Samba on Saturday Afternoon With the Black Ball Carnaval Group (Cordão da Bola Preta)!

Saturday in Rio.

Around noon, I gave my friend Jorge Filho a lesson on the MacBook Pro I brought down for him as contraband...Macs here are very, very expensive. After about ninety minutes of crash training, we called it quits since we were both feeling a bit hungry.

Lesson finished, I had to have my first feijoada of the trip; hopefully the first of four or five. Feijoada is a traditional Brazilian dish of black beans (ususally), a variety of smoked and or salted meats from cow and pig, served with rice, collard greens, orange slices (for digestion...ha, as if...), crisply fried pork skin or belly and a kind of toasted meal made from the manioc root, cooked with butter and sometimes scrambled egg. It is delicious, habit forming and very filling...especially after eating about three or four pounds worth in one sitting! I'm sure I've done that! It can be debilitating if not careful!!!!

So I'd planned to have  my feijoada at a corner bar in the Lapa neighborhood, then head over to another feijoada party (feijoada optional) which principally featured live samba bands which was located at the headquarters of Rio's oldest street carnaval group (called a cordão), the Cordão da Bola Preta. They organize a big street parade which rambles through a certain neighborhood of Rio during Carnaval time....thousands participate, and these groups tend to be more democratic, in some ways, than the larger samba schools which comprise the enormous, showy parades which make it on TV during the two days before Fat Tuesday. My kind of party group!!!

Alas, when I arrived at choice number one, it was closed unexpectedly, so I had to quickly think on my feet. Ok, clearly the choice was to partake of the feijoada at the samba joint—the Cordão da Bola Preta—which was close by. It was nearly 2:30 pm when I finally found it, and I was starving.

I paid my six buck cover (10 Brazilian reais...the REAL [pronounced "hay-ALL"] is made plural by dropping the L and replacing it with an I, then adding the S...linguistic craziness of Portuguese), and entered the CBP's headquarters. I got in line for the feijoada buffet and suffered through the 20 or so minutes it took—though it seemed like hours—to get to the food. I received a plate full of food, and headed into the main hall where the music was to sit and eat. Only one problem. There were no empty tables. So I went to one end of the place and headed back, when, about halfway back to the starting point, a guy grabbed me and said to his friends at his table (where there was an empty chair), "This guy has already been all the way through the room and hasn't found a seat. Let's let him sit with us!?!"

Carnaval mural at the CBP HQ

And so I was invited to share their table, and was I ever glad. It would have been very difficult to have eaten this chow while standing up. Not impossible, but not pleasant.

Well, it turns out the guy who extended this kindness turned out to be one of the directors of the Cordão da Bola Preta! Lucky me!  I seem to always be able to stumble onto things like this...see last year's blog for my meetings with Martin Sheen and Henry Winkler in Spain and Italy, respectively. Eduardo was very friendly and I mentioned that I produced the largest Brazilian Carnaval ball in the USA and his eyes lit up. In a few minutes I was introduced to the President of the CBP and handed his card. I was a VIP in minutes!

VP of Velha Guarda do Estácio

Then I struck up a conversation with the old black gent sitting to my left...especially after he started offering my generous pours from the communal beer bottles (Antarctica, my Brazilian beer of choice).  I didn't catch his name—I'm really bad at that—but we had a nice chat. Well, it turns out this guy is the vice-president of the Velha Guarda of the escola de samba (samba school) Estácio de Sá, the oldest Carnaval samba school (these are like the krewes of New Orleans Mardi Gras) in Rio. The Velha Guarda is the Old Guard, guys who have been at the samba and carnaval game since dinosaurs roamed the earth. He was, in his day, a passista, or dancer, and was, at some point, the lead male dance figure of the escola. Very cool.  He told me he started participating in Carnaval in 1946, but I forgot to ask him what age he was then. I think he is now about 70-something; he told me that, at least.

When I told him of my Brazilian party in Austin, HIS eyes lit up and he went over and grabbed the leader of the samba band which was now on break. He introduced me to him because he thought I might be interested in hiring them to play in the States.

Kid playing tamborim

Now, this band which played most of the afternoon, was composed of members of HIS escola, Estácio de Sá, so of course he was interested in hooking me, an important music producer from the US of A, up with these guys from his school.

We talked for a bit, he took my business card, and then dragged over a few more important members of the band. (I have already received an email from them...they want to set up a meeting so we can talk about some sort of tour of the US!!!!) Then they went back to business and played another couple of hours. More or less.

