Belgium: Odessa massacre remembered outside European Parliament

Belgium: Odessa massacre remembered outside European Parliament

 

 

 

 RIANOVOSTI –  4 October 2014

Scores of people in Brussels assembled to honor the memory of the victims of the May 2 Odessa tragedy. The participants were carrying black balloons.

Similar events took place in a number of European cities.

On May 2, 2014 a rally held by Antimaidan activists on Kulikovo Field in Odessa turned tragic when they were attacked by Right Sector radicals and football fans. Dozens of Antimaidan activists were killed when the Trade Union building they were taking shelter in was set on fire. According to the official estimates, 48 people were killed and over 250 were injured. Another 48 people are considered missing. Odessa regional councilman Vadim Savenko believes that the Kiev authorities have understated the number of casualties – he claims that 116 people were killed.

In Memoriam of Andrey Stenin – ‘Do Not Stand By My Grave And Weep’

AndrewSteninFuneral3

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In Memoriam of Andrey Stenin

Do Not Stand By My Grave And Weep

Do not stand at my grave and weep

I am not there; I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints on snow,

I am the sun on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there; I did not die.

Russian Photojournalist Andrey Stenin killed by the Kiev Neo-nazi Juntain Eastern Ukraine.

Russian Photojournalist Andrey Stenin killed by the Kiev Neo-nazi Junta in Eastern Ukraine.

 

Published time: September 06, 2014 17:33

Photojournalist Andrey Stenin’s funeral held in Moscow

COURTESY: RT’s RUPTLY video agency, NO RE-UPLOAD, NO REUSE – FOR LICENSING, PLEASE, CONTACT http://ruptly.tv

Hundreds of mourners paid their last respects to slain photojournalist Andrey Stenin on Friday. The two-hour memorial service was held at the offices of news agency Rossiya Segodnya, formerly RIA Novosti, which employed the photographer. The remains of Stenin, who was killed in eastern Ukraine, were found in the Donetsk region two weeks ago but were only identified through DNA testing on Wednesday.

 

Robin Williams death confirmed a suicide

US actor Robin Williams (AFP Photo / Tiziana Fabi)

US actor Robin Williams (AFP Photo / Tiziana Fabi)

August 12, 2014

He made us laugh; He made us cry

Actor and comedian Robin Williams died of a suicide, police now confirm, and believe asphyxia due to hanging was the cause of his death. Williams, 63, died Monday at his home in Marin County, California.

 

Late Tuesday morning, Marin Co. Sheriff’s Lt. Keith Boyd told reporters at a press conference that Williams’ personal assistant found the actor hanging from a belt around his neck inside a room at his home one day earlier. Cuts were also found on Williams’ wrist, Boyd said, and a pocket knife was located near his body.

“It was so sudden and he was such a great guy and it’s such a loss to the whole community,” neighbor Daniel Jennings told the Associated Press. “He was really nice to all the neighbors.”

Officials said at Tuesday’s presser that Williams’ wife last saw him at around 10:30 p.m. Sunday evening, and that the actor’s body was discovered late the next morning in a “seated position, suspended, slightly above the ground,” according to Boyd, “suspended from the belt that was wedged between the door and the door frame that was placed around his neck.”

The Coroner has preliminarily ruled the incident a death due to hanging, and said a toxicology report will be finished in two- to six-weeks.

One day earlier, Williams’ publicist issued a statement saying his client had been “battling severe depression,” and asked for privacy on behalf of the actor’s family.

“This morning, I lost my husband and my best friend, while the world lost one of its most beloved artists and beautiful human beings. I am utterly heartbroken,”Williams’ wife, Susan Schneider, said in a statement on Monday.“As he is remembered, it is our hope that the focus will not be on Robin’s death, but on the countless moments of joy and laughter he gave to millions.”

His daughter, 25-year-old Zelda Williams, posted an excerpt from the book “The Little Prince” in paying tribute to her daughter over Twitter.

Buz3aJ-CMAAb8TL.jpg large

 

The Chicago-born actor won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor for his role in the 1997 film ‘Good Will Hunting,’ and also won accolades for dramatic performances in ‘Dead Poets Society’ and ‘What Dreams May Come,’ among others.

According to IMDB, Williams had over 100 acting credits to his name, including roles in at least three films currently in post-production.

At Tuesday’s conference, the Marin County Sheriff’s Office declined to answer if any suicide note was found near Williams’ body.

Gabriel García Márquez, Literary Pioneer, Dies at 87 – The New York Times

Gabriel Garcia Marquez,  Colombian literary novelist

Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Novelist and Exponent of Magic Realism

By JONATHAN KANDELL APRIL 17, 2014

Gabriel García Márquez, the Colombian novelist whose “One Hundred Years of Solitude” established him as a giant of 20th-century literature, died on Thursday at his home in Mexico City. He was 87.

