Yamba Surf Club (founded 1908) damaged by fire, 8 February 2011.
And here is a web-cam for Yamba beach:
Yamba web-cam
Author Archive for peter
Page 48 of 85
Honeywell International Inter-varsity Debating Festival 1978
On 17 July 1978, the ABC TV current affairs programme, Monday Conference, held a Parliamentary Debate at Sydney University with participants from the Honeywell International Inter-varsity Debating Festival, then being held in Sydney: universities represented included Auckland, Cambridge, Canterbury (NZ), Columbia, Glasgow, Harvard, Nairobi, Oregon, Oxford and eight Australian universities. Particularly memorable performances were given by Nicholas O’Shaughnessy (age 26) from Oxford and David Pash (age 19) from Harvard. Pash, speaking of O’Shaughnessy’s speeches, remarked:
They fall into three categories: the witty, the stirring, and the vast majority.”
Pash also said:
Where there’s smoke there’s fire. Or, in Latin, Nil combustio sic profumo.“
Pash is now an attorney in LA, and O’Shaughnessy Professor of Communication at Queen Mary, University of London. Ewan Sutherland, a participant from Glasgow and now a telecommunications consultant, has a short report of the Debating Festival here.
Following the Festival, the student newspaper of the Australian National University (ANU), Canberra, Woroni, reported on a visit to ANU by the Oxford University Union Debating Team (issue of 1 August 1978). This report (with obvious typing errors corrected, one ellipsis added, and one misplaced line – shown by [ ] – re-inserted appropriately) is here:
Complete with jokes generously supplied by the FitWilliam [sic] Museum of Antiquities in Cambridge, the Oxford University Union Debating Team visited Canberra for four days at the beginning of second semester. The team was in Australia along with teams from Cambridge, Glasgow, Harvard, Columbia, Oregon, Auckland, Canterbury and several Australian universities including ANU for the first Honeywell International Inter-varsity Debating Festival in Sydney.
Despite the fact that all four members of the team are part of Margaret Thatcher’s shock troops (she was described by one of them as Attila the Hen), they were almost human. Nicholas O’Shaughnessy wants to be Viceroy of India and developed an accent to match. John Harrison . . . found solace in the company of Greg Carman. Marie-Louise Rossi replaced at 4 hours notice a past president of the Oxford Union, Vivienne Dinham. Mark Sterling, in between drams, managed to defeat the cream sherry of ANU Law School mooting talent, Tom Faunce and Lee Aitken.
There were two debates in Canberra. The first, on 19th July, was against ANU, ably represented by Andrew Byrnes, Steve Bartos and Vivienne Bath. The subject was ‘That Only God can Save the Queen‘, which Oxford negated. By any standards it was a good piece of comedy, though not perhaps describable as a debate. Oxford were rather the worse for wear, having staggered off a plane from North Queensland just 1.5 hours before the debate began.
On 20th July there was a highly successful debate in the Albert Hall against a team from parliament. It proved very difficult to get any MPs at all. Most of the ALP were overseas on their compulsory annual junkets. Many Liberals were [ ] discreetly elsewhere on the date of the debate. No member of the National Party could be found who could string more than about three words together before collapsing in exhaustion. In the end we found Michael Baume, Jim Carlton and Michael Hodgman, who turned on a very entertaining performance. They admirably proved that talent is in inverse proportion to one’s chances of becoming a minister.
On July 21 the Law School staged a moot and lost. Oxford left for Melbourne on July 22, having only managed [to see Canberra in the wet. Every time] that a trip was planned, the heavens opened.
On a marginally more serious note, the success of the Oxford visit has prompted the Union to try and re-establish Union Night Debates on a regular weekly basis. These debates are an established and popular feature of many English and Australian universities, and were common here until a few years ago. If anyone wants to help on the Union Debates Committee, go and talk to someone in the Union Office.
The article was accompanied by a photo of the 19 July debate participants, showing seated (left-to-right) under a portrait of the Queen and a British and an Australian flag: John Harrison, Marie-Louise Rossi (1956-2014), Nicholas O’Shaughnessy, Greg Carman (MC), Vivienne Bath, Steven Bartos and Andrew Byrnes. I attended the debate on 19 July 1978.
