Category Archives: Misc

‘Just Answer the Question’ – a Thinking Podcast with Alice Dreger

I’ve been working on a project since the beginning of the year and it’s finally ready to see the light of day, so I’d like to share a bit about it should you be interested. It’s different from the usual ground I’ve covered here and elsewhere over the years.

Just Answer the Question is a thinking podcast created and hosted by Alice Dreger, the esteemed writer, historian, and speaker. (She also happens to be a friend, former neighbor, and now colleague.) I’m the producer*, and I also provide original music for the show. For a little more background on how this came to be, see Alice’s newsletter on the topic.

Yes, I know, seemingly everyone has a podcast these days. (Oddly enough, my previous post was about my guesting on another show.) There’s a lot of content out there, maybe even too much, and we hope to create a thoughtful space separate from the news cycle and whatever the controversy du jour may be. From the show’s website:

For each episode of Just Answer the Question, we take one question and use it like a corkscrew to open a bottle of intellectual wine that we then share with three helpers. Some podcasts call their visitors “guests,” but we consider ours “helpers,” because they help us think through our questions by sharing their experiences, research, and insights.
After we’ve recorded conversations with our episode-specific helpers, our creator Alice Dreger and producer Mike Teager then use the recordings as primary sources to compose episodes that take you through a guided tour of the exploration of our central question. Alice contributes short essays and narrative glue, while Mike contributes original musical framing. Our goal is to give you somewhere around an hour of time to think, feel, remember, laugh, listen, and examine the threads that weave through our lives. Our hope is that we help you enjoy this big collaboration as much as we do.
– JATQ website

You can also watch our promo video on our website and Twitter.

The podcast is free and the first three episodes are available now on all main directories with more in the pipeline. New episodes should appear about every ~3 weeks.

We’ve recorded conversations with many compelling, thoughtful folks already—some you may have heard of and others who may be new to you. But regardless of name recognition, the discussions have been consistently rich and engaging.

We also offer additional content via a paid subscription. This is known as the Tangent Tier. For $5 per month, you can access the long-form interviews from which we pull excerpts for the main (free) podcast episodes. We may ultimately only use ~15 minutes or so of a given interview for an episode, but we often talk with our helpers for ~40-60 minutes each, and much is left on the cutting-room floor. For those interested in more of the “two people talking” format, this is that (compared to the more produced format of Just Answer the Question).

If you’re interested in the Tangent Tier, more info is here and you can subscribe here. And since the first three main episodes are now available, the accompanying Tangent Tier installments are too. (Nine of them, to be exact: three for each episode.)

The first three episodes are as follows:
– “What’s have I done?” — An examination of how we take stock of our lives: as a continuous narrative or as a series of episodes. Featuring discussions with bioethicist Dr. Tod Chambers and psychologists Dr. Dan McAdams and Dr. Jonathan Adler.
– “What’s it like to play me?” — A look at role-playing, including as oneself in different contexts. Featuring discussions with radio personality and playwright Peter Sagal, actress Jennifer Riker, and narrator and audio artist Tavia Gilbert.
– “Can a father be a mother?” — Reflections on being a primary caregiver. Featuring discussions with journalist and The Company of Dads founder Paul Sullivan, psychologist Dr. Jonathan Adler, and yours truly.

Do give a listen to the podcast if it sounds like something you’d like to explore.

Relevant links:
Just Answer the Question website
Subscribe to the podcast via Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon, Google Podcasts, and more…
Subscribe to the Tangent Tier here

—

*As for my being the producer, I’m reminded of a line from one of my favorite movies, Get Shorty, delivered by a confident Chili Palmer: “I don’t think the producer has to know much.”

In all seriousness, when Alice first asked me about collaborating on this, I was (and am) beyond flattered, and I admitted that I knew very little (i.e., nothing) about producing generally and podcast production specifically. That said, in addition to being friends, we knew that we liked working together when I used to report for East Lansing Info. So we used that and our shared penchant for organization as a starting point, and here we are. The learning curve has been and remains steep but rewarding.

Talking Parenting on ‘The Company of Dads’ Podcast

Tuning Out

What a time to be alive. I’m absolutely exhausted.

