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You Want to Deal With a Humanitarian Crisis, Mr Obama?
“Right now Israel, with full support from the U.S. is denying 1.5 million people in Gaza ALL the necessities of life.” Read Kathleen and Bill Christison’s searing emergency bulletin to Obama. “This is a U.S.-created, U.S.-supported disaster…Put meat on the bones of your talk about compassion…” Also in the new issue of our subscriber-only newsletter, Barbara Rose Johnston brings us a detailed report on the drive for justice in Guatemala after another catastrophe sponsored by the U.S. – the building of the Chixoy Dam. Finally, Alexander Cockburn sets out the record of assaults on freedom in the Bush years. Get your Legacy Edition today by subscribing online or calling 1-800-840-3683 Contributions to CounterPunch are tax-deductible. Click here to make a donation. If you find our site useful please: Subscribe Now! CounterPunch books and gear make great presents.
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Today's Stories December 5 / 7, 2008 Brian Cloughley December 4, 2008 Ece Temelkuran Ralph Nader Harry Browne Eamonn Fingleton Conn Hallinan Mike Whitney Stewart J. Lawrence Paul Fitzgerald / Karyn Strickler Jennifer Matsui Website of the Day December 3, 2008 Andrew Cockburn Sheldon Rampton Robert Weissman Yifat Susskind William Blum Alan Singer David Macaray Martha Rosenberg Mats Svensson Website of the Day December 2, 2008 Jeremy Scahill Paul Craig Roberts Ayesha Ijaz Khan Sarah Anderson / William Blum John Ross Dave Lindorff Nicola Nasser Steve Conn Robert Bryce Website of the Day December 1, 2008 Patrick Cockburn Damien Millet / Vijay Prashad Deepak Tripathi Joshua Frank P. Sainath Alan Farago Binoy Kampmark Chris Genovali David Michael Green Stephen Martin Website of the Day November 28-30, 2008 Alexander Cockburn Mike Whitney Ted Honderich Tom Kerr Mike Ely David Yearsley Deepak Tripathi Sonja Karkar Ramzy Baroud Robert Weitzel Robert Roth Carlos Fierro David Macaray David Rosen James Cockcroft Stan Cox Steve Conn Stephen Martin Richard Rhames Kim Nicolini Lorenzo Wolff Poets' Basement November 27, 2008 Tariq Ali Steve Hendricks Ralph Nader John Walsh Dave Lindorff Christopher Brauchli Matthew Koehler Website of the Day
November 26, 2008 Michael Hudson Alan Farago Stanley Heller Kevin Zeese Steve Conn Ray McGovern Ron Jacobs Eric Walberg Martha Rosenberg Matt Siegfried Website of the Day
November 25, 2008 James Abourezk Ralph Nader Patrick Irelan John Ross Fred Gardner Dan LaBotz Tom Barry Norman Solomon Richard Morse Chris Strohm Website of the Day November 24, 2008 Mike Whitney Pam Martens Laray Polk David Ker Thomson Uri Avnery Joe Mowrey Ramzi Kysia Kevin Zeese Dave Lindorff David Macaray Howard Lisnoff Website of the Day November 21 / 23, 2008 Alexander Cockburn Michael Hudson Mike Whitney Barbara Rose Johnston / Serge Halimi Alan Farago Ralph Nader Saul Landau Robert Bryce Shannon May Binoy Kampmark Jack Ely Ramzy Baroud Missy Beattie Larry Portis James McEnteer Christopher Brauchli David Yearsley Adam Engel Ron Jacobs Lorenzo Wolff Poets' Basement Website of the Weekend November 20, 2008 P. Sainath Brian McKenna Paul Craig Roberts Andy Worthington Peter Lee Dr. Eyad al-Serraj Sen. Russ Feingold Lance Selfa Ray McGovern Benjamin G. Davis Tracy McLellan Website of the Day November 19, 2008 M. Shahid Alam Mario A. Murillo Martine Boulard Robin D. G. Kelley Behrooz Ghamari-Tabrizi Jonathan Cook Steve Conn George Wuerthner Michael Winship Stephen Martin Website of the Day November 18, 2008 Chellis Glendinning George C. Wilson Franklin Lamb Bill and Kathleen Christison Roger Burbach John Ross Wajahat Ali Damien Millet / Marc Gardner Eric Walberg Wendy Williams Website of the Day November 17, 2008 Michael Hudson Paul Craig Roberts Mike Whitney Steve Conn Andy Worthington Jonathan Cook Rannie Amiri David Macaray David Michael Green Charles Modiano Website of the Day November 14 / 16, 2008 Alexander Cockburn Jeffrey St. Clair Mike Whitney Sasan Fayazmanesh Moshe Adler Anthony DiMaggio Jean Bricmont Sheldon Rampton Douglas Valentine Joseph Nevins / Tom Barry Ron Jacobs Larry Portis Mary Lynn Cramer Obama's Brain Trust: Seems Like Old Times Sherry Wolf Peter Cervantes-Gautschi Jacob Hornberger Lance Selfa Benjamin Dangl Seth Sandronsky Russell Mokhiber Allan Stellar Kelly Overton Martha Rosenberg Richard Rhames David Yearsley Lorenzo Wolff Poets' Basement Website of the Weekend
November 13, 2008 Pam Martens Vijay Prashad Patrick Cockburn Jonathan Cook Ralph Nader Bill Quigley Lee Sustar Omar Barghouti Steve Conn Howard Lisnoff Jeff Cohen Website of the Day November 12, 2008 Johanna Berrigan Steve Conn Patrick Bond Bokar Ture / Alan Farago Dave Lindorff Karl Grossman David Macaray George Wuerthner Susie Day Website of the Day