Breakfast with Rhythmica
Earlier today I caught a rainy, late morning gig by Rhythmica as part of the Southport Jazz on a Winter’s Weekend Festival. The quintet comprises Mark Crown on trumpet, Peter Edwards piano, Peter Randall double bass, Andy Chapman drums, and Zem Audu on sax. Audu was absent today, his place taken by Binker Golding on tenor sax. There were perhaps 150 people in the audience, with only a handful looking younger than 50. Maybe everyone younger was still asleep.
What a way to wake up! From the first three bars of the first number – Time Machine – you knew these guys were serious – they were people to be reckoned with. The piece was in 11/4 (or perhaps one bar in 3 beats to every two bars in 4), and they were extremely together! Piano and bass were in close unison for an ostinato bass line, trumpet and tenor sax together in similar unison for the melody. And everyone – all 5 – in very tight formation. The close co-ordination was evident throughout the morning, with the players grouping mostly as for Time Machine.
The use of trumpet and sax together, sometimes in unison, sometimes playing seconds and thirds (especially at the ends of unison phrases), with the piano riffing between phrases, as if commenting from the sidelines on the melody, is a feature of Wynton Marsalis’ compositions, and before him, of Wayne Shorter and others in the early 60s. This produces what I find is a very attractive sound, and Rhythmica did it very well. Anthem was in this vein. Sometimes also the bass and drums would double (as in Mr JJ), and just once we also heard trumpet, sax and piano play unison/thirds choruses together, in the aptly named Triple Threat. And for the final chorus of Solace, Crown’s trumpet played long-held falling fifths underneath everyone else’s bop gyrations; these were just sublime.
In a lineup of excellent performers, the standout for me was bass player Peter Randall – he was fast, agile, and with lots of interesting walking lines – and using all five fingers to stop strings in the high registers. But we only heard him solo once (in Parallel) – it would be good to hear more of him.
As best I recall, the order of songs was as follows:
Set 1:
- Time Machine (written by Audu)
- Anthem (Edwards)
- Delfeayo’s Dilemma (Wynton Marsalis)
- Turner’s Dream (Crown)
- Mr JJ (Jeff “Tain” Watts)
Set 2:
- Triple Threat – The Bridge (Edwards)
- Parallel (Joe Harriott)
- Solace (Edwards)
- The Sorcerer (Herbie Hancock)
- Blind Man Stomp (Golding).
The last number was a great New Orleans stomp written by Binker Golding, which the crowd loved – perhaps showing their real preference would have been for something more traditional. Myself, I was happier with what came before. Counting 11 to the bar certainly woke me up PDQ!
UPDATE (2011-02-06): I have now listened to their debut CD. Confirms my view that these guys are not people you’d want to mess with. They have some serious intent and the strong musical skills to achieve it. This is great music.
UPDATE #2 (2011-02-08): The band’s next outing is in a bookshop! First, pre-dawn Saturday morning gigs, then playing in libraries! What next? An appearance on The Archers? Or music to accompany a TV cooking program?
Recent Listening 5: Hungarian Modern Jazz
A quick mention of various Hungarian jazz CDs that I’ve been listening to this week, some of the music cool and some hot. I have heard several of these performers live, and hope to do so again: pianist Szabo Daniel (whose hands are shown above), double bassist Olah Zoltan (playing on both the Toth Viktor and the Budapest Jazz Orchestra CDs), and the superb Trio Midnight.
Szabo Daniel [1998]: At the Moment. Hungary: Magneoton/Germany: Warner Music.
Trio Midnight [1999]: On Track. Featuring Lee Konitz. Budapest, Hungary: Well CD 2000.
Toth Viktor Trio [2000]: Toth Viktor Trio. Budapest, Hungary.
Budapest Jazz Orchestra [2000]: Budapest Jazz Orchestra. Budapest, Hungary. Recorded at Aquarium Studio.
Note: Entries in this series here.