The reasons are myriad and obvious, and I know I’m not the only one. The endless parade of news headlines reads like something from a slightly absurdist movie. Nearly everyone on social media is engaged in an endless, all-consuming culture war on all fronts. (Of course, that’s not to say that it’s not for righteous reasons. But, at the end of the day, if all you’ve done is pushed out some snarky comments and tweets, what do you have to show for it? What have you done?) Many lives are turned upside down for a multitude of reasons.

I’ve tried quite hard over the last decade or so to keep this blog music-focused rather than an all-encompassing personal diary. That said, I’m veering off that some here. Mostly because it’s on my mind. Also, in my “day job” I work remotely from a home office and have done so for a number of years. Between that and being the primary caregiver for our son, I’ve been living a version of “pandemic life” for years before it was the new normal. (Of course, at-home kindergarten wasn’t in the plan years or months ago, which has been the biggest complication for me personally, but here we are.) So, below are a couple cents’ worth of notions if things are all turned around and you’re drowning in the mania.

With everything going on, it’s hard for me to focus or care enough about a music topic to attempt to write at length. I’ve attempted to start dozens of posts for this site, only to abandon or trash them. I’ve even found it difficult to properly publicize and plug my most recent album with Matt Borghi. (Read about it here!) Gigs have dried up, of course, as they have for everyone else. Dozens were canceled for me this summer, though we managed to keep a small handful in the end, and I doubt there’ll be another until the spring. It’s just been a lot of time practicing punctuated by a little recording here and there for a nascent endeavor. I dove deep into the classical literature for a few months during the strictest parts of quarantine, which was refreshing, and I’ve also explored a number of new-for-me jazz standards. But ultimately it’s not worth discussing too deeply at present.

[One exception on music topics is my most recent contrarian hot take. I’ve long been a firm believer in separating the art from the artist (or, if possible, the person from the artist), so the constant arguments over whom to cancel don’t interest me much. That said, if I were to partake, given the relatively arbitrary nature of where people decide “the line” may be, my vote would be to cancel J.S. Bach on account of seemingly being a bad parent. Let’s face it: between his work obligations, his extra-curricular musical pursuits, and voluminous progenitorial endeavors, I have a hard time believing he could’ve been an engaged, attentive parent at the individual level. And yet: great contrapuntal technique nonetheless!]

Ultimately, it helps to just tune out, unplug, and focus on the micro. Though everyone has their own method, the following combination works for me (and admittedly I’m not as good at them as I’d like to be), in no particular order:

Limiting my social media consumption and engagement.
Reading my (paid for!) newspaper articles straight from the source instead of dealing with scores of comments.
Keeping at the horn, learning and exploring new material.
Exercising in the fresh air.
Saying no.
Getting involved in my local community.
Connecting.

“Limiting my social media consumption and engagement.”
This helps. Greatly. If you can—and you certainly are able to!—keep these things off your phone or tablet, or at least strictly limit when they’re allowed to be on there. There are seemingly no areas of the internet that aren’t infected with some level of infighting or riling up. Even my supposedly music- or arts-only feeds are littered with bile-spewing all around. Ultimately you’re just doom-scrolling, raising your blood pressure, and likely regretful when you see how much time has passed.

“Reading my (paid for!) newspaper articles straight from the source instead of dealing with scores of comments.”
If nothing else, start with your local paper. That national horse races and scandals-of-the-hour are sexy, but they often have little to do tangibly with what’s going in your backyard. If you can get multiple news sources outside of social media, then you’re ahead of the game.
— A related note: don’t make socio-political leanings the end-all of humanity. I have deep convictions on a broad array of topics, but as the years pass I tend to not really care to casually discuss them with most people. I’m perfectly fine engaging on far less visceral topics. As an example, in the cover band I belong to, I’m the odd one out politically, but we still get along nicely and play a tight rendition of Chicago’s “Make Me Smile.”
— Another related note: I’ve made a point to read more books over this year and last. Again, it takes time—sometimes only 20 minutes per day—but it’s a nice distraction that helps me unwind.