So I shot some video and some still photos and had a great time watching this amazing gathering.

What was interesting was the total lack of any sort of demographic pigeon-holing. The ages ran from four or so to eighty something. Black. White. Brown. Tan. And Very White, that would be me! Brazil is like that. Music and such events attract people from all ages and races, and they all get involved with equal enthusiasm in the party. Everyone knows the words to all the songs, and certain songs induce some sort of mass euphoria which I have NEVER seen in the USA. Never. People grin from ear to ear, sing along with the band, dance, either on the dance floor, or at their tables. And people start hugging each other expressing their happiness with the atmosphere, the music and the camaraderie. It is really amazing and inspiring. Why don't we have this in the US?  (Other than football fans singing The Eyes of Texas, or some other such hollow sorts of community spirit....)

Here is a little video of my new friends, the samba band Turma do Estácio (the gang from Estácio)—




When the Estácio guys finished, some awards were handed out to significant contributors to the Cordão.

And then they brought out the heavy artillery.

This was in the form of part of the drum group—the batería—of the samba school Acadêmcos do Salgueiro, one of Rio's most popular escolas de samba. These ostentatious, yet exciting, groups participate in the big, showy parades, competitions, really, in the days leading up to Ash Wednesday. This is BIG business, and very serious. The escolas parade in groups of several thousand, and the drum section alone can surpass 400 members!!!  On this day, Salgueiro only sent a couple dozen players, and a handful of their passistas—dancers, remember?

Austin's own samba school, the Acadêmicos da Ópera, who perform with about 100 members at my little shindig, are greatly influenced by this escola. I could even hear it in the drumming.

So, the Salgueiro folks did their thing. I was exhausted just watching them. But it was very satisfying, and a great way to enjoy a Saturday afternoon in the midst of truly fun-loving people, some fantastic food, some spellbinding music, and to meet some new pals.

If anyone needs to hire a great samba group from Rio, and is willing to pay their airfare to Austin, and to run the gauntlet through US Immigration to get them their travel visas, give me a shout. I have a great contact and will be meeting them soon!

Here are the passistas and batería from GRES Acadêmicos do Salgueiro!!!!

Pizza Hut in Rio...A (Bad) Sign of the Times :(

There was a time when I would have done anything to have a lunch in Rio de Janeiro. Or a dinner. The food was so honest, rich and flavorful. And very inexpensive. Rio had its own style of food, yeah, lots of beans and rice, but great seafood, wonderful meats, understated desserts, plenty of cheap, cold beer, and, almost always, a very home-grown ambience in just about every restaurant and cafe.

Well, those days are fading fast. No question the old-style eats are still around, but they don't seem to be of the same level of quality as they used to be, the portions smaller, the prices higher. Yeah, they still exist.

However, what frightens me is that more and more foreign, mostly from the good ol' USA, chains are opening up. Within a few minutes of my hotel, which is located in a very un-touristy part of town, are a Domino's Pizza, a Subway, a KFC and a McDonalds, among others I can't recall.

And last night I read a review in Brazil's largest news magazine, Veja, of a Pizza Hut in Rio. And it wasn't just a review, it featured a "call out" with a giant photo of a nasty, grotesque Pizza Hut pizza, which seems identical to the billion pizzas they serve every year in the US.  Gross, some of the worst pizza I've ever had (long story as to why I ever tried it...).  The review praised PH's wonderful pizzas, the crusts, the toppings, everything. Not once did they even mention the ridiculous prices for such imported tastelessness: how about THIRTY DOLLARS for a large supreme????!!!!!  You have to be kidding???!!!  Now, I don't know if PH coupons Rio like they do at home where anyone paying "rack rates" for PH pizza is an idiot, when, with a coupon you can get a pizza for about half or even one-third the MSRP. Nope, I doubt they offer such enticements here. Sadly, Cariocas have been duped again by American crap. They happily pay astronomical prices for some of the world's worst pizza, just because it is branded with a "famous" name from Gringolandia. On an online food forum, I saw a reader's comment about this very PH in Rio which proclaimed that the PH pie was "the most spectacular pizza I've ever eaten."

Pelo amor de deus!!!!

