitor out in the nurses’ station, but here in the room the screen is blackened, except for the word, “Privacy.”

Time stands still, as it often does in such situations. The morphine beckons Bill into a merciful sleep, as his life slowly ebbs away. There’s no single moment when we can all say to each other, “There, it’s over.” Death (at least, this kind of death) is more of a process than a single pinpoint in time. It’s not as it so often is in the movies, when a too-healthy-looking actor says something profound, then falls back into the pillows. Yet, there does come a time, after the breathing has stopped, when the family members raise their heads, look up at one another and confirm, with a glance and a sigh, “Yes, he’s gone.”

We say another prayer. Hugs. Tears. First discussions about funeral plans. This is a close and loving family. They hate to be here, but at the same time there’s no other place in the world where any of them would rather be. They’re here for him. Joy and sorrow intermingle, in a sadly beautiful way. I feel it, too, because Bill was my friend. Then, the family goes off to get some well-earned rest, and I drive over to the church to conduct the monthly meeting of the Session, our governing board. It’s another one of those abrupt transitions, that are part and parcel of this peculiar job. From death to Robert’s Rules of Order in less than one hour.

It’s a somber meeting. Not so many years ago, Bill was one of the elders actively serving on the Session, and sat at this very table. He was well-known and well-loved in our church. We go through our essential business, but there’s not much joy in it.

Cancer has claimed another victim. Bill was 73, but he could otherwise have expected to live much longer. He was in excellent physical shape, having run several New York City Marathons as a younger man. He loved his wife, Jean, his children and his grandchildren. He had a lot to live for.

But, it was not to be. “Death is a mystery,” says the Church of Scotland liturgy I often use at funerals. A mystery, indeed. We can only trust that someday, in some other place very far from this one, it will seem less so.

"Listen, I will tell you a mystery! We will not all die, but we will all be changed..." (1 Corinthians 15:51)

DA* 50-135mm Family Portraits

Here are some more test shots using the DA* 50-135mm lens with the K10D. All photos were shot in RAW mode at ISO 200 at f/5.6. Other than converting to JPEG with PhotoLab (SilkyPix), no post-processing was applied to any of the images.

(03.23.07) Recommends:

Andrew Bird, "Armchair Apocrypha" (Fat Possum, 2007).

2007 refuses to stop with the great new music releases. Today I've got to talk about Andrew Bird. Every time I see his name, I think Andrew W.K. Every time I see his face, I think Josh Groban. That might be two strikes against him, but try this on for size: He has a music performance degree from Northwestern. According to the internet, he has taught at the Old Town School of Folk Music. He played violin in muthafuckin' Squirrel Nut Zippers. He might be the greatest rock 'n roll whistler ever. And now we all have "Armchair Apocrypha" to deal with.

This album has great music and great lyrics and, like I said, great whistling.

Andrew Bird - Scythian Empires - mp3.
(mp3 via Music For Kids Who Can Read Good)

His homepage.
His myspace.

Bygone Era

With the widespread development of Los Cabos, land prices on the Sea of Cortez have skyrocketed. Condos, resorts and multi-million dollar homes are replacing what used to be an area typified by beach bungalows, cabanas and small, casual hotels right on the beach. One example of the Cabo lifestyle that will be no more is the RV campsite that sits right on the beach in the Costa Azul section of San Jose del Cabo. Started in the late 70's, the campsite was popular with folks who came down to Cabo for the winter months. Others decided to stay in Cabo and set-up their homes at the campsite. The property was recently sold, and the last campsite renters are tearing down their make-shift homes to make way for the construction of a new luxury resort.

Note: All photos shot with K10D and 50-135mm lens. Focal lengths vary from 75, 100, 115, 120 and 135mm. ISO: 200. Aperture: f/8.0. Lighting was partly diffused by large fog bank that came in off the Sea of Cortez.

(03.22.07) Recommends:

A return to the Sweet 16.

DA* 50-135mm Test Photos

While on vacation in Mexico, I've had a chance to test a pre-production "sample" of the new DA* 50-135mm lens. I've posted a few photos to give you a sense of how the lens is likely to perform when production samples become available. All images shot with with K10D in RAW mode at both ISO 200 and 400. Exposure mode was AV with EV compensation as needed. All photos posted here are uncropped and converted with SilkyPix using the "dayight" or "cloudy" setting.