“Keeping at the horn, learning and exploring new material.”
For me, it’s music-making. Whatever your interest is (professional or amateur or hobby or otherwise), focus on it and shut everything else out as consistently as you can, even if for short windows of time. It doesn’t have to be Productive, but if it’s far removed from the constant daily noise, that’s best.

“Exercising in the fresh air.”
Go for a walk. Get outside. (The gyms are likely closed or at reduced capacity anyway.) Whatever it is you’re partial to or tolerate. For me, I’ve always been a walker, but I’ve been running quite faithfully the last ~16 months. It took a couple months for me to make it an iron-clad routine, but now it’s a reliable part of my week. Listen to something if that helps. (I’m in that minority of folks who don’t listen to anything while doing so. Partially due to aural health, and also because I prefer the quiet and to be lost in my thoughts.)

“Saying no.”
This is the biggie. I’ve always been a “yes person” by default—always wanting to participate and not miss out, or feeling like I don’t want to disappoint. Now, though, between family and work and my own well-being, I only have so much time. “No” is still challenging to say sometimes, but I’m quicker with it than I used to be. It’s helped far more than it’s hurt, even when I’ve turned down something I wanted to do.

“Getting involved in my local community.”
This is a big one, particularly in the age of online activism. Sharing articles with your peers (like-minded or not) is fine, but, again, what are you actually doing? I’ve long had a strong interest in municipal politics, so I guess it’s easy for me to recommend this. But, even if you’re not that interested, the village/town/city, county, and state actions and decisions are the ones that most often affect you directly, whether you’re aware of it or not. A lot can happen at your local school board or town board or city council meeting, especially when almost no one from the public attends or cares. Volunteering time or money or both is great if you can too. If you don’t care at all about this sort of thing, then all right. But if you find yourself endlessly awaiting the next !BREAKING NEWS! alert on your device, check out what’s happening at town hall.

“Connecting.”
Stay connected to those whom you’re close with, including yourself. The former by making time, and the latter via some of the above.

Time to log off.

[NOTE: The original post was lost in a site error. This is a reconstruction/re-posting.]

Mark Stryker’s ‘Jazz From Detroit’

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I unintentionally kicked off 2020 with a bang, at least in one respect. I read Mark Stryker’s excellent Jazz from Detroit last month, and it was one of the most enjoyable books I’ve read in some time, sticking with me weeks after I finished it.

I had been looking forward to the book’s release for some time, though it took me longer than expected to get around to it. (Upon seeing him at a wonderful Prism Quartet recital in Ypsilanti in November 2018, I introduced myself to let him know I was looking forward to the book’s eventual release.) I’ve followed Stryker’s work for years and his Twitter timeline is a wonderful repository of historical and musical morsels. I’ve seen him around at various shows in southeast Michigan over the years (the trademark hat and mustache make him easy to identify).

Whether people are aware of it or not—and many are likely not—Detroit has played an integral role in the development of jazz. For those with even a modest jazz collection (…for those who even have a non-streaming collection anymore, that is…), look through the liner notes and you’re bound to see at least one name who is from or spent time in the Motor City. I mean, where would jazz as an art form be without the John Coltrane Quartet (with Detroiter Elvin Jones on drums) and Miles Davis’s Second Great Quintet (with Detroiter Ron Carter on bass)? (Hell, Ron Carter alone is credited on over 2,000 albums.) That said, until Jazz from Detroit‘s release in July 2019, no one had tried to cover that history in a single volume.

A richly detailed and comprehensive look at both the musical heritage of the city and the lineages in which Detroit has played an integral part, Jazz from Detroit has much to offer to both the musician and layman. Coming in at nearly 300 pages—not including the informative appendices and voluminous index—it’s a taut text that covers a century of not just musical developments, but economic, industrial, demographic, political, and sociological ones too. Stryker reaches beyond purely musical considerations, digging deeply to examine the factors that helped make Detroit such a cultural powerhouse. Bassist and pedagogue Rodney Whitaker said it best, telling Stryker, “That’s what we do in Detroit. We make cars, and we make jazz musicians.” (p. 294)