Are you kidding? The most spectacular pizza?  Now, what makes this idolization of America's contribution to the growing heap of the world's worst food is that Brazil actually has some fantastic pizza. Admittedly, the pizza in São Paulo is far better than in Rio, but still, Rio has some pretty decent pizza, and it's found all over the city. To simply discard this native pizza for something clearly inferior just because it comes from the USA is sad, ignorant and doesn't bode well for the traditional cuisine, including pizza, of this great city.

On that same web-based food forum, I read a discussion of another import, Outback Steakhouse, which is taking Brazil by storm. What is funny is that they think the food is Australian! Ignoring the fact that Outback is an American fantasyland theme restaurant chain based in Tampa, Florida!!!! Is their proximity to DisneyWorld just a coincidence? I think not!  Again, the absurdity is that Rio is generously peppered with home-grown restaurants which feature damn good steaks and other cuts of beef, pork, etc. I guess their weakness is not having a "bloomin' onion" on their traditional menus. Ahh, Australian food at it's peak!!!!

This obsession with things Gringo extends to just about every aspect of life here. And it ain't good. I saw a t-shirt worn by a twenty-something female last Saturday night which said on the front, something like:

"My project of Friday

is finished.

Now I'm ready for the good

fuck."

On the back was printed a gigantic ladybug, outlined in glitter! Very girly. Totally ridiculous. I couldn't figure out who this shirt was marketed to. The ladybug eliminated the grunge crowd. The language on the front threw out the kids' market. So, do buyers just not know what the front says? Do they think it's funny? What is this????

The inventory of other such silly-gismic shirts is seemingly infinite. As I see others, I'll report back. Yeah, I know we have incorrectly used Italian, French, etc printed on t-shirts in the USA. I've seen a few. And if I see the Italian plural of sandwich, "panini", used in the singular on a menu again, instead of the correct form for ONE sandwich, "panino", I may go postal. But I am pretty certain that, on the whole, Americans are not obsessed with Italy, France, or even Brazil, the way Brazilians pine over, and adopt the very worst of American cultural expression. Though we do a pretty good job of screwing up things when we do borrow....

Now, just to make my perspective clear: Americans are far more advanced in discarding the authentic expressions of their culture in favor of the paper-cutout versions of cuisine, music, film, clothing—for example—and being led by the nose by multinational corporations’ propaganda and brain washing. So most restaurants get prepackaged everything from the likes of Sysco instead of buying potatoes and peeling them in-house for mashed, fries or whatever. Even guacamole comes in a can for restaurants! This is true even in many, perhaps MOST mom+pop cafes and restaurants. One day at the legendary, but very basic, small town BBQ joint Mueller's in Taylor, Texas, where they still make the sausage themselves, I saw a delivery guy drop off bags of precut coleslaw mix. That certainly burst a bubble or two. America, you should be proud of your advancement to a world of totally processed and prepackaged cuisine! Congratulations. You are now exporting your great evolutionary wisdom to the rest of the world.

Now that I've pissed off all the Brazilians (and many Americans too), I'm gonna close. Will have another post soon lauding one of Brazil's best forms of cultural expression: SAMBA!!!

Deja Vu In Rio de Janeiro

Weird how things work sometimes. I swear this was not intentional, but I am back in Rio exactly one year to the day after my last visit. Even more weird: I am experiencing some of the exact same things, more or less, that I experienced last year on this trip. Or that trip. THIS is this trip. But it is already seeming like THAT trip. What a trip!  More on this soon.  (For a peek at why I am in Brazil, and what it means to me, see my first post from THAT other trip:  http://sambamaster.blogspot.com/2009/10/portland-to-rio.html )

I left Portland on Thursday morning, and, until I reached Miami, everything went surprisingly well. All my flights were on time, even a few minutes early. Even the Portland mass transit trip to the airport was on time for a change. But when I reached Miami and saw that my 11:30pm flight to Rio would leave at 12:30am, I was a bit disheartened. But an hour late isn't terrible, so I went to the john, did my thing, then rechecked the airport monitor to see if, perhaps, my flight had been rescheduled to be a bit earlier than midnight and a half.

Fuck. No!  I can't believe this.

The monitor thumbed its nose at me:  2 AM!!!!!!

Two in the morning!  The flight was now going to be two and a half hours late. Fuck! again.

So I decided to get some beer to calm my shattering nerves, and to find something decent to eat...it was almost 11pm.

(At this point in writing this entry, my internet connection went down. Actually, I had already written several more paragraphs...and now, I can't remember what they said, and you are already bored reading this so far...so.... I'm picking this up the next day to finish it and post it.)

