two takes
Carlos Simon (1986-), “Between Worlds” (2019); Miranda Cuckson (1972-), violin
#1 (1/21)
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#2 (9/21)
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About “Between Worlds”
Bill Traylor was born a slave in Alabama in 1853 and died in 1949. He lived long enough to see the United States of America go through many social and political changes. He was an eyewitness to the Civil War, Emancipation, Reconstruction, Jim Crow segregation and the Great Migration. As a self taught visual artist, his work reflects two separate worlds— rural and urban, black and white, old and new. In many ways the simplified forms in Traylor’s artwork tell of the complexity of his world, creativity, and inspiring bid for self-definition in a dehumanizing segregated culture. This piece is inspired by the evocative nature as a whole and not one piece by Traylor. Themes of mystical folklore, race, and religion pervade Traylor’s work. I imagine these solo pieces as a musical study; hopefully showing Traylor’s life between disparate worlds.
—Carlos Simon
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Bill Traylor: Chasing Ghosts (2023)
sounds of New York
Being & Becoming (Peter Evans [trumpets, compositions], Joel Ross [vibraphone, electronics], Nick Jozwiak [bass, electronics], Michael Ode [drums]), “Malibu,” live, New York, 9/10/23
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lagniappe
random sights
yesterday, Oak Park, Ill.

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radio
Today, in celebration of the birthday of Nigerian Afrobeat legend Fela Kuti (1938-1997), it’s all Fela all day at WKCR (Columbia University).
It was, I recall, a cloudless morning in Chicago, as it was in New York. I had a hearing scheduled in federal court, but then, after the second plane hit, court was cancelled. I sat, with my office mates, in front of the TV, unable to turn away.
William Basinski (1958-), “Disintegration Loop 1.1,” 2001
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lagniappe
reading table
Photograph from September 11
by Wislawa Szymborska (1923-2012, MCOTD Hall of Fame), translated from the Polish by Clare Cavanagh and Stanislaw Baranczak
They jumped from the burning floors—
one, two, a few more,
higher, lower.
The photograph halted them in life,
and now keeps them
above the earth toward the earth.
Each is still complete,
with a particular face
and blood well hidden.
There’s enough time
for hair to come loose,
for keys and coins
to fall from pockets.
They’re still within the air’s reach,
within the compass of places
that have just opened.
I can do only two things for them—
describe this flight
and not add a last line.