When did irony creep into the human mind? Did Neanderthal have irony? It occupies the area of consciousness where symbolic language came on board: words, circa 150,000 years ago. I’m a believer that children invented language, and irony is not anything a child’s mind can ascertain. So, part of understanding irony, is that you have to have some years under your belt. It is so much more than the dictionary definition: Saying one thing mockingly to mean another. If it was merely deceptive talk then the language of war could bear investigation, or Mother Goose for that matter. Then you have the psychoanalysts who assert that irony is a form of passive aggression. There is a school of thought in linguistics that believes that words come before meaning (took me years to grasp that one), that the meaning accrued around the utterance. Which is why the meaning within words changes over time. To me, this photo is ironic: The rueful juxtaposition of nature vs the industrial mechanical world, and the sadness thereof. In the old books, certainly the Greeks used irony; and the ancient Chinese used it very subtly, like a quiet breeze; I can’t think of any irony in Anglo-Saxon, certainly none in Beowulf or the northern myths; Aesop the Ethiopian, yes; (For the Greeks irony was more like three-card monte); in India? Is there irony in the Vedas or Upanishads, possibly in the Mahabharata, but nothing in the Dhammapada, Buddha was a straight shooter; Chaucer? O gawd, yes; The Decameron (1350) is an ocean of irony, irony as polite double-talk: Is there irony in the Pentateuch? I’ll have to look. Is irony pejorative? Can it be otherwise? Irony certainly betokens a less innocent time. I shouldn’t think parody is related to irony, that’s a little more overt. Irony hides in the wink and shrug. Nor is it satire or euphemism or burlesque. Irony is shadow, literally. Maybe all existence is irony? Not as a joke, but futile. The existential dilemma. -- Photo by Mark Weber --------- May 1978

When did irony creep into the human psyche? Did Neanderthal have irony? It occupies the area of consciousness where symbolic language came on board: words, circa 150,000 years ago. I’m a believer that children invented language, and irony is not anything a child’s mind can ascertain. So, part of understanding irony, is that you have to have some years under your belt. It is so much more than the dictionary definition: Saying one thing mockingly to mean another. If it was merely deceptive talk then the language of war could bear investigation, or Mother Goose for that matter. Then you have the psychoanalysts who assert that irony is a form of passive aggression. There is a school of thought in linguistics that believes that words come before meaning (took me years to grasp that one), that the meaning accrued around the utterance. Which is why the meaning within words changes over time. To me, this photo is ironic: The rueful juxtaposition of nature vs the industrial mechanical world, and the sadness thereof. In the old books, certainly the Greeks used irony; and the ancient Chinese used it very subtly, like a quiet breeze; I can’t think of any irony in Anglo-Saxon, certainly none in Beowulf or the northern myths; Aesop the Ethiopian, yes; (For the Greeks irony was more like three-card monte); in India? Is there irony in the Vedas or Upanishads, possibly in the Mahabharata, but nothing in the Dhammapada, Buddha was a straight shooter; Chaucer? O gawd, yes; The Decameron (1350) is an ocean of irony, irony as polite double-talk: Is there irony in the Pentateuch? I’ll have to look. Is irony pejorative? Can it be otherwise? Irony certainly betokens a less innocent time. I shouldn’t think parody is related to irony, that’s a little more overt. Irony hides in the wink and shrug. Nor is it satire or euphemism or burlesque. Irony is shadow, literally. Maybe all existence is irony? Not as a joke, but futile. The existential dilemma. — Photo by Mark Weber ——— May 1978

January 24, 2o19 Jazz @ Noon every Thursday (starts at 12:07 after the satellite news) Host MARK WEBER KUNM Albuquerque, USA 89.9 FM (Mountain Standard Time) also streaming on the web KUNM.org Current time zone offset: UTC*/GMT -6 hours (*Coordinated Universal Time)/Greenwich Mean Time)

LATERAL THINKING

Come back to it
Some other time
Time being important, or rather:
Timing
Even as everything being in dispute
Time shapes it all, or
seems to, gawd don’t
stumble, like I did this morning
innocently, into “evolutionary
musicology” fat book, to refresh
memory on the origins of music,
Not a lot of agreement in that field,
and a whole lot of specialized jargon
one must decipher and/or disregard
I go outside for a minute and our
kitty cat comes over and rubs my legs
and I say “Are you enjoying this
cultural moment we’re having?” she keeps rubbing
hoping I’ll give her
her 3rd breakfast (not going to happen, I need
delve back into those anthro books)
the brain telescopes associative extrapolation:
. . . cultural moment? are we enjoying it?
Well, one hears talk of “checks and balances”
Isn’t it about time some of those kicked in?
Well, it all comes back to timing I suppose