Bam's rhetoric
Posting about one of Bam’s 2008 campaign speeches reminded me of the analysis undertaken by The Guardian’s arts correspondent, Charlotte Higgins, on the Roman and Greek rhetorical devices in his major speeches. Relatedly, textual analyses of Bam’s 2008 Presidential election victory speech can be found here and here.
Red River
One of my favourite films is Howard Hawks’ Red River (1948), which pitted John Wayne against Montgomery Clift. I came across an insightful review of the movie by Roderick Heath, here. The one aspect of the movie not mentioned in that review is the context in which the movie was made, immediately after World War II. At the time, the allies had large military forces being demobilized, with men – they were mostly men – returning with all deliberate speed to civilian life. Many of these men had played responsible and important roles in the war effort, roles requiring intelligence, personal initiative, courage, and the leadership of others. They returned to Civvy Street to find senior management posts occupied by the generation before them, and only subordinate roles available for themselves; they were often immensely frustrated. I once heard of a businessman’s club memorial dedicated To the Men Whose Sons had Given Their Lives in World War II, which sums up for me the self-regard of the elder of these two generations.
With this context in mind, I see Red River as a parable about the struggle between the two generations for the control of business and society in the post-war world. Clift’s caring and listening leadership style resonated much more with returning military men than Wayne’s deaf and inflexible approach, as it does also in the film with Wayne’s cattle drovers. In Japan and Germany, of course, the generation before had made a mess of things, and so there were greater opportunities in the post-war period for the next generation to take immediate charge.
Last Tango in Braidwood
Here is a review of a concert of student compositions, held at the then Canberra School of Music, on 31 October 1978, which I wrote at the time.
It is interesting that the student composer of one of the least impressive works played at that concert should end up as a professional composer (Knehans), while that of the most impressive, it seems, did not (McGuiness). But the style of McGuiness’ piece was closer to what we now call downtown, and I have never been much impressed with uptown contemporary music, despite its hold on the academy and the new music establishment. My sympathies for downtown and antipathy to uptown music has as much to do with the various aspirations of these styles as with how the resulting music sounds.
Ian Davies: Last Tango in Braidwood or I Might be Wrong. Very good – at times impressionistic, at other times expressionistic. Owes a lot to Sculthorpe (before his turn to late romanticism). Good stereo effects. Held together well, except for the ending. The last 15% of the piece would be better deleted and replaced by something much shorter, and more unified with the first 85%.
Alexandra Campbell: Harmonic Music. More harmonic than Davies’ piece, but not at all traditional. The piece seemed to lack any unifying idea, and just seemed a series of random statements, the phrases disconnected and unrelated. A pity, because some of the individual phrases were nice-sounding. Showed clear understanding of instrumental possibilities, especially the winds – perhaps fittingly for a composer who plays the oboe.
Richard Webb: Cube. If the previous piece was incoherent, this was completely incomprehensible. Like listening to someone speaking in an unknown foreign language, not even the individual phrases made sense. The piece was just a cacophony of effects, overloud and overlong.
Richard Webb: Maya. A tape realization, this was also overloud and overlong. Not gebrauchsmusik, but boretheaudiencemusik. Listening to electronic special effects in 1978 brings to mind only Star Wars and science fiction novels, so perhaps these effects can’t be used any longer. The audience began to talk about 3/4 of the way through, so my boredom was not unique.
Andrew McGuiness: Simple Music (for Simple People). This was superb! Fantastic! The ensemble stood in darkness and played according to graphic instructions written on paper affixed to the wall, each page of instructions illuminated by a lady (Alex Campbell) holding a torch, as it was being played. Sitting in the dark with just the torch light, it felt like we were watching a sunrise. And the music mirrored this feeling perfectly, though it was not programmatic or symbolic at all. The music was impressionistic and at times pseudo-Balinese (again, a la Sculthorpe). One discord was sustained throughout, I think on an electric piano or on a synth set to “harpsichord”, perhaps. Simply marvellous.