Let's say I found a lousy burger....and two Sam Adams Lagers. And, then????!!!! What? Again? Now the flight was scheduled to leave at 2:30. Hey what's another 30 minutes at 3am, when you are already nearly three hours late?  At least they didn't cancel the flight!

We actually left the ground at 3:30AM!!!  An hour sitting in the plane after pushing back from the gate. Waiting for clearance to leave an absolutely dead airport. What was that about?

Escaped the Rio airport, which is named after Antonio Carlos Jobim, one of the "founders" of bossa nova, and composer of many of your favorite elevator tunes. My pal Celso, aka Celsinho do Pandeiro, had been waiting there since 10:30...I'd tried to warn him with several emails from the Miami airport, but he didn't really pay attention to them.

Since it was so late, we skipped my traditional "arrival in Rio" lunch at Cafe Lamas because Celso (and I) were due at the broadcast studios of Rio's Radio Nacional for a live broadcast of which, he is the assistant producer.

The weekly live broadcast features the BEST choro group on the planet, Conjunto Época de Ouro, and Celso's pop and brother are in the group. For lovers of virtuoso guitar and other string instrument playing, these guys should be on your very short list. 

Here is a quote from my posting in early October of last year in this blog: 

Oh, the group: the very hallowed Conjunto Epoca de Ouro, the absolute best choro group

Jacob do Bandolim

in Brazil, i.e., the universe. They are celebrating 45 years of performing, even though only one original member is still playing. The group was formed by the legendary Jacob do Bandolim, Brazil's greatest-ever mandolin player whose career covered the 1940s through the late '60s. His field, called choro, is a fantastic, complex music which began sort of parallel to ragtime in the USA and some of the early piano recording even sound a bit like ragtime if you squint your ears while listening. Though it nearly disappeared after Jacob's death, his group, Epoca de Ouro, reformed somewhere around 1973 or so and, thanks to some exposure via some concerts with samba great Paulinho da Viola (whose dad, Cesar Faria was a founding member of EDO, as well as guitarist with Paulinho...the family ties here are gonna get confusing because two other founding members were the brothers of the last surviving member, Jorginho do Pandeiro who joined later, and Jorginho's son Jorge Filho is also a member of the group...Celso is also Jorginho's son....it gets even more complex, but we'll save that for another day...)

(For that entire post, see here! )

Epoca de Ouro Rehearsal

Anyway, we arrived in time, about 3pm, to witness a last minute rehearsal and sound check. I just love hearing these guys, and I must tell you that being able to know these folks, and to be able to hang out with them as I do makes me one of the luckiest humans alive. This is no exaggeration. The guys discussed adding some tunes to the show, argued about who gets to suggest songs for their repertoire, and then, MAGIC!  They took the stage in front of the small studio audience, and began to play. For two hours they displayed their art as listeners called in comments and requests. A live announcer stitched all this together, engaging each of the musicians between songs in banter about the music and their connections to it. Fascinating stuff. 

Celso, Jorge Filho and Jorginho do Pandeiro

We don't have anything like this on radio in the USA these days, a weekly show with the same group playing through an endless list of fantastic tunes. I was impressed by the number of calls they received, and the largely well-informed nature of the calls. They even received one from a former member of the group, the mandolin player who first took over Jacob do Bandolim's place in the band, Deo Rian. Nice. Anyway, this program is a throwback to the way radio used to be: all totally live, no recordings. And this very studio at Radio Nacional is where some of Brasil's greatest musicians used to entertain and promote their careers, people like Pixinguinha, Carmen Miranda, Lupicinio Rodrigues, Jacob do Bandolim, Luiz Gonzaga and just about anyone worth hearing from the mid-1930s through the 1950s. Amazing history, and the walls here could really tell some interesting stories, and play some of the best music ever made anywhere in the world. Damn! I am so lucky!

Ronaldo do Bandolim (Mandolin)

Toni Sete Cordas (Seven String Guitar Toni)

Antonio Rocha

I video taped (tape? what's that?  actually, video chipped in this case...on a tiny chip the size of a quarter) about an hour's worth of the two hour show. I will eventually edit these selections into a cohesive short film (film?), but for now, how about one song? This is Cochichando (Whispering, or, Buzzing), a classic choro composed by the greatest choro master of all time, Pixinguinha. By the way, this was a request phoned in by a listener, so they were not really prepared to play it, so watch how masterfully they handle this great piece of music! WATCH THIS THING!