(03.20.07) Recommends:

Obsessing over old music on New Music Tuesday.

So the torrent of good new music being released in 2007 continues today. There's LCD Soundsystem's new one, which garnered a 9.2 from Pitchfork. There's the new one from Modest Mouse, which the bloggers have been debating for the last month. There's Panda Bear, who's a part of Animal Collective, and who dropped "Person Pitch", which will end up as one of the Top Ten Albums of the Year. In addition, there's new stuff from Ted Leo, and doubtless other bands whom I'm forgetting -- or don't even know yet (get in touch with me and let me know about your new release!) -- as I type this.

However. However. All day I have been obsessing over Jolie Holland's "Catalpa," a lovely record that came out way back in the halcyon days of 2003. Holland was a founding member of The Be Good Tanyas -- a band I've blogged about here and here -- and she is in excellent form on this album. This is full of stripped down, sleepy, weepy, folk songs. No frills. Just a beautiful voice and a guitar. If you're feeling overwhelmed by all the new music about which you are expected to know and for which you are expected to have strong feelings, please feel free to serve yourself a cold glass of lemonade, put your feet up, and listen to some Jolie Holland:

Jolie Holland - All The Morning Birds - mp3.
Jolie Holland - December 1999 - mp3.
Jolie Holland - Ghost Waltz - mp3.

(03.19.07) Recommends:

Of Montreal, "The Past is a Grotesque Animal" from "Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer?" (Polyvinyl, 2007).

2007 has been a very strong year for new music releases. Nearing one-fourth of the way through the year, it seems like a good time to stop and reflect on all this goodness. Today, I put forth my front runner for Track of the Year. Of Montreal really puts it all together on this track. The song is a Dylanesque effort: a lyrical bender that clocks in at 11:53. And the lyrics on this thing are just fucking incredible. There are at least a half-dozen lyrics that are now in competition for Greatest Lyrics Ever. Including:

"I fell in love with the first cute girl that I met
Who could appreciate George Bataille
Standing at Swedish festival discussing the 'Story of the Eye'"

"Things could be different but they're not" (repeat)

"It's so embarrassing to need someone like I do you
How can I explain I need you here and not here too."

"But you know, no matter where we are
We're always touching by underground wires"

But none of those compare with the song's greatest line:

"But it's like we weren't made for this world
Though I wouldn't really want to meet someone who was"

And then there's the music. It's some kind of psyche-techno-synthe-disco-indie rock. It could equally track a great dream or a nightmare. I imagine it's the preferred party music for German scenesters and robots. In fact, it could be played at a German scenester/robot party that took place in the 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s, 00s, and neither the German scenesters nor the robots would be able to tell that the song was released in 2007. Timeless, is what I'm getting at.

Talking about this song does it no justice. Listen to it; you'll be mesmerized:

Of Montreal-The Past Is a Grotesque Animal

Cabo Surf Hotel

Since taking photos has always been such an integral part of my vacations, I thought I'd share a few snapshots of the great little hotel we're staying at in Mexico. The Cabo Surf Hotel is located on Playa Acapulquito (Costa Azul) just outside of San Jose del Cabo. It's a small hotel with about 24 rooms that is located right on one of the areas best surfing breaks.

The hotel has great food with a dining room that's perched right over the beach and offers spectacular views of the Sea of Cortez. You can see the city of San Jose del Cabo to your left and the very exclusive resort, Palmila, to your right. Except for kids of all ages that are taking surfing lessons, the 300 yard long beach is protected at both ends by cliffs, which are only passable at low tide. The ambience here is extremely relaxed and the hotel staff is very friendly and accomodating. The hotel has become very popular for small, destination wedding parties, and I've included two photos at the end of this post so you get a sense of how these weddings look. All photos, except the two wedding shots, taken with the K10D and the 21mm "pancake" lens. Exposure in AV mode with EV compensation as needed.

This is our third time staying at Cabo Surf Hotel, and I can highly recommend it to anyone wanting a small, private and relaxing vacation if you're planing to a trip to Cabo San Lucas.