Liberated Brother: Weldon Irvine

“I wanted to give you more than you can get from reading liner notes,” says the Brooklyn-based filmmaker, Victorious DeCosta, who devoted four years to making a documentary on the enigmatic jazz-funk legend Weldon Irvine. 

“I wanted it to probe the emotions of Weldon and the emotions of artists who are forgotten," DeCosta says. "I think it’s a story that plays well because you don’t need to be an artist, or a jazz head, to dig and relate to [it].”

Digging for Weldon Irvine is a powerful and affecting look at a chameleonic talent who co-wrote "To Be Young,Gifted and Black," and whose 40-year music journey found him exploring the spectrum of African American music. The late jazz improviser was a searching soul— at age 50, he reinvented himself as a rapper, “Master Well,” and collaborated with Mos Def and Talib Kweli.

For Richmond Magazine, I recently had the chance to interview DeCosta, and talk about his excellent film. You can read the piece right here. 

And you can find out more about Digging for Weldon Irvine by clicking this spot. 

(Photo courtesy Victorious DeCosta) 

An Open Letter to Pharrell

Richmond Magazine arts editor Craig Belcher and I have written a friendly letter to Pharrell Williams about his -- ah -- borrowing of our big Virginia Music concert idea for his Something in the Water Festival in April.

Why stop there, Mr. Williams? What about our Virginia Music Hall of Fame and Museum idea too? (And where are our comp tickets? It's the least you can do.)

Read the letter on the Richmond magazine website right here.

As far as our Rich Mag cover feature with the cool ideas, it recently copped a first place Virginia Press Association award for Best Arts Writing. Kudos to Craig and me. Read that award-winning pitch here and here and here.

(Photo of a waterlogged copy of the inspirational issue by the mighty Heather Palmateer)

Virginia Music Hall of Fame: Making The Case

Alabama has a state music museum, as does Rhode Island. The neighbors in North Carolina too. Oklahoma not only has a music hall of fame, it has an Oklahoma Jazz Hall of Fame. Virginia's musical legacies arguably run wider and deeper than any of those places.

In the September issue of Richmond Magazine, I make the case for why the time is long overdue for a real, honest-to-goodness, diverse, lively Virginia Music Hall of Fame and Museum. And not just something on the side of the road with a bunch of old instruments but an institution that would pay ongoing tribute to homegrown legends, and maybe make some new music history.

I'm just scribbling ideas on napkins here. Read my argument by clicking this spot.

And go here and read the details on what such an institution would look like, and what it could do. 

(Illustration by the mighty Bob Scott!)

Virginia Music Hall of Fame: The Blueprint

Roanoke has a pinball museum, Arlington can boast a museum that honors the Drug Enforcement Agency, and there's a place in  Colonial Heights that pays homage to tractors and farming equipment. Virginia has a Sports Hall of Fame and a Communications Hall of Fame. There's a spot in Harrisonburg that honors Virginia quilting culture, and there also exists a (what?) Charlottesville Business Hall-of-Fame. 

All of that, and Virginia still don't have an official museum or hall of fame dedicated to its music. 

Alabama has a state music museum, as does Rhode Island. The neighbors in North Carolina too. Oklahoma not only has a music hall of fame, it has an Oklahoma Jazz Hall of Fame (believe it or not). West Virginia? You've got to be kidding me. Virginia's musical legacies arguably run wider and deeper than any of those places. 

In the September issue of Richmond Magazine (on newsstands now), I make the case for why the time is long overdue for a real, honest-to-goodness, diverse, lively Virginia Music Hall of Fame and Museum. And not just something on the side of the road with a bunch of old stuff but an institution that would pay ongoing tribute to homegrown legends, and maybe make some new music history.

But what would such a place look like? For this online extra, I get into the weeds, scribble on some napkins and outline just what an official Virginia Music Hall of Fame and Museum might look like. It's a daydream, sure, but let me dream. 

Read "The Blueprint" by going here. 

Read the rest by buying the September issue of Richmond Magazine (print lives!) or watching this space. 

Richmond Folk Festival: It's Diatribe Time!

To Whom It May Concern:

I consider myself a pretty fair-minded guy. I don't normally go around looking to tell people how to live their lives or do their business -- unless it's my daughter and it's homework time. I'm told I can be pretty tenacious when I want to know something, or when I feel that some public figure is hiding something that they have a public obligation to reveal. As a journalist, I can be kind of weird about all that. But as a guy just walking around, living the life and shooting the shoot, I don't go looking to scold or foist my feelings on people willy-nilly. Maybe I did when I was much younger but not so much these days.

So it really pains me -- causes me heartbreak and makes me almost break out in a rash -- to have to tell certain people who attend the Richmond Folk Festival to please shut the fuck up.

Let me explain. Earlier tonight, I -- seated with a mass of first-night folk fest attendees -- found myself treated to a transcedental performance by the great Hector Del Curto Tango Quartet, a four-piece ensemble from Argentina led by the master bandoneon player Hector Del Curto. This exceptional quartet, augmented by an erotic and affecting tango dance duo, absolutely twisted my heart up with impassioned playing and exotic, intricate sounds that summoned up reservoirs of meaning and feeling. I nearly cried during some of their selections, and I'm not really the blubbery type.