Stryker spent decades doing his homework, much of that time as a critic for the Detroit Free Press. In addition to his digesting existing scholarship, many of the interviews with the musicians and sidemen discussed throughout the book, including several who are now deceased, were conducted by Stryker personally. His authority comes from being someone who is both a fan of the music and history as well as someone who is himself a part of it. (His anecdote about his first phone call with bassist Ralphe Armstrong had me laughing out loud.) Additionally, his genuine love of the city and its heritage come through with every passage. He’s not a dispassionate scholar who swoops in from parts unknown to examine a phenomenon, only to leave once he’s collected his data. Rather, he’s a champion of the city and its legacy, pulling it out from under the shadows of New York City and Los Angeles, and, to a lesser extent, New Orleans, Kansas City, and Chicago. As the author writes:

“Many Midwestern and Rust Belt cities with large African American populations also experienced golden ages of jazz in the middle of the 20th century—Kansas City, St. Louis, Pittsburgh, Indianapolis, and Cleveland among them—but their musical impact eventually faded. Meanwhile, Detroit continued punching above its weight class.”
(p. x)

This book deals with jazz specifically. Myriad other books, articles, and films have been devoted to Detroit’s Motown and rock offerings. Though there is some musical cross-pollinating where Motown is concerned, Stryker, to his credit and the book’s benefit, stays in the jazz lane.

The book is divided into six parts. “Setting the Stage” (~1900-1950) lays the initial groundwork for much of what follows, particularly regarding the automobile industry and its role in shaping Detroit’s public education system and black working and middle classes, as well as discussion of some early musical figures in and around the city. “The Golden Age, 1940-1960” gets into the real meat and potatoes, with over a dozen chapters, each covering a notable musical figure (e.g., Barry Harris, Yusef Lateef, Tommy Flanagan, Ron Carter, Curtis Fuller, Sheila Jordan, and more). “The Jones Brothers” discusses that remarkable triumvirate Hank, Thad, and Elvin. “Taking Control” explores some of the more communal and entrepreneurial musical developments in Detroit, including the Detroit Artists Workshop, the Strata Corporation, the Creative Arts Collective, and more. “Marcus Belgrave and His Children” dives into the music and legacy of Marcus Belgrave, one of the city’s patron saints of jazz who mentored many of Detroit’s more well-known contemporary exponents (e.g., Kenny Garrett, Rodney Whitaker, Geri Allen, Regina Carter, James Carter, and more). Lastly, “Tradition and Transition” takes stock of the health of both the city and its music of the last couple decades through early ~2019. Each chapter includes recording recommendations for the relevant artist or group.

As someone who grew up in Michigan, it was great to see how some of the more “local” or regional names fit into the larger musical and cultural tapestry. For example, laying all my cards on the table, I knew Marcus Belgrave was a longstanding musical and pedagogical institution in Detroit, having seen him at various masterclasses and concerts in college and elsewhere (annually leading and sitting in with myriad groups at Detroit Jazz Festival, sitting in with Wynton when he visited Detroit, etc.), but save for the occasional mention in a liner note when I’m getting a new (for me) album, it wasn’t always clear to me just how he fit into the larger puzzle beyond the Midwest. (Admittedly, perhaps it was my own ignorance.) I now have a much clearer understanding, thanks to Stryker’s work.

Stylistically, much of the book is weighted toward The Tradition, but that’s to be expected. After all, many of the figures discussed are known for styles steeped in the blues, swing, and bop (be- and post-). Even the more avant-garde folks who appear throughout, including bassist Jaribu Shahid, drummer Tani Tabbal, and pianist Craig Taborn, had a foot in more mainstream styles at one time or another. My only real quibbles with the book are extremely minor and subjective. For one, I was surprised to see Massive Attack labeled a rap group. (That said, as a fan, I was as surprised as anyone to see the group mentioned at all, and, admittedly, trip hop isn’t too widely known of a label.) Additionally, and it’s just because the album is a desert island disc for me, I would have included Chasin’ the Gypsy as a recommended James Carter album instead of either Heaven on Earth or Present Tense. But that’s me.