1984 Albuquerque (Annapurna’s Vegetarian World Cafe at this location these days)

1984 Albuquerque (Annapurna’s Vegetarian World Cafe at this location these days)

Trombonist George McMullen had only recently relocated from LA to NYC when this photo was taken ----- I know him through our mutual friend Bill Plake (saxophonist) and Carol Liebowitz had run into him somewhere in town and invited him to Connie’s jam session ---- I introduced them and CC asked if George wanted to play something together ---- Studio 410 at 475 Kent Avenue, Brooklyn ---- November 16, 2o14 ---- Connie had told me how she so loves trombones and how infrequently she gets to play with them

Trombonist George McMullen had only recently relocated from LA to NYC when this photo was taken —– I know him through our mutual friend Bill Plake (saxophonist) and Carol Liebowitz had run into him somewhere in town and invited him to Connie’s jam session —- I introduced them and CC asked if George wanted to play something together —- Studio 410 at 475 Kent Avenue, Brooklyn —- November 16, 2o14 —- Connie had told me how she so loves trombones and how infrequently she gets to play with them.

Alison Miller – October 9, 2o14 ---- photo by Mark Weber

Alison Miller – October 9, 2o14 —- photo by Mark Weber

Nick Lyons & Birgitta Flick ---- November 16, 2o14 at Connie Crothers studio in Williamsburg NY – photo by Mark Weber

Nick Lyons & Birgitta Flick —- November 16, 2o14 at Connie Crothers studio in Williamsburg NY – photo by Mark Weber

Biggi Vinkeloe’s Desert Sweets Trio in Albuquerque – March 14, 2o13 – Biggi(alto & flute), Mark Weaver(tuba), Damon Smith(bass) – photo by Mark Weber ---- Biggi is what you’d call peripatetic, from what I gather off the web she doesn’t stay put very long, born in Germany, she’s consider’d a “Swedish musician,” but lived long years in France, and thereafter is anybody’s guess, having been spotted in Oakland, California, quite often, but also, Gothenburg (w/ violinist Nema Vinkeloe, daughter?), Stockholm, London, Rome, Copenhagen, Berlin, South Florida, Bangalore, Cologne, NYC, and FaceBook --- She’s an improvisor & composer

Biggi Vinkeloe’s Desert Sweets Trio in Albuquerque – March 14, 2o13 – Biggi(alto & flute), Mark Weaver(tuba), Damon Smith(bass) – photo by Mark Weber —- Biggi is what you’d call peripatetic, from what I gather off the web she doesn’t stay put very long, born in Germany, she’s consider’d a “Swedish musician,” but lived long years in France, and thereafter is anybody’s guess, having been spotted in Oakland, California, quite often, but also, Gothenburg (w/ violinist Nema Vinkeloe, daughter?), Stockholm, London, Rome, Copenhagen, Berlin, South Florida, Bangalore, Cologne, NYC, and FaceBook — She’s an improvisor & composer

Eva Lindal – May 29, 2o16 Stockholm – photo by Mark Weber

Eva Lindal – May 29, 2o16 Stockholm – photo by Mark Weber

Two Violins for Eva Lindal ------------------- line drawing my Mark Weber

Two Violins for Eva Lindal ——————- Line drawing my Mark Weber

Half of World Saxophone Quartet – David Murray and Julius Hemphill AND those crazy chicken wire music stands that Julius had made that afternoon before the concert on a double-bill with Vinny Golia Trio at U.C. Irvine – January 20, 1980 – photo by Mark Weber

Half of World Saxophone Quartet – David Murray and Julius Hemphill AND those crazy chicken wire music stands that Julius had made that afternoon before the concert on a double-bill with Vinny Golia Trio at U.C. Irvine – January 20, 1980 – photo by Mark Weber

Babatundi Olatunji at Watts Towers Day of the Drum Festival – September 23, 1984 – photo by Mark Weber

Babatundi Olatunji at Watts Towers Day of the Drum Festival – September 23, 1984 – photo by Mark Weber

Karen Borca ---- November 13, 2016 at Connie Crothers Memorial Concert at Roulette ---- photo by Mark Weber

Karen Borca —- November 13, 2016 at Connie Crothers Memorial Concert at Roulette —- photo by Mark Weber

