Beatles Throwback

I have to preface this by saying that my parents have possibly the best collective taste in music.

Thanks to my mother I was introduced to the Beatles, Elton John, and Tom Petty. Thanks to my father, I was introduced to Ray Charles, B.B. King, Lou Rawls, Roy Orbison, and even Kris Kristofferson (well, his song-writing, anyways). Thanks to both of them, my fiancee and I, her parents, my aunt, and my parents were at the Chevalier Theatre in Medford for the January 16th concert by the Beatles tribute band 1964.

What a good time!

The foursome that makes up the present day replica of Paul, John, George, and Ringo are fantastic. They sound like the Beatles. They play like the Beatles. They even joke and rag on each other like the Beatles. While it is true that the band has plenty of artists doing covers, there is only one that has been labelled the "best on Earth" by Rolling Stone.1 They are, in all sincerity, a living, breathing museum.

Having grown up with their music playing through my parents' (first) tape decks and (then) CD players, I thoroughly enjoyed the concert. And, having read The Fifth Beatle: The Brian Epstein Story by Vivek J. Tiwary and Andrew C. Robinson, I thrilled at how close the performance was to the vibe of the early days that was set out in the biography's pages. I can't imagine a better way to revisit the history of the band than pairing a read-through of the graphic novel with a ticket to 1964.

Throughout the entire evening, it was incredibly easy to forget the time and place. (Though it is true that every once in a while a flash went off that quite literally shed light on the present era and locale.) Multiple times I had to remind myself that I was still, in fact, watching a cover band and not the real thing. Between the banter and the set list - 1964 easily switching from the mega hits to the lesser-known ones - the entire performance had an air of authenticity.

If you find yourself confronted with the opportunity, please, step into this time machine. If you are too young to have experienced the British Invasion firsthand (like me), you will understand all of the intangibles about the early Rock and Roll movement that words and stories can't always deliver. If you lived the Beatles experience, then get ready for it all over again.

Til next time!

The One Part of the Apartment that I (Mostly) Decorated

Velcome to my bar. Ah ah ah.

Not sure why the Dracula voice snuck in there... perhaps it's because I am rereading it. And perhaps because he is such an excellent (read: not) host to Jonathan Harker.

Now on Instagram!

I am delighted to announce that Don't Look Down, Beantown is now on Instagram. You can follow along on the @dontlookdownbeantown page. There you will find much excitement; already there is the Prudential Tower, Harvard, the Charlestown skyline, and doughnuts. Here, have a quick peek:



Prudential at night



Harvard's entry/exit gateway



Charlestown skyline

I know, I know. No picture of the doughnuts. What gives? Well, it's its-own-post worthy, so I am saving it for later. And, yes, it is a continuation of my Union Square saga/quest for the glorious maple bacon doughnut (parts one and two).

Truth be told, it is the renewed inspiration and passion for this little project that I am most excited about. It is easy to fall out of the habit of keeping up, especially when life gets busy. I won't lie, though, I am a bit intimidated - there is already a countless number of talented Bostonians sharing their experiences in the Bean via Instagram. I am happy to become one, too, and hopefully prove myself a distinct voice in the crowd.

Til next time!

Suspension of Disbelief

These were taken within driving distance of the city. Within sight of the Prudential. A literal hop, skip, and jump over the Charles. 

How can this be real? Below three dollars? I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't just paid it.

Happy holiday travels, everyone.

Til next time!

BBF 2014: History, Architecture, and an Almond Croissant

Not twenty minutes ago, my fiancee and I had this conversation:

"Do you want to go out?"

"Not really. Why, do you? Want to walk around?"

"Not really. I'm kind of enjoying reading."

"Yeah. It's nice."

Reading is nice. Reading is important. If you were one of the lucky attendees of the perennially great (and free!) Boston Book Festival, then I think you left feeling the same. Reading - whether it is the latest historical tome from Doris Kearns Goodwin, the popcorn mythology of Rick Riordan, or the artistic approach to architecture from Lord Norman Foster - is incredibly important. If not because it reaffirms what is important and meaningful to you, the reader, then because it reaffirms what holds us together as a group, the general audience.

This year's festival was jam-packed with excitement. For instance, when I first arrived at Copley Square, it was with what I thought was enough time to grab a bite to eat before hopping in line to see Doris Kearns Goodwin (author of Lyndon Johnson and the American Dream, The Fitzgeralds and the Kennedys, No Ordinary Time, Team of Rivals, and The Bully Pulpit) speak. As is usually the case when it comes to timing my arrival to important events, I was grossly mistaken. (The less said about every major holiday of the past half decade the better.) Taking my place in line, stomach grumbling, gave me the pleasant misfortune of viewing the farthest corner of the Trinity Church away from the entrance. In other words, by the time I arrived, the line had already wrapped seventy-five percent of the way around the building.