Nice, huh? Did  you watch the video???

So we packed up the gear and headed to a place that used to be a favorite in Rio, the historic Cafe Lamas which first opened for business in 1874 or thereabouts. I've been a fan since my first visit in 1980 when a bohemian journalist friend, Aristélio Andrade introduced me to it. Lamas was a hangout of artists, bohemians and journalists...like Aristélio for decades and I just loved the ambience...so what does that make me???

Unfortunately, Lamas hasn't maintained the quality of their food, while the prices have absolutely skyrocketed. Celso, Jorge Filho, Jorginho do Pandeiro and I all were shocked by the prices. But we stayed, had some great conversation, some okay food, and decided never to return....Lamas served me well for thirty years, but I will now have to find another temple to those golden years of bohemian life in Rio de Janeiro. Any suggestions?

Twelve Inches of Pure Pleasure!

Originally I was writing in this blog only when I was traveling, assuming no one would care about any of my day-to-day thoughts. But since no one is reading it even when I'm on the road, what difference does it make? So I'll write for my own bemusement.

Here we go.

The other night I was listening to records, yes, the black vinyl ones, on my marvelous audio system. It was late, midnight, at least, and I was groovin' to Stravinsky's The Rite of Spring...several versions of that monumental work, in fact.

And as I put on what was the very first recording of that masterpiece that I had purchased, way back in early 1970, I had some fantastic flashbacks, well, vivid memories, surrounded by ponderings and deep (!) thoughts. I bought that record, a three-disc set in fact, in Houston at the very beginning of my 10-year career in retail record stores...while still in high school. The box was a collection of Stravinsky's three most famous ballets: The Firebird, Petrushka and The Rite of Spring, all conducted by Stravinsky himself. I remember that buying this set was a very big deal...THREE LPs! I think it retailed for about $14.99 and since I got the employee discount, it probably only set me back about ten bucks. But since I was making just $1.65 an hour, that constituted a full night of work—in those days I worked nights and Saturdays, twenty hours a week.

I remember listening to the records over and over, but with far more concentration on The Rite of Spring, because, honestly, it is a far better piece of music in my opinion—somehow I knew that even then. It is wild, crazy music that caused a small riot when it debuted in Paris in the early twentieth century. This fact, and of course, the music itself, really struck a chord with my young, rebellious soul. And, just like last week, I remember listening mostly late at night, after finishing my homework, an usually with the lights off. This was really moving stuff from the still-young Russian genius!

But I also recall listening with the lights on, reading over and over, the little booklet describing each of the works, largely in Stravinsky's own words. I did the exact same thing the other night. And as I did so, I was reminded again of a time long gone, when we all listened more seriously, or at least more intently, usually reading the album jacket repeatedly as the disc played for the third or fourth time, just home from the store, and fresh out of the shrink wrap. The twelve and a half-inch format of LP artwork just makes doing that more, well, doable, and so much more fun than squinting at the minuscule type on CD booklets. It just ain't the same. No way, no how.

I'm so happy that I was together enough as a kid to buy that Stravinsky box way back when, and that I played it only on good equipment...the discs are still in pretty much mint condition, more than forty years after the fact. Mint. Like minty.

And from that erupts a bit of musing about time.

I recall, when I was really getting into music and records, say about 1965, 1966, when my pop finally got his mom to let me explore the old Victrola in her house. In a little cubby behind one of its doors was a small collection of 78rpm discs, most of which belonged to my dad. I don't remember much about the titles, other than some bird call recordings, but they were pretty scratchy and a bit of a challenge to listen to on that machine. He explained that the records had been played with cactus needles during WWII because there was a shortage of steel to make the standard metal, but disposable needles. As a result, those discs had seem some wear and tear. My Grandmother promised that Victrola to me since my pop was its principal user and since she knew about my budding passion for music, but when she passed away, my aunt who lived with her and who was a bit confused about her mom's true wishes, granted it to one of my cousins. My mother told me to keep my mouth shut, which I have done since 1983........until NOW!!! The secret is out. That's my Victrola, Cousin Jimmy!

A Victrola Like My Grandmother's

But.

