On Newtown and Guns

“The death of one man is a tragedy, the death of millions is a statistic” – Joseph Stalin (1879-1953), attributed.

I do not own guns.

My family has, both as sportsmen and to literally put food on the table during the Great Depression. It’s a sign of the diversity inherent in our country and in the people I’ve met throughout my 50 years that my Facebook feed following the Newtown tragedy was almost equally split between friends calling for gun control and, either peremptorily or in reaction to said calls, a staunch defense of the Second Amendment. One friend asked explicitly, “. . . tell me why anyone that isn’t a hunter needs the arms found (at Sandy Hook Elementary)?”

This is a reasonable question from the point of view of someone for whom the police and military have always been the good guys, the First Responders, the ones who ‘Protect and Serve’.  They can’t imagine why someone would need an assault rifle when there is a cadre of law enforcement and military personnel there to protect them. Why wouldn’t we register, limit, even ban some weapons if it would prevent tragedies like Sandy Hook?

And it probably would.

Despite the rallying cries of “Guns don’t kill people, people kill people”, guns are deadly. In what looked like a macabre controlled experiment, 23 children and one adult were stabbed in a knife attack in a primary school in the Henan province of China on the same day as the Sandy Hook attack. None of them died.

But to tie back to the opening quote, the point of the Second Amendment is not to prevent tragedies, it is to prevent statistics.

Stalin knew a thing or two about creating statistics. Estimates vary, but experts think Stalin was responsible for the deaths of 4 to 10 million of his own citizens. The accepted estimate of the number of Jews slaughtered in the Nazi Holocaust is 6 million, this after the passage of the Regulations Against Jews’ Possession of Weapons effectively disarmed the Jewish community in Germany. Untold millions of these victims were children as well, far too numerous to post each one’s name on a pair of photo-shopped angel wings to be shared on Facebook had the technology existed.

We, in twenty-first century America, find it difficult to imagine our police or our military knocking down our doors, rounding up our neighbors, attacking their own citizens, but the framers of our Constitution did not. They lived through it. And they provided, as a fundamental right, a means for their citizens to fight back against it and to ‘throw off such government, and to provide new Guards for their future security’ via the Second Amendment and the right to bear arms.

You can argue that this right to self-defense is only nominal – that any armed resistance would be crushed swiftly and through overwhelming force. You can argue the Second Amendment is an anachronism, a relic from an age where one had to hunt down his own meals and defend himself on the frontier. You can argue the cost of innocent lives like those at Sandy Hook Elementary is not worth the benefits the Constitution affords us.

But please, let’s make these arguments in the proper forum. No half-way registration laws. No incremental laws restricting certain classes of weapons now and others later. No city-specific bans in violation of the Constitution.

If we must disarm ourselves, the only proper forum is a Constitutional amendment. Nothing else will suffice. If this issue has reached a true crisis point (and not simply a parade for posturing politicians to jump in front of), both sides owe it to our citizens to use the mechanism afforded us by the very instrument we purport to uphold. Do not pass reactive laws. Amend the Constitution if you must.

Steve Forbert - Dec. 6, 2012

Steve Forbert pulled into the Old Rock House last Thursday night as part of their Listening Room Series. If you remember Steve Forbert at all, it’s for his almost top-ten hit ‘Romeo’s Tune’, a poppy gem from 1980, or perhaps his cameo as label-mate Cyndi Lauper’s bewildered date that shows up at the end of the ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ video.

Much more than a one-hit wonder, Forbert has a catalog of tunes, especially his first run with Nemperor in the late-70s/early-80s and his first ‘come back’ – two solid albums for Geffen in the late 80s/early 90s – that has placed him in my personal Top Ten of singer/song writers and ranks him as one of the most under-rated purveyors of that breed. Forbert was the last of the media-dubbed ‘New Dylans’, earning himself a shout-out in Loudon Wainwright III’s ‘Talking New Bob Dylan’. I try to catch him (failing more than I’ve succeeded) whenever he’s in town. Paul joined me for this particular evening. I had a spare ticket and thought I’d keep it in the singer/songwriter guild. I think he left as a new Steve Forbert fan.