 

Slowly progressing towards the entrance (or, according to my appetite, slowly abandoning my proximity to the Bon Me truck parked at the corner of Boylston and Clarendon), I paced into the Trinity Church.

First of all - Wow. Beautiful and iconic on the outside, the interior is a sight to behold. Second, what an amazing venue for a talk with a historian and, later, an architect.

Ms. Kearns Goodwin's conversation with WBUR was great. In it, she more or less revealed that she is mulling a next book on the topic of leadership, pulling from all of the previous research she has done. Earlier this year, while I was in Nashville, I had the good fortune to hear Jon Meacham (author of Franklin and Winston, Thomas Jefferson: The Art of Power, and the complicated biography of controversial American President Andrew Jackson, American Lion) speak on which attributes he would like to see the next generation of Americans exhibit: from Jefferson, curiosity; from Jackson, resilience; from Roosevelt, charm; from Churchill, courage. In this regard, I think Kearns Goodwin is almost overqualified, and I can't wait to see what comes of this next book. Per Kearns Goodwin's talk and her own work, perhaps Lincoln as a model of critical problem solving in assembling his cabinet? Johnson for social responsibility in his Civil Rights legislation? Teddy Roosevelt as a motivator? Eleanor Roosevelt as leadership itself? Of course, it's also possible Doris Kearns Goodwin is reading this, screaming "Nooooo! That's not it at all!" Apologies if I misunderstood, but I do hope (and think) I understood correctly.

Her talk concluded, there were precious few moments before Lord Norman Foster's (architect of Foster + Partners) talk began. Just enough time to run to Au Bon Pain on Boylston, grab an almond croissant (mana from heaven) and a small coffee.

And... back in my seat, underneath and consumed by the beautiful architecture of Trinity Church once more, just in time to hear Lord Foster speak. If you are unfamiliar with his work, you can see his projects here. Most notable to Bostonians is his work on the Art of the Americas expansion at the Museum of Fine Arts, which was news to me. (Whoops.) For all that I have written on the museum (probably my favorite place in the Bean), and for all of the times I have walked by the expansion, I did not know who designed it.

I have always loved the Art of the Americas expansion. Lord Foster's philosophical approach to architectural design - that you must first define your task as well as the space you are working with - can be seen on full display here in Boston. As many of us have noticed, it is the largest part of the museum to feature windows. Refusing the traditional approach to museum exteriors (my interpretation is that they use heavy stone and limited windows to reflect, to some extent, an exclusivity of knowledge at the same time that they physically protect the works within), the expansion skips to what happens inside the museum: the open conversation and beginnings of dialogue on art, history, and the humanities. To my mind, it achieves this by placing statues and art where large windows meet the ends of long hallways. The statues are instantly visible from the outside, leading you toward the hallways and, hopefully, into the museum. It effectively begins your dialogue before you even enter. Personally, I think it's genius. Of course, it's also possible Lord Foster is also reading this, screaming "Nooooo! That's not it at all!" Again, apologies if I misunderstood, but I do hope (and think) I understood correctly.

Yes, there was much more to do at the Boston Book Festival, but I was fully satisfied - amazed, really. The festival gets better every year, and in only its sixth iteration, it is hard to imagine how it could get any better. But I do know this. Its organizers are miracle workers, and if anyone can push something almost perfect nearer that ideal, it's them.

Til next time!

Boston Book Festival's One City One Story

Next week the Boston Book Festival will overtake Copley Square. Every year the city brings top talent - local, national, and international - to the public spaces that surround its historic library. Fitting, though, that a city with such literary tradition approaches this annual celebration with joy.

Even more fitting that it approaches it through the rigors of academic and literary achievement. 

The authors that speak are impressive in their own right, that is without doubt. In fact, it is refreshing to see the air of celebrity that surrounds them. Why shouldn't those who compete in the major leagues of the written word receive some adulation? Beantown has been (and still is) many things, but it nice to know that - even for a day - this town of sports, medicine, and science celebrates its status as a center of the arts.

The authors themselves, though, are not the entirety of the day, and they are not the entirety of celebrating this academic and literary legacy. That honor belongs to the organizers of the event, the annual author of the One City One Story short, and the residents of the Boston area. 