At that point—1966, let's say—these records and this Victrola were only about 30 years old!  But to me,  they seemed very much like pre-historic antiques! Delicate, kind of crappy sound, they seemed very, very old and out of date. But compared to today's memories of my Stravinsky box, not to mention my even older Beatles and Byrds records, they were still young! Now this strange perspective of time is very wild! Not only are my records older, in relative terms, but it seems like thanks to somewhat better technology over all, the music and the sound of these mid-60s classics hold up after all this time, yes, even the Beatles and Byrds and Spencer Davis Group LPs. Back in 1966, those Maurice Chevalier 78s, or whatever else my dad had around from the '30s,  sounded extremely dated, not just to me, I'm sure, but they surely even sounded odd to my dad, as familiar as the recordings were to him.

So what is that all about? Is time stretching? Is music getting better? Wait, I know THAT ain't true! It only gets worse year by year. So I guess time stretches somehow. Is it as we get older? Is it tied to climate change? Is everyone experiencing this, or is it just me?

Help! Someone tell me!

Ok, here's the finale, or, at least, you will be grateful, the cessation of this babbling. The first thing I did after getting my first record store job in January of my senior year in high school, 1970, was to drag the old man down to the local stereo shop so I could finally get the really good system I'd dreamed about for years! Until then I had been using 99-buck cheapo boxes from Sears, Penny's, wherever.  But we went to Home Entertainment, a shop on Kirby, not terribly far from our house and convinced him to co-sign on an installment note for a six-hundred dollar audio rig. By today's standards it would sound pretty bad, but to me, the Sansui receiver, the house-brand speakers and, above all, the classic AR turntable with its Shure M44 cartridge (fuck, how do I remember all that?) sounded like heaven in my bedroom.

The Original AR Turntable, A Classic!

Yes, somehow I knew that the manually operated AR turntable with nothing more than an on-and-off switch, was a far better choice than the snazzier automatic Duals and Garrards so popular back in the day--and, it cost much less to boot!  It is still a classic design, so simple, yet so elegant. People are always looking for them on eBay, so those AR guys must have been doing something right. It was all of eighty-nine bucks, new, in 1970.

Today, I am listening to much better audio equipment. But is no more complicated than that AR 'table. Less so, at least for my turntable which doesn't even have an on-and-off switch! It is a boutique-made Nottingham turntable from England designed by Tom Fletcher, a dixieland jazz player in England, probably in Nottingham! Ok, the tonearm is more complicated than the AR's, but not by much, and mostly in its ability to be a bit more finely tuned. But, still nothing automatic about it. It's a motor, a platter that spins on a bearing ( a finely engineered bearing though) and a nicely adjustable tonearm. I like the idea that the designer has a name, that he owned the company when I got the table (Tom got sick soon after I got mine and then sold the company), and that Mr. Fletcher himself insisted that his USA importer send me a sample table for review in JazzTimes in 2006. He never did that for other reviewers, but he said to his US reps, "This guy gets it. He knows it's about music, and he understands music." Or something to that effect. I was flattered. So I eventually had to buy the damn turntable because it totally changed my listening habits. No more CDs, LPs only.  I'm on my second Nottingham now, the first was fantastic, and more than adequat, but I decided to move up the line a tad to get even better sound.

Here's the Nottingham 294 Ace Space turntable I now own:

Nottingham 294 Ace Space Turnatable

The very first minute I cranked up that first Nottingham I was astonished with the realism of the sound, and I was instantly re-converted to the glories of LP sound. I rarely listen to CDs anymore. They don't sound so perfect after hearing the Nottingham. In fact, though I can still hear the music through the digital crud, they don't sound MUSICAL. Not like vinyl, and I have a $2500 CD player, not some circuit-city-sony-panasonic miracle box. LPs simply do sound better. Come over and I'll prove it. You WILL believe your ears! It's pretty cool!

Now, replacing that Sansui receiver and several other amps and preamps along the way, I now am the proud owner of a pair of handmade Shindo Corton-Charlamagne EL34 mono block amplifiers from Japan. As well, I have Mr. Shindo's Monbrison preamplifier which feeds the signal to the amps, which, in turn feed the music to my also handmade DeVore Fidelity Nine speakers which are made by my buddy John DeVore in his Brooklyn Navy Yard shop. Again, it's very satisfying knowing that my audio gear was thought up and made by individuals folks with whom I have some connection, and not some marketing committee in some tedious multinational electronics corporation. You know the ones, you own them, look at your television!

The Shindo Corton-Charlamagne EL34 Mono Block Amplifiers

My Shindo gear did not come off the rack in some warehouse, but instead, was built by Mr. Shindo and his son after I told the USA importer, Jonathan Halpern of Tone Imports, that I was craving some additional Shindo magic. A few weeks after I sent that monkey-on-my-back email, some boxes arrived on my front porch, directly from Mr. Shindo's enchanted cottage in Japan.