Kazzrie Jaxen -------------- November 13, 2o16 at Roulette, Brooklyn – photo by Mark Weber

Kazzrie Jaxen ————– November 13, 2o16 at Roulette, Brooklyn – photo by Mark Weber

Did I already tell this story? Sitting backstage with Big Mama Thornton at San Francisco Blues Festival in the hour before she went on ---- I’m hanging out drinking beer from a can, the trick to taking photographs is not to be a pest, just be cool, there’s artists & stage hands milling about ----- So, I’m in back there behind the bandshell in Golden Gate Park and Big Mama is sitting in a folding chair with an over-sized suit coat, she’s very skinny by this time, she lives across the Bay in Oakland, it’s a typical summer day in San Francisco, not cold but not warm either ---- Next thing I know, Big Mama is pointing to me and motioning for me to come over to her, it was something of a command, I walk over and she pats the chair beside her and wants me to sit down, I sit there and she is content with that, I don’t remember her actually saying sit with me, but that was the message and I totally understood, I grew up among stoic people, and I realized she probably just didn’t want to be alone, and she didn’t feel like talking, only the comfort of abiding ---- If I took photos of her while we sat there, which I kind of doubt, they must be at my UCLA archive ----- I sometimes wonder if she could see my ghost, that she recognized, subliminally, we shared a similar fatal thirst ------ Photo by Mark Weber ---- Saturday, August 11, 1979 ---- Big Mama Thornton with Mark Naftalin on piano

Did I already tell this story? Sitting backstage with Big Mama Thornton at San Francisco Blues Festival in the hour before she went on —- I’m hanging out drinking beer from a can, the trick to taking photographs is not to be a pest, just be cool, there’s artists & stage hands milling about —– So, I’m in back there behind the bandshell in Golden Gate Park and Big Mama is sitting in a folding chair with an over-sized suit coat, she’s very skinny by this time, she lives across the Bay in Oakland, it’s a typical summer day in San Francisco, not cold but not warm either —- Next thing I know, Big Mama is pointing to me and motioning for me to come over to her, it was something of a command, I walk over and she pats the chair beside her and wants me to sit down, I sit there and she is content with that, I don’t remember her actually saying sit with me, but that was the message and I totally understood, I grew up among stoic people, and I realized she probably just didn’t want to be alone, and she didn’t feel like talking, only the comfort of abiding —- If I took photos of her while we sat there, which I kind of doubt, they must be at my UCLA archive —– I sometimes wonder if she could see my ghost, that she recognized, subliminally, we shared a similar fatal thirst —— Photo by Mark Weber —- Saturday, August 11, 1979 —- Big Mama Thornton with Mark Naftalin on piano.

You couldn’t separate these two: That’s my little brother Brian Weber and John Carter (Brian is actually bigger than me but is 4 years younger and therefore when he was much younger and smaller I always called him my “little brother”) ---- John is the renowned clarinet master, and Porsche aficionado (he was a regular listener to KPFK’s Saturday afternoon Car show), and my little brother was his mechanic ----- John’s main car was his beloved 1963 yellow Porsche 911 (where is it now?) which he had for years, then he added to that a 914 but it was a lemon and that’s when he found out Brian could fix anything, he’d leave it with Brian on a Saturday and Brian would fix it and then take his dates out that week (John was cool with that, and always laughed, what better way to have your mechanic get the bugs out than drive your car around) ---- I’d bring Brian along to concerts and he and John would talk mechanics ---- September 23, 1984 Watts Towers – photo by Mark Weber

You couldn’t separate these two: That’s my little brother Brian Weber and John Carter (Brian is actually bigger than me but is 4 years younger and therefore when he was much younger and smaller I always called him my “little brother”) —- John is the renowned clarinet master, and Porsche aficionado (he was a regular listener to KPFK’s Saturday afternoon Car show), and my little brother was his mechanic —– John’s main car was his beloved 1963 yellow Porsche 911 (where is it now?) which he had for years, then he added to that a 914 but it was a lemon and that’s when he found out Brian could fix anything, he’d leave it with Brian on a Saturday and Brian would fix it and then take his dates out that week (John was cool with that, and always laughed, what better way to have your mechanic get the bugs out than drive your car around) —- I’d bring Brian along to concerts and he and John would talk mechanics —- September 23, 1984 Watts Towers – photo by Mark Weber

Rest in Peace JOSEPH JARMAN

Rest in Peace JOSEPH JARMAN