Red Hot + Blue (album)

Use your mentality. Wake up to reality.

Thirty years ago, on Saturday, December 1, 1990, the Red Hot + Blue special debuted on ABC. This was an hour-long collection of videos from the Cole Porter tribute album (of the same name) which was a major fundraiser for the Red Hot Organization, dedicated to fighting HIV/AIDS through music, pop culture and art. 

“Cole Porter was one of America’s greatest songwriters, and his music spoke about love and sex and experimentation with intelligence -- and that’s what you want when dealing with an AIDS benefit.” - Leigh Blake, "Red Hot" project co-director

It is difficult to communicate how controversial it was to discuss HIV/AIDS on television. It is shameful to think. This televised special of music videos of Cole Porter songs was aired at 10:00 PM on World AIDS Day, after a particularly disturbing episode of Twin Peaks in which Agent Cooper finally captures the murderer of Laura Palmer (no spoilers.)

The home video recording included the bumpers and intros to each music video that had been originally created for the broadcast, including Richard Gere's suggestion that people use condoms or not share needles, to prevent infection. These bits were cut at the last minute as a result of pressure, and fear, from the network, and replaced with inoffensive tributes to composer Cole Porter.

However, several of the videos that were broadcast were embedded with activist messaging, inlcuding Erasure's ACT UP inspired Too Darn Hot and  k.d. lang's devastating take on So In Love which includes imagery of one caring for her ill partner.

These covers sang to the pseudo-sophisticate in me. Several of them are faithful renditions of Cole Porter classics (Sinead O'Connor's You Do Something To Me, Lisa Stansfield's Down In the Depths, the aforemention k.d. lang track) as they emulate big band or cocktail lounge piano stylings.

The Thompson Twins Who Wants To Be a Millionaire? is an 80s pop throwback, but several tracks look to the future, original hip-hop singles which only use Porter titles for the hook or chorus. The plaintive piano breakdown at 2:30 on Neneh Cherry's I've Got You Under My Skin was a loop I sampled and used on several amateur audio projects as I diddled around with nascent computer sound programs. It even showed up in my design for The Gulf at Dobama's Night Kitchen, ten years later.

We played this album often, and the music reminds me of so much from an intense and fleeting moment in my (very) early adulthood; it was heard in shops in England during a university trip that December, and was part of our soundtrack during the winter run-up to the Persian Gulf War, my final quarter at school. The subject of the album itself was emotionally confusing, mournful and celebratory all at once.

I had one foot out the door, ready to graduate and head I did not know where.

And, of course, HIV is still with us. The COVID-19 epidemic has shown us - again - how social inequity, intolerance, and plain ignorance contribute to the human cost of any transmittable human infection. The theme for this year's World AIDS Day is “Global solidarity, shared responsibility."

Source:

Cole Porter: Red, Hot and New : Fund-raising: 26 years after his death, the great American songwriter’s music still intrigues pop figures by Robert Hilburn, L.A. Times (10/29/1990)

Play a Day: Rain and Zoe Save the World

Crystal Skillman

For Monday, I read Rain and Zoe Save the World by Crystal Skillman and available for download from New Play Exchange.

Yes! We begin the week with an Ultimate Millennial Road Trip Play! -- or as Zoe puts it, "a life changing journey of awesome." Awesome has been my go-to descriptor for all things that are awesome since the early 1980s and am thrilled it is still in use by those who are awesome.

There is much that is contemporary and urgent in this work, reflecting our modern anxiety and the urge, perhaps for the first time in our lives, to take action against everything that has gone wrong that allowed Donald J. Trump to become President of the United States, and all that that means.

This past weekend the boy and I participated in the March for Science, my wife and the girl attended the Women's March in January. When I was a younger man I thought like the character Rain, who believes that those who choose public protest "thinks they can change things by getting together and yelling."

But maybe they can. Depends on how many people are yelling and what they are yelling. The night the Iraq War started, two months after my now fourteen year-old daughter was born, I joined a protest at the Coventry Peace Park out of a sense of duty, my wife stayed home with the girl but I was there to represent. There were maybe a dozen of us. It was raining. I didn't hang around long.

Organizers believe around 10,000 attended the march in Cleveland alone last Saturday.

There is a moment in Skillman's play where our protagonists face off against those in the opposition, no doubt Trump voters, who choose fiercely to believe lies the that have been told them that uphold a worldview that no longer exists, never in fact truly existed.