Did I mention that there are no transistors in Shindo's gear? No? Well, there is not a single one. Zip. Instead, he relies on the superior sound and musicality of old-fashioned vacuum tubes to cast his magical spells. Like the Nottingham, the designs are simple and time-proven. And they sound fucking amazing. Come over and I'll prove it to you! ( I really will!)

DeVore Fidelity Nines

John DeVore of DeVore Fidelity makes some of the very best loudspeakers in the USA, well, the world. No question. And they are not exorbitantly priced, but neither are they cheap. But for the money, they present such musical value that I can say that they possess few, if any, equals anywhere. No kidding. Again, simplicity. A box and three drivers...perfectly sized, positioned and implemented, all in a pretty little cherrywood box. John! I love you! Thanks for the endless hours of musical pleasure, you are a genius...just like Ken and Tom. How could I live without you three guys? You've made my life so much happier, so much better. It's just too bad not everyone gets to hear music the way I do.

But you could get close. Throw away the CDs. Get back to LPs. I promise you'll get so much closer to the performance of every disc you play.

(After I wrote this, I realized I forgot to mention that the record/music industry has, with each step forward in technology, made a giant stride away from the real, startling, hair-raising sound of the music, of the performance and of the performer. Thanks to Jonathan Halpern and John DeVore, I learned last year that those funky, old scratchy 78s, when played on decent equipment, trump the sound of even the best LPs. THAT was friggin' amazing.

And it's pretty well agreed that CDs do not capture the true essence of music the way LPs can. MP3s? Well, let's just say, sonically, they suck even more. Why are people satisfied with these decreases in quality of musical reproduction? Why do people like McDonald's? Ease and convenience, that's what I think.

For more on this idea of the sound of music getting worse with each "improvement" in technology, see this piece I penned for JazzTimes magazine a few years back: http://jazztimes.com/articles/17061-deep-listening.

Save your iPod for the gym, but leave it in your car when you get home. You won't be sorry if you have LPs spinning in YOUR livingroom...

Oh, here is my system in context. Pardon the mess!!!

The Audio System of Mike Quinn in Portland

Rio de Janeiro: Cuidado!!! I am coming back soon!

Just bought my ticket to head back to Rio. Will again get chances to hear live shows by Epoca de Ouro and Paulinho da Viola. And will work hard to get the recording we produced in 2001 of Epoca de Ouro, the last to feature Dino Sete Cordas and César Faria, released independently in Brasil and/or the USA.

Looking forward to great food, great music and great amizade (friendships).

Funny thing: I was just talking about this yesterday. The worst coffee I've had in a very long time was on my trip to Rio last year!  Brazil!!!  What has happened to your coffee?????

Ok. More on this soon...

In the meantime, here is the Japanese cover of the CD in question. It has apparently sold pretty well, but we have gotten no figures...the music biz in Japan is a shady as in any other country.

Conjunto Epoca de Ouro, recorded Aug 2001, released, finally, April 2010!

The Fabled 4-Day Chinese Food Orgy in Richmond and Vancouver, British Columbia

Just spent a long weekend in the Greater Vancouver area indulging in some of the great Chinese y'all have to offer. It was pretty overwhelming, and we could have used an extra week...just to skim the surface. There is just way to much to explore, and 4 days are just not enough.

My old high school bud Jim Scheppke was driving his son Daniel back to his third year at the University of British Columbia and invited me to go along for the ride...and for the food. I was not sure I wanted to invest the long drive for only a few days of eating, but finally said I would join in on the fun. So on a Wednesday afternoon, we all piled in to Jim's loaded-down-with-college-kid-supplies Honda Fit (not a very large car) and off we went. We spent the night in Seattle (actually Des Moines) at Jim's mother's house...I've known these folks since I was 15, and I always considered Dorothy to be about the best of my friends' moms, and she's still very spry, and very, very involved in Democratic politics.

Early on Thursday, we were off for Vancouver, Jim drove, I played DJ and Daniel slept and listened to his iPod in the backseat. As soon as we arrived, we started eating, and we didn't stop until Sunday afternoon with one quick dip into the lamb kebabs of the Xi'an Cuisine food stall of the Richmond Public Market. By then, I was ready to avoid Chinese food for a long time! Yeah, we had burgers in the other Vancouver, just north of Portland, Sunday night. Nice change of pace.