After a few awkward minutes on stage for a final check of sound and placement of harmonicas (no green room/no harp techs here), Forbert kicked off into ‘Thinking’ from his debut effort of nearly 35 years ago. An effortless, if unflashy, acoustic guitarist and full-on folkie harmonica player, Forbert mixed early with new with a few covers (especially fellow Mississippian Jimmie Rodgers), taking requests for one three song set (hint to live performers: have the audience shout out a lot of requests and pick the three you were going to play anyhow).

That yielded The Oil Song.

Written in 1977, the full version now tops a dozen verses of which Forbert played four – all about spills that have happened since the song was originally put to vinyl. On top of new verses to old songs, the new material played off his last album, “Over With You”, and last-decade live staples like “Autumn This Year” shows the man to still have a potent pen.

Despite sounding great with a full ensemble (his 25^th anniversary DVD features Springfield’s own The Morells/Skeletons as his backing band), Forbert’s stated preference (and probably financial necessity) is to travel solo. Not so much a warning as a template for rock-n-rollers who, like all, must age, gracefully or not, (and I really don’t want this blog to end up as ‘aged rock stars as metaphor for life’ despite the Chuck Berry review), Forbert seems comfortable with where he’s ended up. (Hell, even the ‘Old Dylan’ is not the old Dylan anymore). But then again he saw it coming in the 80s as he explained when he sang ‘I Blinked Once’:

The 70s was ten long years

Ten long years to sing a song

It kicked off with a New Years’ cheer

I blinked once and it was gone

He finished his ‘non-encore’ set (again, the lack of a backstage makes for an awkward transition from show to encore at the Old Rock House) with ‘Romeo’s Tune’ and closed the night with the rocker that closed his first album “Alive on Arrival” – a message for everyone hoping to follow their dream as Forbert has followed his – ‘You Cannot Win If You Do Not Play’.

Chuck Berry - Nov. 14, 2012

I have more crap than I need; so for my 50th birthday I asked for (and got) experiences, including tickets to the monthly Chuck Berry concert at the Duck Room at Blueberry Hill here in St. Louis. Though my friend Dan tells me otherwise, I had not seen him before and, as he is 86, figured I'd better before he (or I, being an actuary and an old one now, I am well aware of joint survivorship issues) dies.

Between big name shows, gigs I've played, friend's shows, recitals etc., I've been to thousands of concerts in my life.

This was unique.

Chuck hit the stage a little before 10:00 after a competent but uninspiring opening act with a six-piece band that included son, Charles Jr. on guitar, and daughter Ingrid on harp (and a mean harp player she is too) and vocals. As Chuck wound up his Gibson ES-335, I immediately noticed something was wrong. There's no nice way to put this:

Chuck Berry, c. 2012, is bad.

And that's OK. (If you want a more generous review, see this month's Rolling Stone for his show in Cleveland). The voice is still there and his timing is impeccable, but, whether it is age or deafness, Chuck would often be a half-step off on guitar and not notice it (or worse, start tuning the guitar when he did). Occasionally those 86-year old fingers that taught generations of guitarists how to play rock 'n' roll would simply refuse to behave and earn a sad look from the Father of Rock 'n' Roll.

Every now and then though, it would all come together. Leaning against a pole at the corner of the stage, Berry ripped into "Around and Around" and a window into 1959 opened up for an entire verse, only to close again as he drifted up the neck.

His kids watched him like a hawk, gently guiding him when he got lost in the lyrics or the arrangement and always treating him with love and dignity. But make no mistake: he was Dad and, more importantly, he was Chuck Berry.

The crowd loved him.

Genuinely. They were on their feet after every song and despite the flaws, were having a great time seeing the legend. You can see what made the man a star beyond his voice and guitar chops. In his mid-80's he still has the stage presence and charisma of his youth, even managing about four steps of a duck-walk, not so low to the ground anymore, across one corner of the stage.