One City One Story is the city's Autumn push for literacy. Sponsored and distributed by Dunkin Donuts and Zipcar (genius! both are on every corner in the Bean), the initiative floods the city with thousands of copies of the same story. This is not simply an attempt to publicize the festival, it is instead an earnest attempt to highlight everything that the festival celebrates: the continuation of the open dialogue and exchange of information and experience that writing has given us. 

Imagine if the common thread wound through Boston for a day was a discussion on shared storytelling. Find a copy of the story at Dunkin Donuts and book stores around the city (I found mine at the Brookline Booksmith) and make it a reality!

For more information, follow the Boston Book Festival on its website here. Visiting authors this year include Doris Kearns Goodwin (Team of Rivals), Rick Riordan (Percy Jackson series), and over 150 more. 

Til next time!

Elsewheres: Nashville, TN

The thing about Wish-I-Was-There travel lists is that they never get shorter. Once the travel bug sinks its teeth into your skin there is no shaking it; you might scratch a place off of your list only to find yourself adding another ten. Just to share, my top three five are Paris, Rome, Venice, Istanbul, and Barcelona, but I also want to see Peru, Mexico, Argentina, Romania, Portugal, China, Cambodia, and Egypt (and even that is not a comprehensive list). And Iceland. Whoops. Tokyo, too.

Get my point?

I have been to plenty of places within the United States thanks to growing up with generous and adventurous parents, but there was one in particular that – until this June – I had always kept in the back of my mind: Nashville, Tennessee.

Traveling to Nashville was, for me, the completion of my Music Cities of the South trilogy. First, there was Memphis (I applied to a college there – the only one outside of New England – and therefore needed to visit), home of Sun Studios, Beale Street, and the blues. Then there was New Orleans (I attended a wedding that my now-fiancée was a bridesmaid in), home of Bourbon Street and jazz. Finally, there was Nashville (I had the good fortune to attend a conference in town), home of country music, honky tonks, and Second Fiddle. Only in retrospect have I realized this, but if you want to travel America, follow the music.

So now that my trilogy is complete, what can I conclude? Memphis had my favorite music and New Orleans had the best food, but nothing beats the downtown of Nashville. As a sum-total experience, the combination of endless live music, good local beer (Yazoo), and a close-quarter, safe downtown to cut loose in makes Nashville an experience. Like a full-immersion language program, Nashville drops you into the heart of Country Music Culture, never lets you forget where you are, and – with its fine Southern hospitality – smooth talks you into a sip of the Kool-Aid. 

You’ll leave wishing there were honky tonks wherever you’re from.

Getting downtown in Nashville is easy; it’s a relatively small pocket of blocks that starts with Tootsie’s and ends at the Cumberland River. Tootsie’s is an easy find. First of all, it is purple. Second, it is all over the promotional materials for downtown and it is pretty much always packed. Which is exactly why I avoided it, and exactly why I would recommend the place next door instead: the aptly titled Second Fiddle. I might be busting tradition (I am a known curmudgeon), but Second Fiddle is better and far less crowded, which makes it far more enjoyable. I walked into Tootsie’s, up every flight of stairs, made uncomfortable body contact with every crowd, saw that each floor was packed, and walked right out. It was a lot like being on the T, actually. Luckily for me, Second Fiddle was comfortably busy (there was actually a seat at the bar), and the music was good. I mean, it was real good. We’re talking Waylon Jennings covers that sounded like the man himself.

Whether you’re a country music fan or not, the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum is a fantastic and worthwhile visit. There is a wealth of American history seared into its music, and the museum works equally well as a history of the genre as it does part and parcel of Americana. It revels in showing you Elvis’s gold Cadillac and Patsy Cline’s outfits while explaining the origins of country music and its place throughout the course of American history. The museum is a feat of shared storytelling, the dream of country music fans and historians alike.

And lastly, there’s the people-watching. People in Nashville are cutting loose, man. They’re dropping $500 on a pair of snakeskin cowboy boots, chasing it with a ridiculously huge belt buckle, and polishing off their stay with dance moves that run the gamut from Dancing with the Stars-level choreography to Chris Farley’s “Fat Guy in a Little Coat.” But everyone – I mean everyone – is having the time of their life doing it. Nashville has an infectious happiness. But how could it not? It is a holy city in the Tao of Country Music.

So there you have it. Nashville has a coaxing charm that is propelled by country music and the stories it tells. There was a catchy joy in knowing I was watching a lot of other people’s travel dreams come true. It was so catchy, I realized that I had really always wanted to visit myself – as I said, this was the conclusion of my Music Trilogy. 

Like the ancient Greek sirens, Nashville sings a melody into the air that will draw you in. Unlike the sirens, Nashville has no strings attached – just good times.

Til next time!