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Weekend Edition The Musical PatriotThemantics From the Golden PastBy DAVID YEARSLEY Nothing is more deeply embedded in the memories of pop culture’s children than the television theme song. Before the advent of musical notation, novice monks memorized the entire body of Gregorian chant, listening and singing many hours every day. The t.v. generation had its core repertoire drummed into its skulls after school, in prime time, or on Saturday morning by an electronic box. This corpus of mediocre music will be lodged even unto Alzheimer’s in the mental hard drive of those so indoctrinated. That I know the words and melody to the theme song of Gilligan’s Island more profoundly than any piece by Bach is a fact that would send me reeling into depression if I thought about it too much. Around each theme song orbits vast constellations, even galaxies, of mental associations. Play me Star Trek and I can smell the house I lived in when I was seven-years-old. I can see the phantom casserole my mother was trying to foist on me and my siblings under cover of darkened room, the dubious culinary concoction glowing in the warm flicker of the television. Energized by the soaring theme song in the opening credits, the Starship Enterprise hits warp speed. Life and an hour of Star Trek stretches before me. The casserole gets eaten without complaint. The typical CD collections of television theme songs plays on just this kind of nostalgia, sometimes naive, but more often self-ironizing. Among the many other layers of enjoyment and disgust that attend such compilations is a bookish, trainspotting urge to demonstrate a command of this trite body of song. There is nothing more impressive and at the same time dispiriting than participating in a hum-off of theme songs or listening to a pop-junky virtuoso whistle merrily through his catalog of favorites. Yes, there is also simple good fun to be had from this material. Why deny the appeal of trumpeter Clark Terry’s experiments with the theme from the Flintstones turning it into a pleasant bebop outing? By drawing on a nearly universal cultural reference, Terry made high-speed jazz accessible to many more than would otherwise have listened, though I suspect few, if any, ventured beyond it to the more demanding pleasures of Charlie Parker’s Koko and the like. Aside from the way such uses of theme songs can play archly with the cultural associations they elicit in listeners, such musical practices also enjoy a rare advantage over other forms of expression. Treating material so ingrained in an audience allows the musician a reference point—a perhaps a series of reference points—against which to demonstrate her art and have it delight, uplift, and have it be judged and appreciated. In Bach’s many settings of the seminal Lutheran chorale A Mighty Fortress is Our God, he was treating a text and a melody that were the bedrock not only of Lutheran society but at the core of individual and shared human knowledge. Those listening could usually latch on to the reference point and thus be astonished by the composer’s engagement with the melody, even if they did could not follow all the contortions of his artifice. In an age when the arts of memory have been ceded to Google, there is great potential in using material still thriving in the human mind, music accessible with an immediacy and emotional resonance that the internet still cannot provide. Each generation has its own store of such melodies, accumulated when the memory was most receptive, from early childhood to the teens. Born in the counterculture year of 1968 in Edmonton, Canada, jazz pianist John Stetch has now confronted one such chapter of the pop culture corpus with his most recent CD “TV Trio”. It is a masterpiece of transformative genius, a glorious exercise in defeating expectations and finding beauty in unexpected places. This recording is also complex but never pedantic commentary on musical memory and emotion. The repertoire is from the 60s and 70s and 80s, heard by the artist, I guess, either when the shows in question were in syndication or still in production. The disc kicks off with the theme from The Waltons, which ran on CBS from 1972 to 1981. The show was pure whitebread family values, projected most endearingly in the oft-parodied closing scene in which the numerous Walton kids, all bunking in the same room, wished each other good night as darkness descended on the cabin: “Good night Jim-Bob … Good night Mary Ellen … Good night John Boy” etc. While wayward Jason Walton did do some honky- tonk piano playing over the run of