But in spite of the fact that those who have fed and perpetuated these lies currently occupy all three branches of government, the facts clearly state that they have lost. They cannot win. Their way of life is unsustainable. But they cannot accept this. Who could? And so they live in complete and utter denial.

The Millennials are dismissed, as all people in the twenties are summarily dismissed, but I do believe that Rains and Zoes are going to save the world. We have to believe that, actually, I don't see that we have much choice.

Let the Wild Rumpus start.

Play a Day: Underground

Lisa. B. Thompson

For Thursday morning I read Underground by Lisa B. Thompson, and available on New Play Exchange.

Two men, activists together in college, now in their middle years, have an intense and uncomfortable reunion. Issues of race, class and modern conflict are heartily debated, and exactly what is at stake is not revealed until the final moments.

This work has been in development since 2014, though the subject matter deals with current events in a manner which must demand constant revision from its author. The version I read, which was recently produced at The Vortex in Austin, was uploaded just this morning.

Though they never mention him by name, the men discuss the fate of Tamir Rice. When one rattles off a list of those American cities which have experienced real life uprising and protest in the past few years, however, in "Ferguson, in Baltimore, Oakland, New York," where thousands marched and demanded that Black Lives Matter, Cleveland is conspicuous in its absence.

Because it didn't happen here, not in those numbers. Not with the same impact. Frustration over our community's apparent inability to rise up in protest was a major theme in the recent production of Objectively/Reasonable.

That frustration, the refusal to engage, to participate, especially from those in positions of authority and respect, makes for powerful drama in this play, too.

2016 Republican National Convention (Wednesday)

In the middle of last week, what seems like ages ago, this guy I know and I were watching the ball games at Jim Brennan Field in Forest Hill Park, Cleveland Heights. I was talking about changing up my exercise routine with a little cycling and he said he was thinking of riding his bike downtown during the convention, to check things out.

I thought this was a great idea, we’d be mobile in a way we could not trying to drive and park or by taking the rapid. I’d never ridden my bike downtown, though I have run across town when training for marathons. We made a date for Wednesday.

The first half was a familiar experience for me, only faster. Heading down Mayfield to Little Italy, I had my brakes on down the entire hill. I am not accustomed to propelling myself through the air with only a plastic helmet for protection. It has been a long time since I was a cyclist.

We took it easy through the cultural gardens and onto the Shoreway. I had suggested this route, rather than the more direct Euclid Avenue route he had suggested, because I noticed the city had just resurfaced North Marginal Road. I have run that road several times, and it is normally pitted and cratered. This day it was like like sliding on glass. Yay, public works!

Once we got to Ninth Street we had to figure out the best way to get to Public Square. Lakeshore was a Security Zone, and St. Clair. Passes only. Police officers were supernaturally polite in re-directing traffic. Superior was clear, and we rode past the library (did we really do a play there less than a week ago?) to the square, which was bustling with protesters, onlookers, officers, and a ridiculous amount of media.

The media were the sketchiest looking people, because everyone else was clearly identified as to who they were and what they were doing. Some reporters had stations ID'ed on their mics or cameras, but many did not, and any guy with a camera on a selfie stick and professional-grade mic attached could be broadcasting images to absolutely anywhere in real time.

We watched a few staged events. There is a platform stage surrounded by barricades in front of the statue of Moses Cleaveland, what some participants like to refer to as the Free Speech Pen, for scheduled performances. Code Pink presented the I Miss America Pageant in which contestants shared all the things they missed or would under a Trump presidency. Trump himself was present in the form of a participant in a suit made of money with an oversized papier-mâché head.

A team of protesters were handing out water, sports drinks, fresh fruit and handmade breakfast burritos, to everyone and anyone. We each had one of those, and though I would have asked for hot sauce had it been offered, they were really good, with a lot of egg, peppers and potato. They were also not poisoned or drugged. I know this because I am writing this blog post.

I witnessed one altercation which I had entirely misjudged, in which an organizer was getting into the face of a man in a suit, not exactly yelling at him, but he was heated. I have to admit, I assumed the protester was the aggressor, but when police intervened and quietly but forcefully walked away the man in the suit, I had to wonder just what the hell had happened.

However, while we were there, the events at Public Square appeared to be a well-organized, peaceful, if slightly disorienting event. People were getting their message out, would anyone care to hear them.

I needed to get back to take my son to an event back home in the Heights, and so my friend and I parted. He wanted to hang out a bit longer. I left just as a new team of participants in brick and chain link wall costumes were lining up to create one long barrier reading Wall Off Trump.