His death was confirmed by Cristóbal Pera, his former editor at Random House.

Mr. García Márquez, who received the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1982, wrote fiction rooted in a mythical Latin American landscape of his own creation, but his appeal was universal. His books were translated into dozens of languages. He was among a select roster of canonical writers — Dickens, Tolstoy and Hemingway among them — who were embraced both by critics and by a mass audience.

“Each new work of his is received by expectant critics and readers as an event of world importance,” the Swedish Academy of Letters said in awarding him the Nobel.
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Gabriel García Márquez in 1987.
ArtsBeat: Remembering the Life and Work of Gabriel García MárquezAPRIL 17, 2014

Mr. García Márquez was considered the supreme exponent, if not the creator, of the literary genre known as magic realism, in which the miraculous and the real converge. In his novels and stories, storms rage for years, flowers drift from the skies, tyrants survive for centuries, priests levitate and corpses fail to decompose. And, more plausibly, lovers rekindle their passion after a half century apart.

Magic realism, he said, sprang from Latin America’s history of vicious dictators and romantic revolutionaries, of long years of hunger, illness and violence. In accepting his Nobel, Mr. García Márquez said: “Poets and beggars, musicians and prophets, warriors and scoundrels, all creatures of that unbridled reality, we have had to ask but little of imagination. For our crucial problem has been a lack of conventional means to render our lives believable.”

Like many Latin American intellectuals and artists, Mr. García Márquez felt impelled to speak out on the political issues of his day. He viewed the world from a left-wing perspective, bitterly opposing Gen. Augusto Pinochet, the right-wing Chilean dictator, and unswervingly supporting Fidel Castro in Cuba. Mr. Castro became such a close friend that Mr. García Márquez showed him drafts of his unpublished books.

No draft had more impact than the one for “One Hundred Years of Solitude.” Mr. García Márquez’s editor began reading it at home one rainy day, and as he read page after page by this unknown Colombian author, his excitement mounted. Soon he called the Argentine novelist Tomás Eloy Martínez and summoned him urgently to the home.

Mr. Eloy Martinez remembered entering the foyer with wet shoes and encountering pages strewn across the floor by the editor in his eagerness to read through the work. They were the first pages of a book that in 1967 would vault Mr. García Márquez onto the world stage. He later authorized an English translation, by Gregory Rabassa. In Spanish or English, readers were tantalized from its opening sentences:

“Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Col. Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice. At that time Macondo was a village of 20 adobe houses built on the bank of a river of clear water that ran along a bed of polished stones, which were white and enormous, like prehistoric eggs. The world was so recent that many things lacked names, and in order to indicate them it was necessary to point.”
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“One Hundred Years of Solitude” would sell more than 20 million copies. The Chilean poet Pablo Neruda called it “the greatest revelation in the Spanish language since ‘Don Quixote.’ ” The novelist William Kennedy hailed it as “the first piece of literature since the Book of Genesis that should be required reading for the entire human race.”

Mr. García Márquez was rattled by the praise. He grew to hate “One Hundred Years of Solitude,” he said in interviews, because he feared his subsequent work would not measure up to it in readers’ eyes. He need not have worried. Almost all his 15 other novels and short-story collections were lionized by critics and devoured by readers.

Gabriel García Márquez was born in Aracataca, a small town near Colombia’s Caribbean coast, on March 6, 1927. His father, a postal clerk and telegraph operator, could barely support his wife and 12 children; Gabriel, the oldest, spent his early childhood living in the large, ramshackle house of his maternal grandparents. It influenced his writing; it seemed inhabited, he said, by the ghosts his grandmother conjured in the stories she told.

His maternal grandfather, a retired army colonel, was also an influence: “the most important figure of my life,” Mr. García Márquez said. The grandfather bore a marked resemblance to Colonel Buendía, the protagonist of “One Hundred Years of Solitude,” and the book’s mythical village of Macondo draws heavily on Aracataca.

In his 2002 memoir, “Living to Tell the Tale,” Mr. García Márquez recalled a river trip back to Aracataca in 1950, his first trip there since childhood.

“The first thing that struck me,” he wrote, “was the silence. A material silence I could have identified blindfolded among all the silences in the world. The reverberation of the heat was so intense that you seemed to be looking at everything through undulating glass. As far as the eye could see there was no recollection of human life, nothing that was not covered by a faint sprinkling of burning dust.”

Much of his fiction unfolds in or near Macondo, just as William Faulkner, whom he admired, invented Yoknapatawpha County as the Mississippi setting for some of his own novels.

