A collection of work from the writer, Anthony Dean-Harris, on culture, jazz, media, art, etc.
The Line-Up for 6 March 2020 and evölve for 7 March 2020
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The Line-Up is an hour of modern jazz music that airs Friday nights at 9pm CST on 91.7 FM KRTU San Antonio.
evölve is two hours of modern jazz music that airs Saturday afternoons from 3-5pm CST on 91.7 FM KRTU San Antonio.
The Line-Up for 6 March 2020 Gregory Porter - If Love Is Overrated Space Ghost - Porco Elsa Nilsson - Worth the Risk/Maria Antoine Berjeaut & Makaya McCraven - The New Untitled (Potomac Avenue) Liberty Ellman - Rubber Flowers Hiatus Kaiyote - Nakamarra Bendaur's Double Rainbow Mix Remix) Jimmy Greene - Always There Tim Berne's Snakeoil - Surface Noise Broken Shadows - Civilization Day Blacks' Myths - Northern Confederate Teebs - _for phil Kamasi Washington - Show Us the Way evölve for 7 March 2020 Michael Wolff - Chill Space Ghost - Starship 2091 Eric Alexander - The Thrill Is Gone Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra with Wynton Marsalis - Teru Jonti - Flesh of Morning Joey Alexander - We Here feat. Anne Drummond Lafayette Harris Jr. - Wonder Why Captain Murphy - Hovercrafts and Cows Jeremy Pelt - Then I'll Be Tired of You Gregory Porter - If Love Is Overrated Flying Lotus - tree tunnels3 Kenny Barron/Dave Holland Trio with Jonathan Blake - Pass It On Yelena Eckemoff - Fox feat. Jon Christensen Karriem Riggins - daooooh!! Liberty Ellman - Rubber Flowers Nina Simone - Liberian Calypso Makaya - A New Movement Shabaka and the Ancestors - Go My Heart, Go to Heaven Gil Scott-Heron and Makaya McCraven - New York is Killing Me Tycho - Hours Tim Berne's Snakeoil - Surface Noise Broken Shadows - Toy Dance Toro y Moi - Sweet Matt Mayhall - The Fanatics Elsa Nilsson - Hindsight Gold Panda - S950 Kamasi Washington - Truth
A good friend of mine sent me an article that he wanted me to blog about. Frankly, I had a lot on my mind at the moment to write here and I'll be sure to have those ideas here soon, but after sitting with the idea for a little while, this post sort of wrote itself in my head. What is a rather shocking, terrible subject just sort of came out as preposterously humorous to me. I hope you share the same sentiment, otherwise this may get a little uncomfortable. ---------------------------------------------------- Richard Whitehurst of Columbus, Ohio, is working on his next artistic piece to open at the William Strunk, Jr. Museum of Contemporary Art in Akron. This piece is... get ready now... The Rape Tunnel . Those who crawl into the 22-foot long, steadily shrinking tunnel will eventually find themselves in a small room in which Whitehurst will do all he can to rape those who cross his one-way path. Ooooooooooeeeeeeeeeeooooooooooooo Whitehurst claims he's undertaking this work...
I've been in Portland for a little over six and a half months, testing all the waters, getting all the sealegs. Nothing quite enforces the idea of radio being the medium all about the now with a job where everything changes so constantly. It's been a bubble unto itself that gets to isolate me to some degree from everything else in the world, and for that I'm entirely grateful. Nothing has stayed the same from month to month and I'm rolling with the tide and trying, in all things, to slow down. My time at KMHD gave me the time and ability to pull off something I realized I haven't done in nine years-- write a longread travelogue about a music festival. I'm forever haunted by projects I've failed to complete about travels past like heists gone wrong-- Montreal, New Orleans. I cherish my loving ramblings, my verbal snapshots of moments long past-- cold, expensive New York the first time around ; the most professionally fulfilling week I've ever felt in swee...
It happened the way one would expect it to happen in a movie. I'm a middle-aged man with a particular set of skills, renowned in certain corners but technically on the outs, when I got a call out of the blue about a life-changing opportunity where I'd uproot my life for a shot at the brass ring, even if it has its own complications. Of course, if this were a movie, the call would have been a guy flying in on a helicopter and landing in the park across the street from my previous home in San Antonio, with my boss walking up my long driveway, taking off his sunglasses, hair tousled in the wind, and starting with "You're a hard man to find", but a phone call out of the blue also sufficed. Last year around this time, I was stuck in a rut. I had gotten the job I thought I wanted managing the adorable hot spring bath house resort/craft beer & wine bar on the Southside of San Antonio, Texas, that my landlord spent years dreaming into reality. People found it charming...
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