Selfishly, as a point of saxophonistic privilege, I must highlight one of my favorite passages. I was pleasantly surprised to learn of Joe Henderson’s training and that he studied with Larry Teal. More than that, though, I was floored to read of the following convergence of greatness. Talk about a pantheon of jazz and classical saxophone: “[Larry Teal’s] Tuesday morning lineup of students in 1956-57 was Yusef Lateef at 9:30, Henderson at 10:00, and Donald Sinta at 10:30.” (p. 132) A real murderers’ row!

If you’re at all into jazz, history, or Detroit culture, I highly recommend Jazz from Detroit. Mark Stryker knocked this one out of the park. I only hope there’s a sequel of sorts in the future.

Recommended Reading:
Perhaps to whet your appetite if you’re still wondering whether or not you should read Jazz from Detroit, I highly recommend these excellent interviews of Stryker conducted by Ethan Iverson for Do The M@th: here and here.

Fandom: Here, There, and Back Again

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I attended the second night of Tool’s two-night run at Toronto’s Scotiabank Arena last Tuesday, and it proved to be far more consequential than expected.

The last time I saw the band was nearly eight years ago in January 2012. That Toledo, OH show was a bit underwhelming. Danny, Adam, and Justin were at the top of their game, collectively and individually, but Maynard seemed disinterested at best. To say nothing of his blasé vocals throughout, he was the last one on the stage and the first one off. Sure, people have off nights (myself included, not that I’m in the same league), and the show wasn’t bad overall. But what a bummer, especially after a long drive, the cost of the ticket and merchandise, and having not seen the band for several years before that. It was disheartening. I mean, I’ve seen less-than-great shows before by many bands—some downright bad (yes, Iron Maiden, thinking of you)—but not by an artist or group I hold in such high regard. More than that, as lame as I know it seems, as a fan I took it personally. And it festered.

Following that, I continued to listen to and love the band’s music, but a part of me did it at a distance. Some months after I moved from East Lansing to Buffalo, I passed up trying to see the band in either Rochester, Hamilton, or Detroit during the brief 2017 run. Even though I had a lot going on in my life at the time and didn’t need another event on my plate, I know that had that 2012 show gone differently then I wouldn’t have thought twice about whether to attend in 2017. (I would’ve been there without question.) But I had a chip on my shoulder and considered my passivity an act of defiance, particularly for a band that tours so infrequently. (My ~15 shows in 22 years is notable only because of that infrequency.) I thought that, if nothing else, I had a lot of good shows under my belt and didn’t need to go out on a limb at that time. Plus, it’s not like my emotional investment in the band was a waste. After all, that May 2001 show at Detroit’s State Theater is arguably my favorite concert I’ve attended. It’s in my top 3 or 5 (of everything) at least.

Even in 2019 I was hesitant, more so than in previous years. When Fear Inoculum, the band’s first album in thirteen years, was officially announced, I was skeptical. Would it be worth the wait? Should I even bother with the expensive deluxe packaging of the studio album or just buy it digitally? Will the live show be worth not only the wait but also the expense? I knew I’d go to a show if the opportunity presented itself, but there was a part of me that felt obliged to do so. Partially out of principle, but also out of procrastination, I avoided really listening to the album’s title track before the album’s release. (It was made available to stream weeks in advance.) I considered it best to just hear the entire album with fresh ears once available. Coincidentally, Fear Inoculum was released the same day as Bon Iver’s i,i. (Also coincidentally, I saw Bon Iver at the same venue as Tool ~6 weeks ago.) When I made a trip to the store that day, I knew immediately upon seeing Fear Inoculum and its oversized packaging that I had to go big or go home. If nothing else, I had well over two decades of emotional investment to honor, which outweighed my weird little grudge. (Yes, I wore it like a crown…)

Skittish, I listened to i,i first that day. But eventually…

I listened to Fear Inoculum. Then I listened again. And again.

