How I fell in love with jazz

It's Saturday night and I'm listening to this program, which has been my constant companion for the last dozen or so years.

I came across it purely unexpectedly, and virtually by accident, which makes its discovery even more satisfying. As a pop-addled child of the 1970s, I finally grew up musically and began to shed the rock world that didn't last much longer than my youth.

This host doesn't spin any junk. None of the smooth or yuppie jazz, the odious Kenny G sound that might be easy on the ears. But it ain't jazz. The classics, ranging chronologically from the Duke Ellington and late Big Band era, with a big sweeping dive into the Bop period and up through the late 1960s and John Coltrane: this is the basic discography. There's some Louis Armstrong, and as well as Diana Krall and a young Russian pianist, Eldar. Mix in some Latin jazz from the likes of Tete Montoya. A personal and unique stamp is what makes it such a treat. 

And the special occasions, even the sad ones, have been most memorable. The week Frank Sinatra died, nothing was played but Ol' Blue Eyes for the entire five-hour show.

It's one of the many reasons I'm tuning in now, and hope I will be for many years to come.

Color this passion bright orange

Excited about the chance to see the talented, but surprising, Dutch side today for the first time in the European championships quarterfinals. Talented, as they always are, with a stocked roster of some of the best club players on the continent. Surprising, because Holland has been a notorious underachiever on the international stage recently. Two years ago they didn't impress at the World Cup, and in 2002 missed that event altogether. A nation that created the "Total Football" revolution had descended into a collection of individuals who didn't seem to care playing together. 

But in an age of often soulless, defensive-minded soccer dominated by the commercial demands of the club game, these Dutch are sparking some fond memories of Holland's glorious past, led by Johan Cruyff in the 1970s and a decade later, from current coach Marco van Basten:

"Their style is love-you-madly, artfully managed excess. . . . It is Liberation Soccer, fiesta football, with the added pleasure that no one is trying to turn it into ideology."

It's hard to believe this is essentially the same Dutch squad that two years ago exited the World Cup in violent disgrace against Portugal, guided by an unremorseful van Basten. Soon he will be taking the reins at famed Amsterdam club Ajax, but for just a little while longer (and maybe just this quarterfinal matchup against the resolute Russians) there's some genuine passion on the pitch that's being allowed to be played out.

Read the whole ode to Die Oranje, but be warned of the hack lead. It's gruesome. Once you get past it, you may find it just as enjoyable as watching the Dutch. 

Update: I blogged too soon. Russia was just as dazzling today in a 3-1 extra time win as Dutch-born coach Guus Hiddink continues his expatriate miracle work. South Korea in '02, Australia in '06 and now this might be the most impressive feat of all.

Monday morning crank: Gore Vidal

Perfect way to start the week, as far as I'm concerned: A rather chippy New York Times Q & A (registration required) with the old man, who never had any use for the Gray Lady and clearly didn't want to be part of this interview:

Q. Why do you think critics have traditionally praised your essays more than your fiction?

A. That's because they don't know how to read.

And that's just the first question. It gets even more delightfully curmudgeonly from there. Good way to get my innately crabby brain working the way it works best.

Thanks to: Bookninja.

Whereby some Adventures in Good Blogging get underway . . . I hope

Not a mission statement. Nor a detailed manifesto. And surely not anything planned out. I hope this blog is at least a thoughtful stab from time to time on subjects that interest me that have nothing to do with my work:

The arts (especially literature, jazz and classical music, film noir and Impressionistic and Modernist painting), cooking and travel, many sports (notably soccer) and what I call "Web life," which encompasses above all abiding passions for Internet radio and broadcasting. Had I not become a print hack, life behind a microphone might have been the route I would most likely have taken.

But after 20 years as a newspaper reporter and the next five as a Web news producer and editor -- the geek crowd likes to call my type "digital immigrants" -- I still feel the need for a creative writing outlet that's personal and quirky and eclectic and human. Hey, isn't that what blogs are all about?

This enterprise could end up just about anywhere -- I may get all worked up at times over issues like Net Neutrality and efforts by the major telecoms to limit access to the Web, or at least coax extortionist sums for the privilege of surfing. There's a special place in Purgatory just waiting for the likes of unnamed monopolists to whom I already pay too much money for what they call basic service. Every so often I may drop them a rung or two here.

From mid-August to mid-May, I get hopping mad and frustrated at the exploits of the greatest football club in the world, Liverpool FC, which is going on a 20-year league title drought in England. Rafa Benitez' managerial decisions and a seemingly Stone Age central defense probably will not be effectively resolved during this summer respite, unfortunately.

I've gone absolutely berserk (happily so, in this case) over the availability of artistic, literary and cultural websites, blogs, photos, audio and video clips and other content that surely make the purists scoff. Oh, and those "Cassandras" who bemoan the Web and are convinced it's making us all dumber, they really make me crabby because of their either/or absolutist diatribes. 

What you won't see here: much in the way of politics. Even if I weren't a working journalist, why follow down those weather-beaten paths? A journalistic comrade is convinced that most political blogs aren't well-written because there's so much partisan hackery involved, although I've linked on my main page a few of the better ones that show what can be maximized with Web technology and online news values. I'm pretty adamant about issues like the First Amendment, the Constitution, etc., so there may be some postings here when freedom of expression is imperiled, which is far a more frequent occasion than it ought to be. 

I'm not religious, but I don't see how matters of faith, theology and belief can be separated from a blog that delves into cultural matters. But there is a distinction between, say, examining Graham Greene's Catholicism and harping on the ideological battles that have engulfed American politics and religion for most of my lifetime. 

While I have my own political ideals, I heatedly shun ideology of almost every kind, especially those creeds that try to infect the pursuit of art, truth and joy. Art for art's sake may sound like a cliché, but it's the best defense against taking the passion out of life's greatest passions.

Aw, hell, that sure does sound like a mission statement, manifesto and plan for blogging action after all, doesn't it? All I want to do with this blog is have fun with it. As a middle-aged Johnny Sue-come-lately to the Web, this blogger is excited about some Adventures in Good Blogging. May I surprise myself every day with what I write.

And if you want to find out more about me, here goes. Want to see what sorts of things I file away on the Web? Check out this collection. Check out my favorite sites on the blog roll to the right, and get touch with me via email at: aucontraire81@gmail.com.