Let me stop here and say that there are many great performers on tap for this year's installment of the folk festival, which has grown into the largest and most successful festival of its kind. There are so many wonderful acts that one simply can't catch them all, even with three days of trying. But if you intend on going to this year's installment, scheduled through Sunday, treat yourself to one of this group's performances -- you need to surrender to this music and allow it to take you over. And if you listen, really listen, it will happen. I guarantee it.

Let me put it in a more personal way: After being treated to this group's 45 minute set at the MWV Stage, I already began plotting the ways in which I would learn the bandoleon, the German-derived accordion that was handled in such a masterly way by bandleader Del Curto. It's an insane dream, I know, like saying that you intend to learn how to pilot fighter jets, practice brain surgery, or do the New York Times crossword puzzle with a pen. What folly! To think that you will ever play like this third-generation tango master plays is as futile a hope as wanting to learn to write like William Faulkner, box like Mike Tyson or dance like Michael Jackson. Del Curto displayed a virtuosity on his beautiful instrument that was as mind-boggling as it was soulful, and he made the whole thing seem so easy. Don't get me started on the rest of this band, who jelled in such a fragile and intricate way that they may as well have been miming to a recorded tape that took months to craft in a studio with Pro Tools.This was a performance that I will carry with me for some time, and the kind of experience that I always seem to have, once or twice, during the annual folk festival.

So why, during the show, was I fighting to actually HEAR this great music?

That's because the crowd on display insisted on jabbering, chit-chatting and blandly yakking its way through it - to the extent that the more subtle points of the sound were blurred and hard to hear. I'm not referring to the people who became lost in the music and had to express it -- the fans who found themselves whooping and clapping and interacting with the chord changes and stylish arrangements. Not at all. I certainly couldn't help but be vocal at times. I don't see how anyone could keep totally quiet when presented with art like this.

No, I'm referring to the people who used the occasion to foist their offhand chatter on the rest of us, and in tones as loud as possible, preventing their neighbors from actually hearing the music being presented.

I have no doubt that the experience that you had at Kroger earlier in the day, when you couldn't find those veal cutlets, is important to you. I'm sure it was. And your vocal opinion of Yankee skipper Joe Giraldi's managing skills is, for all I know, pressing enough that you needed to express it. Right now. And, yeah brah, it's a real shame that the beer vendor line was longer than your thirst could possibly bare. I have every confidence that, to you, the wait was an American tragedy.

But this is not the time nor the place to express any of those things in the way I heard them expressed tonight. And if you really think that it is, bless your heart, can you somehow find a way to whisper those concerns? The Lord above gave us the gift of voice but he also blessed us with a volume control. Try it out some time. Seriously, magpies, if you could please summon the ability to quietly share how much poundage your friend Edwina lost by using that Weight Watchers program, and maybe even do it after the show, those of us who are there to actually listen to the performers on display would greatly appreciate it.

This kind of thing seems to happen every year at the festival, unfortunately. And it's getting worse. As record crowds join in mass to attend this popular community gathering, it is inevitable that there will be more and more people who are there simply to see and be seen, to turn what is a stellar series of concerts into loud social club meetings with their pals. 

At the same time that I spew all of this, I don't want to downplay how happy it makes me to see all of you chatterers there.. It's a fantastic thing that you and your friends and family want to come down to the folk fest and experience this event, for free, but these are performers who may never pass this way again. And I, and many others, actually want to hear them.

If you must loudly talk about how unfair Aunt Brenda was to Uncle Ted at the wedding last week, or how you felt when Paul Ryan wouldn't explain at the debate how those Romney tax cuts would be administered, do it elsewhere... not in the music tents. There are plenty of places throughout the festival site where you can hold those  no-doubt-pressing conversations. There are many performers at the festival who play loud dance music which can mask your yips and your yaps, but there are just as many offering music that relies on contemplation, owes its power to subtle nuance -- like the Hector Del Curto Tango Quartet. And these loud conversations you are having about the bar you intend to frequent after the performance is over, or how you feel about Short Pump traffic snarls, are simply not as important to the rest of us as they are to you. And especially not here.

At the same time, don't misunderstand me. I don't want to be the kind of insufferable music snob who shushes people, like those anal-retentive presenters of classical or folk concerts who insist that all crowd involvment needs to be policed like it is a violent crime (I'm looking at you, Birchmere). I don't want to have to be the one giving you the death ray eye because you simply have to tell everyone in your party how much you enjoyed last week's episode of "Hawaii Five-O"... but we just aren't interested. Some of us are there to listen. To the performers. Not to you.

As much as I greatly enjoyed the music on display during tonight's memorable tango tutorial, I was alternately embarrassed for Richmond that so many of you were unable to turn your own personal gossip off for less than an hour to honor this great band with your full attention. Is it really that hard? And if it is, why are you here exactly?

This is a long and windy spiel, I know, but I've kept this sentiment bottled up for some time. And as a fan, as a music lover, as a member of the folk festival programming committee (who speaks for himself only), as a writer who has covered the festival from its earliest beginnings, let me say once again that it makes me proud that so many of you take the time to patronize this amazing event.

But, from the bottom of my heart to the pleasure centers inside my ear cavity, I have to ask you to show some decency, some real respect, some sense of genuine participation, and shut the fuck up.

Respectfully yours,

"That Guy"TM