Peter Butler: Champagne will be Served at Interval. Butler played chimes and electronic piano at front. The e-piano was too loud, especially in comparison with the acoustic piano at rear. Apart from this the piece was very good. The “form” was a call-and-response structure, with the call issued by one of the five sections (strings; e-piano; piano; guitar and flute; and guitar and flute) to another, with the chimes intervening every so often to signal a climax, or perhaps an anti-climax. The calls – were these questions? – occasionally became fierce, with loud crescendos and sustained ranting, usually ending abruptly or halted by a clang of the chimes. Certainly, as the notes said, a snakes-and-ladders piece. Apparently, only the outline was sketched by the composer, with details added by the performers. It would be interesting to see the score. This was the most expressionistic piece of the evening (ignoring the tape realization).
Peter Butler: One Dollar per Glass. A piece for solo guitar, performed by Brian Lewis, this was a collage of special effects: tapping of the base of the guitar; playing it with a cello bow, a beer glass and a spoon; and re-tuning the instrument while it was being played. The second half of the piece was more overboard with effects than the first, which at least required some guitar-playing skills from the performer.
Douglas Knehans: Survey in Regions (A Tragedy in 4 Parts). Structured on Eliot’s poem, Portrait of a Lady, the piece was supported by rude tape noises. Some of these tape recordings were verses of the poem, although others sounded like Ronnie Barker speaking. I was unable not to laugh each time Barker’s voice was heard. The piece seemed sentimental and insincere, because so many cues in the poem were missed or ignored: “attenuated tones of violins, Mingled with remote cornets”, “a dull tom-tom begins”, etc. The only excitement was visual, since the performers each played many instruments (although only ever one at a time), so that everyone was running around: organist to xylophone, and then back; guitarist to bass drum and back, only to be followed to the drum immediately by the lady percussionist. Musically, the piece made no sense to me, although the organ had some nice phrases now and again.
Caravan in Brisbane
While posting about great jazz gigs, I remembered one superb performance I’d forgotten to record. On 27 November 2009, I heard a gypsy-style jazz group play at Brisbane Jazz Club. The Club has a million-dollar location at Kangaroo Point on the Brisbane River, looking back towards the city. Watching performers against a large window showing a darkening city skyscape across the water was just magical. I hope that the club can recover from the recent floods and return to their home.
The audience that night was about 50, including tables of people speaking Japanese and Russian. The band was advertised as Cam Ford’s Gypsy Swingers, but I’m not sure everyone was there. The line-up included Ian Date, leader, on acoustic guitar and trumpet, his brother Nigel Date on acoustic guitar, Daniel Weltlinger on violin, and two players whose names I failed to catch – an acoustic guitarist and an electric bass player. Later in the evening, the five were joined by another acoustic guitarist and a clarinet player (Dan?). The music included some flamenco (to be expected with all those guitars) and was mostly 1920s Hot Club de France-style arrangements. Most pieces had a fast, 4/4 tradjazz beat, with the bass playing a walking bass part. This is a style of jazz I am not fond of, since much of it sounds the same, but the players showed real skill. The violin or the lead guitar usually played a solo over the top, or sometimes, the two – violin and lead guitar – played a call-and-response duet. These tunes were all done with energy, enthusiasm and skill.
With the full line-up of seven, the group played an absolutely superb arrangement of Caravan, a song I have blogged about before. The arrangement began with the violin playing the melody over guitar rhythms and an ostinato bass. This first run through was then followed by several choruses where the melody was played in unison first by the violin and one guitar, and then with a second guitar playing a 2nd or a 3rd higher than the unison part. The effect of this was something like an Hawaiiwan guitar, and created a sound that was iridescent, shimmering like the flickering lights on the river in the window behind the musicians.
To me, the stand-out performer on the night was the violinist, Daniel Weltlinger, whom nothing seemed to faze. At one point, when the two additional players joined, he was shouting chord changes to the clarinetist while improvising his own solo at the same time.