I don't think what I saw from the audience was self-delusion or pity. I think it was grace. Grace from an audience, some of whom are losing a step or two themselves, for a man who is being himself right up to the end and putting it out there for all to see. To paraphrase: growing old and playing guitar on stage is not for sissies.

Because, despite the fact that he has a criminal and civil record that would put many modern rappers to shame, we love Chuck Berry. We love him for being from St. Louis. We love him for bringing rock 'n' roll to white kids. We love him for a catalog of great American music. We love him for being a cranky SOB that wants to do thing his way without coming off as a spoiled prima donna. That I am hesitant about writing this review for fear that it might come to his attention and hurt his feelings should say something about the respect we as fans and musicians have for the man.

As you leave the Duck Room, next to the stairs is a black-and-white picture of Berry in his duck-walking prime.

Chuck, if you do read this, I want you to know that that's the man everyone saw on stage Wednesday night.

Rock of Ages

Ever wonder what happened to that little hottie from Steely Dan's "Hey Nineteen" that had no idea who Aretha Franklin was? Well she's 51 now. (For the record, I was 18 in 1980 and, thanks to the "Blues Brothers", damn well knew who she was.)

Other name-checked song subjects haven't fared much better:

Stevie Nicks's protagonist is on "The Edge of 48" (1981)

Kiss's "Christine Sixteen" is sharing her 51st birthday with Steely Dan's chanteuse (1977)

Alice Cooper probably sounds even more confused and conflicted singing "I'm 60" (1970)

Chuck Berry (who I hope to see next Wednesday - hang in there Chuck!) is now paying homage to "Sweet Little 70". (1958)

. . . and top of the heap, Jimmy Buffett's Pirate is now looking at 78. (1974)

It could be worse. The man who sang "When I'm 64" hit that milestone six years ago, but sadly two of his band-mates didn't make it past 40 and 58 respectively.

Why Your Vote Doesn't Count

There's been a lot of talk lately about who's vote does and does not matter - a good deal of which has been aimed at supporters of third party candidates. Well I've got news for you:

None of your votes matter.

I'm confining my argument to the Presidential election though, to a lesser extent, the math works for other races if not the electoral hang-ups.

First of all, thanks to the Constitution and the Electoral College, technically none of our votes for president count. We're not even allowed to vote for President. This is probably old news to most of you and I'll address the practical rather than technical impediments in a minute.

This cumbersome process stems from the fact that our nation is not a democracy, it is a republic. The Constitution itself came into being only via the ratification of independent states and, until 1913, state legislatures, not citizens, elected senators. The states' legislatures themselves have sole discretion as to how the electors are chosen though, as a practical matter, with two exceptions all states pledge all of their electors to the candidate receiving the most popular votes in their state. The two exceptions are Maine & Nebraska who, in essence, allow each Congressional district to select an elector with the most popular candidate receiving the two at-large 'Senate' electors.

The upshot of this is that if you live in a state that is safely Democrat or Republican, your vote doesn't count - your electors are already chosen.

We'll get back to the swing states in a minute, but let me make the point that, despite the value of your vote before the election, if you are on the losing end after the election, your vote obviously didn't count. There's only one President at a time. For Congressmen, we are a winner-takes-all electoral system so if your gal lost, you are not represented. Sorry Charlie.

Oh yes, I hear it all the time. "If you didn't vote, you can't complain." Try to stop me. And how about something a little meatier than stopping into your local school before work as your legitimate ticket to political debate? How about a little research and thinking for yourself before opening your pie hole? But I digress.

So let's say you live in a swing state and your electors are up for grabs. What are the odds your vote counts? To count - really, really count in a practical matter, not just symbolically, you have to cast the tie-breaker. In the 2008 Presidential election, not counting write-ins, Ohio, THE swing state this year, counted 5,721,468 votes.

What are the odds it would split down the middle? Technically (5721468 C 2860734) / (2^5721468) or, using a Normal approximation, roughly 1 in 3,000, a little better than the odds of dying on a bicycle, but not much. The other 2,999 times you've wasted your vote (and your time).