So, what did we eat? Won't get into deep details on any particular meals, but here are some highlights. We hit, among others, the following: Richmond Public Market (Xi'an Cuisine, Xin Jiang Delicious Food), Crystal Mall (Northern Meixi Fast Food, Wang's Shanghai Cuisine and Want Want Hot & Spicy House), Nine Dishes, Bushuair (Hunan) "O'Tray Noodles, Chuan Xiang Ge (Sichuan).

We agreed that the best overall meal was the mostly Hunan stuff we had at Bushuair Restaurant, though negotiating that weird menu is truly a challenge for those who do not speak or read Chinese. But we did ok and really enjoyed the smoked pork belly dish, some great pickled long beans with pork, the Mao's Favorite braised pork belly and a great rendition of the Sichuan chicken dish variously called ChongQing or 1000-chile Chicken. The prickly ash/sichuan peppercorns they used were the most pungent numbing examples I've ever had (and the next night, we had the same peppercorns at Nine Dishes...they are covered with little white spots, unlike any I've seen before...anyone have any idea where to get those? If at Nine Dishes sent us to Rice World, but I don't think we found those specific buds...though they were included in an impulse-buy bag of spicy peanuts, obviously from Sichuan, I picked up at the cash register...help!!!).

Had the Jian Bing at O'Tray Noodles, President Plaza, and that was nice, but actually, one of the highlights of the whole trip was the bowl of "tofu pudding" I got to fill out my breakfast menu. It was savory, deeply flavored, complex and just plain yummy. Not totally sure what was in it, but chile oil and sesame oil or paste seemed to be part of the mix. So simple, yet so complex! Get this!!!

Xi'an Cuisine was nice, but, honestly, and I can say this generally speaking about most of what we had on this trip, that there were few WOW!!! moments of transcendent food. In NYC/Flushing, I have many of these "Holy Crap! I want more of that" sort of experiences...the now famous Xi'an place in Flushing is a good example: his cold noodle dish is far more interesting, more flavorful, more satisfying to the palate, and he includes some house-made gluten cubes in the mix. And his lamb and pork burgers are better than any we had on this trip, except maybe the lamb version at Want Want Hot & Spicy House at the Crystal Mall...those were superb, the bread was absolutely fresh, the lamb perfectly cooked and seasoned. The Sichuan stalls and restaurants in Flushing (NY) seem to offer more vibrant flavors and renditions of all the stuff sampled on this pig-out. These are just my opinions and I don't want to imply that the food in Vancouver was not amazing...it was. And the variety is astonishing. Just not enough wow-factor to my tastebuds.

Nine Dishes was a great experience. The food is ok, but it was fun just soaking up the scene there, and the charisma of the Big Boss Man, Mr. If. Very cool. the Sichuan sausage was fantastic, the water boiled fish was good, but was lacking any broth (water) and seemed to be 99% oil in which the fish and chiles were floating...still good though! And you can't beat his $2 beers!

I would like to go back to Chuan Xiang Ge and sample more of their menu, the food was very good, but 3-4 dishes are not enough to get the total picture. Would also like to try other Sichuan-centric restaurants since that cuisine appeals to me, a displaced Texan, the most. The cold chicken with chile garlic sauce appetizer was my personal favorite here.

Went to several markets and grocery stores: Rice World, T&T, Big Crazy and an Indian place somewhere in east Richmond....all yielded some great finds. Vancouver folks are lucky to have such wonderful places to shop nearby. In Portland, Oregon where I currently reside, most markets are owned by SE Asians, and the selections are light on hard-core Chinese, especially Sichuan, ingredients. I now need more of those peanuts, so will have to drive back up just to get those!

I'm including a link to a little video tribute I shot during the trip. For the best resolution, change the 360p setting on the progress bar to 480p....




I'd like to thank my online Vancouver food gurus for their great tips, reviews and comments: Dylan, fmed and Ben (and his ChowTimes site); they lead us to all of these great places. Can't imagine covering so much ground without their guidance....how did we do this in pre-Internet days???

Vancouver, I'll be back soon! Save some food for me!

A rather amusing, but XXX-rated Chinese menu

I found this a few years ago and have decided to share after a 4-day orgy of Chinese food in Vancouver and Richmond, British Columbia where I saw a fair version of hilarious mis-translations....one of which follows this jewel! (Click to see a readable version of these.)