My friend recommended I try Euclid Avenue to save time, and I did and it was great fun. The bike lanes that start around East 30th Street are very helpful and though I made a few errors in timing I felt entirely safe. We took about an hour to get downtown, and it took forty-five minutes to get back -- and much of the last part was uphill. I wonder much more challenging the journey would be during a normal rush-hour commute. Perhaps I need to seriously take up biking for transportation.

2016 Republican National Convention (Sunday)

"Life Is Sharing The Same Park Bench" (1969)

Six years ago I spent a lot of time at the library reading newspapers from 1936, which was the last time Cleveland hosted a national political convention. Technically, it hosted three the same year, for the Republicans, the Socialists, and also Father Coughlin’s National Union for Social Justice.

Now, it wouldn’t matter whether the Republicans or Democrats chose to have their convention here this year, I did not anticipate getting involved. Not that I am not political. Of course, I am. But I am not a delegate, and political tourism is not my thing.

In fact, as it became more evident that Donald J. Trump would be their nominee, Cleveland’s moment in the sun began to look harsh and bleak. The kind of people who support Trump are angry people, and wilfully ignorant people. They admire him for the way he talks, which doesn’t make any sense because what he says is dull, obvious, arrogant, steeped in unearned entitlement and a braggadocchio that can only be appreciated by one who feels eternally at odds with perceived enemies.

There were rumors of hate groups from across the country, descending on Public Square, and legions of officers, and anarchists to oppose them. Downtown would be an unwelcoming police state. As the security fences began to go up, to keep all but those authorized from the convention venues, this possibility was appearing more evident.

Offices downtown declared they would be closed for the week, mine one of them. I would work at home and avoid this spectacle, which was a pity because the summer had started with such strength and hope. It seemed a shame to miss out on this historic moment, even if it was shadowed by an angry, orange cloud.

Can you imagine? In 1936 baseball games were happening in that great, new stadium on the lake (and yes, also League Park) adjacent to the Great Lakes Exposition, through which thousands of tourists passed daily, and the Republicans were able to accomplish their business in the Public Hall, which was within walking distance, and still take in, for example, the Marx Brothers performing live in a stand at the Palace Theatre. Everything! Downtown!

Sisters with different parents.

Yes, yes. I know. The good old days. What a simpler time.

As it has turned out, however, we have not stayed home. We have not even stayed on the east side. Since just before the convention began, we have been out, in the city, and all because these things are happening in our midst.

Sunday morning the entire family headed to the Near West Side to join thousands of others for a demonstration of peace and hope, called Circle The City With Love. Put simply, we were to span the Lorain-Carnegie Bridge, hold hands and be silent for thirty minutes. And we did. The moment was not without drama, as it was over eighty degrees and a few members passed out or nearly did so. But it was a surprisingly effective event and left me feeling a bit more optimistic.

Everyone who participated was invited to a free concert starring The Roots at the Wolstein Center. We didn’t know who the sponsoring producer was, it turns out to have been the AIDS Health Foundation and Keep the Promise USA to raise awareness and funds to combat HIV/AIDS around the world.

Keynote speaker was Dr. Cornel West, which was a major attraction for the wife. Early in the proceedings, however, I saw Brother Cornel and his associates fill out a row near the rear to enjoy the powerful gospel performance of Mary Mary. He was accompanied by a gaunt woman with a severe, silver cut.

Yes. It was Dr. Jill Stein, Green Party candidate for president. I was worried we had been punk’d into attending a Stein rally, but the AHF is a real thing, and though the good doctor introduced her, he didn’t say anything about her other than she is a candidate, and she said nothing at all. Anything perceived as campaigning would have violated FEC rules.

There were numerous acts, including B.O.B and Raheem DeVaughn, Teyana Taylor, and Questlove and The Roots played for about an hour. They were truly spectacular, a powerful, energetic musical ensemble. Their singer (I can’t find his name, not the lead rapper, he was like a special guest and I can’t find him online) sang a beautiful rendition of John Lennon’s Mother which was truly moving. It’s a powerful song, but I have never heard it performed by someone with a beautiful, clear singing voice. And in light of recent events, it was chilling.

I was surprised by my children. It was a long day, but they were awed by the event on the bridge, and thrilled by the long afternoon's concerts and speeches. It was quite an overwhelming day. Walking back to our car, down Prospect and through Playhouse Square with my family in tow, we could see black liveries with tinted windows veering down the streets, and there was a definite stillness in the air, a Sunday evening calm perhaps, or a calm before the storm?

Regardless, we were ready.

To be continued.