Oh! But what about Bush v. Gore? OK, if you lived in Florida and if you were one of the roughly 300 voters, you might have counted once the lawsuits were done, but those are fairly long odds and, neither candidate got the majority of the popular vote.

Which is my long way around to rebut the notion that a third party vote is a wasted vote.

In a country with a parliamentary form of government, minor parties have the power to deny formation of coalitions. Here in the US, one of the few means of inserting minority ideas into a ruling party is the threat of a credible third party drawing votes away. Had the Nader votes gone to the Democrats in Florida, Al Gore would have been President, but neither party served to satisfy Nader's constituency.

The most effective example of a third party influencing major party positions is probably the 1928 Socialist Party platform which was eventually adopted in large part through the New Deal and The Great Society, despite the party's presidential candidates topping out at around 6% of the popular vote.

Secondly, third-party votes count for more than elections. In Missouri for example, if a party achieves a 2% threshold, they are guaranteed ballot access for the next election, eliminating the costly and time-consuming process of gathering petition signatures. In addition, The Commission on Presidential Debates, an organization run by the Republican & Democratic parties, requires an expectation via polling that a candidate garner 15% of the popular vote to have their views heard in the televised Presidential debates. So in effect, a third-party vote may be more effective than jumping on the band-wagon and just cheering on the major party candidates.

Despite my libertarian leanings, I vote for the candidate, not the party. I view the parties as fall-back positions, not starting points. If you choose to vote, vote your beliefs and conscience. Your vote will be no more wasted than anyone else's.

Saved

About a year ago, following the example of my friend Gordy and upgrading my subscription to Spotify, I started picking artists with the intent of listening to their entire catalog. My two guidelines were:

1. I didn't have any of their albums
2. I really should have

For the record, there are some surprising artists I do not have in my record collection - The Rolling Stones for example (though I used to have an 8-track of Love You Live), mainly because I live in St. Louis and just have to turn on the radio to get all the Stones I want and then some. Plus the wife owns "40 Licks".

So far I've been through:

• David Bowie - missed mostly because I was growing up in Iowa when he was good and loathed "Let's Dance"
• Loudon Wainwright III
• Steve Earle - He'd hit the scene when I went through a 'I'm going to produce more music than I consume phase" and didn't produce much or consume that much beyond Richard Thompson & Jonathan Richman
• Velvet Underground

. . . and now Dylan in a year when his recorded output and I both turn 50.

Technically, I forgot I owned "Before the Flood", but to me that was always a Band album. The biggest surprise? Despite the mass of impersonators (not musically, but rather mocking the vocals) and that weird foray into fake country croon around "Nashville Skyline", his voice holds up (so far) and I'm not tired of it yet (looking at you Wainwright).

I'm up to 1980 and album 20 out of 35. I've covered the classic ("Blood on the Tracks"), the god-awful ("Bob Dylan at Budokan"), and the surprising how-did-I-miss-this in 35 years? ("New Morning").

"Saved" is the second of Dylan's Born-Again trilogy and, despite getting tepid reviews, I think it holds up as a sincere, well-made body of songs (the only cover, "Satisfied Mind", is run through the re-mixer).

I remember what a big deal "Slow Train Coming" was (back when I subscribed to Rolling Stone and it covered music instead of fashion). Produced by Mark Knofpler in the midst of Dire Straits' pomp, it surprised many with its turn to Jesus.

But "Saved" is exactly what it seems, a master song-writer turning his attention to a subject matter covered by many and shining with songs as strong as any in his career. It didn't rate well with critics at the time, but I found it a very pleasant surprise.

What the World Needs Now . . .

. . . is another damn blog and Oh! how I need another todo, but some things don't fit elsewhere so here we go.

You'll get a sample of what's on my mind, from snarky snippet to actual essays, book reviews, music reviews, shares of other's writing and, hopefully in time, guest content.

You will not get finance/economics opinions or Watford FC updates (I have other blogs for that).

Both my parents have passed on and I have no small children so the language will be adult as will a good deal of the topics (though really, how adult is it for a 50-year old man to be reviewing 40-year old Bob Dylan albums?).

There you have it. Stay tuned.