Bam and sweet potato pie
Here’s a story from Barack Obama’s 2008 Presidential campaign which I meant to blog when I read it. From an article by Mark Danner:
Everything else they [election commentators and bloggers] would never see. It existed only for the several thousand cheering people in Vernon Park on that bright morning in Germantown. They would never see, for instance, Obama’s riff on sweet potato pie. It came as he told a story about his campaigning “the other day in a little town in Ohio, with the governor there,” about how he and the governor suddenly felt hungry and “decided we’d stop right there and get some pie.” Now here began a little gem of a story, which had at its center the diner employees who wanted to take a picture with Obama, not least because, as they told him, their boss was a die-hard Republican and “they wanted to tweak him a little with that picture.” All this was heading toward a carefully choreographed finale, where the owner appeared personally with the pie for candidate and governor and Obama looked at the pie and looked at the pie-carrying die-hard Republican owner and “then I said to him”—perfectly elongated pause—“How’s business?”
This brought on great gales of laughter from the crowd. For the joke turned on a point already precisely made: How can even the most die-hard of die-hard Republicans, if he is thinking of his self-interest, how can he vote Republican this year? “If you beat your head against the wall,” Obama demanded of that faraway Republican with his pie, to a blizzard of “oh yeahs!” and “you got that right!” from the crowd, “and it hurts and hurts, how can you keep doing it?” But it was those two words, ”How’s business?”—that casual greeting thrown at the Republican diner owner that showed that there simply could be no other choice this year—that showed the case proved, wrapped up, unassailable.And yet what struck me in this little model of political art was a tiny riff the candidate effortlessly worked into it from his banter with the crowd. When Obama launched into his story with “Because I love pie,” a woman out in that sea of cheering, laughing people shouted back, “I’ll make you pie, baby!” and to the general hooting laughter the candidate returned, “Oh yeah, you gonna make me pie?” Then, after a beat, amid even more raucous laughter, and several other female voices shouting out invitations, “You gonna make me sweet potato pie?” More shouts and laughter. “All you gonna make me pie?”“Well you know I love sweet potato pie. And I think what we’re going to have to do here”—and the laughter and the shouting rose and as it did his voice rose above it—“what we’re going to have to do here is have a sweet potato pie contest…. That’s right. And in this contest, I’m gonna be the judge.” The laughter rose and you could hear not only the women but the deep laughter of the men taking delight in the double entendre that was not only about the women and their laughing, teasing offers and about their pie that that lanky confident smiling young man knew how to eat and enjoy and judge, but even more now, amazingly, as people came one by one to recognize, about something else. To those people gathered in Vernon Park that bright sun-drenched morning, it was an even more titillating and more pleasurable double entendre, for it was most clearly about something they’d never had but hoped and dreamed of having and now had begun to believe they were within the shortest of short distances of finally tasting. “Because you all know,” their candidate told them, “that I know sweet potato pie.” “
Reference:
Mark Danner [2008]: Obama and Sweet Potato Pie. New York Review of Books, 23 October 2008.
Scottish Marley Chingus
A quick shout-out to Marley Chingus Jazz Explosion, who play at The Caledonia alternate Friday nights, to where a friend invited me last night. In truth, I’ve seen their posters for a couple of years, but had avoided going to hear them. Their twee name makes them sound like a tribute band, and who wants to listen to people with insufficient imagination to play their own music, or even to invent their own name?
But the loss was mine. What a great performance! The quartet comprises Colin Lamont on drums, Dave Spencer on e-double bass, Bob Whittaker on tenor, and long-fingered medic Misha Gray on e-piano. Last night they also had guesting another tenor player, whose name I did not catch. (And Principal Cellist of the RLPO, Jonathan Aasgaard, was also in the crowd.) Mingus, Monk, and Shorter featured (eg, JuJu), as well as their own fine compositions in brazen, hard-driving, funky, modal post-bop – serious early-60s jazz, before the harmonic emptiness of fusion took prominence. What I particularly liked was that their solos did not sound the same from song to song; quite a few jazz performers really play the same solos whatever the underlying tune. Gray’s trills, two-finger glissandos, and left-hand ostinatos were a delight, recalling early piano styles, and I also liked his occasional Shearing-style block chords. He could do more with those, I think.
Pity about the name, though.