the show, jazz is about the last thing you’d think of if you ever happen to think of The Waltons. The original theme song is a fast waltz with a folksy, pastoral feel. It’s safe, cozy, reassuring. If the music evokes dance it is of harmlessly chaste variety: fragrant meadows and long skirts, not sweat and smoke. There is a diluted dose of Copland Americana in the harmony, and the melody is all disarming simplicity. Stetch begins his rendition of The Waltons with a short piano introduction that tells us within in the first second that he’ll be cutting hard against the grain of the pop-culture trees he’s felled for milling on this CD. He gets our attention with brisk and bluesy right-hand riffs over a pedal point in the left hand. The snap of Rodney Green’s snare then shatters the downhome idyll of Hollywood’s most endearing hillbillies. When the familiar melody sounds forth in the tenor range it does so as if from the unconscious of the listener’s mind (that is, if he is of a certain right age). With Doug Weiss joining in on bass, Stetch’s thick, harmonically adventurous chords and bitingly syncopated rhythmic counterpoint completely reconfigure the theme and its meaning. Unmistakable, the tune has nonetheless been utterly transformed. Whereas the original is meant to sweep the viewer into an hour’s worth of rural nostalgia, Stetch’s reading is alert, always searching, hesitating, then jolting forward. Rather than calm and assurance we enjoy the greater pleasures of an edgy excitement. Whereas the theme, like such television programs themselves, has as its main goal reinforcing the comfortable, Stetch’s Waltons revels in the unexpected, the unpredictable, even the dangerous. This Waltons, like the rest of Stetch’s constantly delightful and imaginative CD is also a lot more fun than the original: complicated contrarian, beautiful, and alive. And it’s a hugely swinging affair: after dissecting the theme, the stop-start arrangement is then let loose into an up-tempo feast, dripping with grease and garnished with be-bop filligree, before finally veering into a bumptious unison chorus with bass, accompanied by affirmative and groovy rim clicks on Green’s snare. Never has a bit of charming Hollywood fakery been so magnificently relocated from its back-lot mountain to the gritty tenements of jazz. But Stetch is too filled with ideas to be satisfied with the simple transformation of a saccharine pop-culture original. There is also more complex, though still supremely fun, cultural commentary to be heard in this inspiring trio rendition. The Waltons alone is worth the price of admission, and foretells in microcosm, though not in the specificity of ingenious detail, the riches to be reveled in on the subsequent tracks. These include the rapturous flight of Star Trek, which affords opportunity both for an appreciation of the arranger’s seemingly limitless imagination and opens up plenty of unexplored space for ebullient, swinging improvisation. The ten-gallon heroism of Dallas is quashed, delivered instead as an elegiac, minor ballad. The theme from All My Children, the shortest track on the album, finds exquisite beauty in the most unlikely place, leaving one to ask how this cheap day-time smut could have born the sweetest, most touching, of all songs. The Price is Right begins as pure affirmation, but Come Sunday gospel touches quickly reveal another side to the rampant mid-morning consumer orgy. And behind Door Number Three: a fiercely swinging piano trio! Stetch begins his solo piano treatment of Sandford and Son by muting the original’s brash funk and examining it first as introspective prelude. There are, however, intimations of power, and these emerge gradually, periodically giving way to pointillistic images, which are in turn smashed by sledgehammer chords bringing us back to the junkyard. But what about those members of other generations who don’t recognize these tunes? These listeners won’t have the same access to the emotional and musical complexities of Stetch’s engagement with this material. His uplifting conversion of the banal to the complex and refined might well be lost on them. What you are left with without this pre-history, not to say baggage, is simply this: glorious art. And for children and adults of all ages it’s the perfect Christmas gift—to be unwrapped in front of the t.v. David Yearsley teaches at Cornell University. A long-time contributor to the Anderson Valley Advertiser, he is author of Bach and the Meanings of Counterpoint His latest CD, “All Your Cares Beguile: Songs and Sonatas from Baroque London”, has just been released by Musica Omnia. He can be reached at dgy2@cornell.edu
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