My boys were back, I thought. I really liked it the first time through. By the second listen I loved it. And more with each full listen. Hot damn. A lot of hype surrounded the album. Not only was it the first album in over a decade—many of us fans thought it’d never happen—but there was also seemingly endless discussion about how it was a big album (the shortest song being over ten minutes long) that covered new ground for the band. Plus, given the amount of time that had passed since 2006’s 10,000 Days and Fear Inoculum, there was a lot of concern that the band just wasn’t as invested as before, not to mention the music industry itself being a whole different beast than it was in 2006. But I wasn’t the only one who got sucked in. Enough people did for Tool to dethrone Taylor Swift on the Billboard charts.

But the hesitancy remained. The tour was announced and I didn’t try to get a close seat. Furthermore, I figured I’d play it safe and only go to one of the Toronto shows instead of both. I considered writing a full album review, going so far as to start multiple drafts but abandoning them.

Without making this a full album review, suffice it to say that it’s a great next step in the band’s evolution. There’s been some back-and-forth among the fans as to whether it’s heavy enough, but I think that misses the mark some. Maynard’s vocal stylings aren’t as aggressive as in previous albums, but instrumentals certainly contend with the rest of the catalogue. The blending of those two aspects is part of the band’s secret sauce. Tool was never going to release a direct-to-video sequel to Undertow, so it’s lame to hear when people expect it. (Just as Miles wasn’t going to treat his audiences to an acoustic rendition of “My Funny Valentine” after 1970.) As far as a review is concerned, right now I’ll note that if you like Lateralus‘s “The Patient” (as I do—one of my favorites from the band’s output), then Fear Inoculum is right up your alley. For me, “Pneuma” and “7empest” are the album’s MVPs.

Then Tuesday came. And the band DELIVERED. The boys are indeed back, and I still float on a cloud when I think of it. Some thoughts on the show, in no particular order:
• The band was TIGHT. Everyone, including Maynard, was locked in and the ensemble worked as one unit.
• Maynard seemed as into the performance as his bandmates. I dare say he even seemed jovial at times in his own way, interacting with the others on stage as well as the audience.
• The sound mix was excellent. That particular Tool concert may have been the best the band has sounded live. Even with it being so very loud (always wear your earplugs), everything was crystal clear. Considering Tool’s wide dynamic range and sudden juxtapositions, this really put things in welcome relief.
• Justin’s bass really cut through the texture in a tasteful way. Sometimes bass guitar can be muddled in such an environment, but thanks to the live mix it was clear as a bell.
• The phone ban was a dream come true. (Kudos to the arena’s staff for strict enforcement.) It’d been years since I’d watched an arena show with an audience that was free of phone screens due to photos and video. Of course, I do admit to taking one photo for posterity when the ban was lifted during the final song, but it was otherwise lovely to just take in the show without such distractions.
• The set list was an interesting mix, and only one song from 1992’s Opiate and 1993’s Undertow combined was included. “Part of Me” was such a surprise and a real treat. It was only the second time I’d heard that live, I think. Given the band’s penchant for mostly static set lists for a single tour, I’m glad I completely avoided looking up the shows prior to mine. Each song was an unexpected turn. (Consequently I won’t post the set list here.)
• “The Pot” hit me like a ton of bricks. For whatever reason, that had long been for me the weak link on 10,000 Days. Chalk it up to the euphoria from that night’s rekindling of the flame if nothing else, but I’ve been making up for lost time with that song over the last week.
• It never ceases to impress me that a band can rock such a large crowd so hard for two hours and yet only one six-minute song is in a continuous, steady 4/4 time.
• Some tweaking of the older material was a nice touch. For example, the extended jam during “Jambi” and the extended double-time during the bridge in “Schism.” (I thought Danny’s drumset would explode.) I did miss the “Suspicious Minds” interpolation in “Stinkfist,” but you can’t have it all.

All this is to say that my Tool fandom has gained a second wind of sorts. Not that it ever went away. Certainly not. But since the show I’ve been caught off guard at just how much it affected my spirits and how I see my relationship to the band’s music. It’s refreshing to know that after so many years I can still get that giddy, deeply connected feeling to it. And, without question, I now can’t wait for the next show.

Though the band didn’t perform it at last week’s show, it’s only fitting I include a live video of “The Grudge,” this from ’02. The lyrics are here.

MT-Headed Blog

Musical thoughts and ramblings by Michael Teager