Mr. García Márquez moved to Bogotá as a teenager. He studied law there but never received a degree; he turned instead to journalism.

The late 1940s and early ’50s in Colombia were a period of civil strife known as La Violencia. The ideological causes were nebulous, but the savagery was stark: as many as 300,000 deaths. La Violencia would become the background for several of his novels.

Mr. García Márquez eked out a living writing for newspapers in Cartagena and then Barranquilla, where he lived in the garret of a brothel and saw a future in literature. “It was a bohemian life: finish at the paper at 1 in the morning, then write a poem or a short story until about 3, then go out to have a beer,” he said in an interview in 1996. “When you went home at dawn, ladies who were going to Mass would cross to the other side of the street for fear that you were either drunk or intending to mug or rape them.”

He read intensely — the Americans Hemingway, Faulkner, Twain and Melville; the Europeans Dickens, Tolstoy, Proust, Kafka and Virginia Woolf.
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“I cannot imagine how anyone could even think of writing a novel without having at least a vague of idea of the ten thousand years of literature that have gone before,” Mr. García Márquez said.But, he added, “I’ve never tried to imitate authors I’ve admired. On the contrary, I’ve done all I could not to imitate them.”As a journalist he scored a scoop when he interviewed a sailor who had been portrayed by the Colombian government as the heroic survivor of a navy destroyer lost at sea. The sailor admitted to him that the ship had been carrying a heavy load of contraband household goods, which unloosed during a storm and caused the ship to list enough to sink. His report, in 1955, infuriated Gen. Gustavo Rojas Pinilla, the country’s dictator, and Mr. García Márquez fled to Europe. He spent two years there as a foreign correspondent.

Mr. García Márquez was less impressed by Western Europe than many Latin American writers, who looked to the Old World as their cultural fountainhead. His dispatches often reflected his belief that Europeans were patronizing toward Latin America even though their own society was in decline.

He echoed these convictions in his Nobel address. Europeans, he said, “insist on measuring us with the yardstick that they use for themselves, forgetting that the ravages of life are not the same for all, and that the quest for our own identity is just as arduous and bloody for us as it was for them.”

Mr. García Márquez lost his job when his newspaper was shut down by the Rojas Pinilla regime. Stranded in Paris, he scavenged and sold bottles to survive, but he managed to begin a short novel, “In Evil Hour.”

While working on that book he took time off in 1957 to complete another short novel, “No One Writes the Colonel,” about an impoverished retired army officer, not unlike the author’s grandfather, who waits endlessly for a letter replying to his requests for a military pension. It was published to acclaim four years later. (“In Evil Hour” was also published in the early 1960s.)

Mr. García Márquez alternated between journalism and fiction in the late 1950s. While working for newspapers and magazines in Venezuela, he wrote a short-story collection, “Big Mama’s Funeral,” which incorporates the kind of magical elements he would master in “One Hundred Years of Solitude.” From 1959 to 1961 he supported the Castro revolution and wrote for Prensa Latina, the official Cuban press agency.

In 1961 he moved to Mexico City, where he would live on and off for the rest of his life. It was there, in 1965, after a four-year dry spell in which he wrote no fiction, that Mr. García Márquez began “One Hundred Years of Solitude.” The inspiration for it, he said, came to him while he was driving to Acapulco.

Returning home, he began an almost undistracted 18 months of writing while his wife, Mercedes, looked after the household. “When I was finished writing,” he recalled, “my wife said: ‘Did you really finish it? We owe $12,000.’ ”

With the book’s publication in 1967, in Buenos Aires, the family never owed a penny again. “One Hundred Years of Solitude” was sold out within days.

In following the rise and fall of the Buendía family through several generations of war and peace, affluence and poverty, the novel seemed to many critics and readers the defining saga of Latin America’s social and political history.

Mr. García Márquez made no claim to have invented magic realism; he pointed out that elements of it had appeared before in Latin American literature. But no one before him had used the style with such artistry, exuberance and power. Magic realism would soon inspire writers on both sides of the Atlantic, most notably Isabel Allende in Chile and Salman Rushdie in Britain.

“Reality is also the myths of the common people,” Mr. García Márquez told an interviewer. “I realized that reality isn’t just the police that kill people, but also everything that forms part of the life of the common people.”

He incorporated the magical on the first page, writing of “a heavy Gypsy with an untamed beard and sparrow hands” who would drag two metal ingots from door to door to demonstrate their magically magnetic power.
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“And everybody was amazed,” he wrote, “to see pots, pans, tongs and braziers tumble down from their places and beams creak from the desperation of nails and screws trying to emerge.”

In 1973, when General Pinochet overthrew Chile’s democratically elected Marxist president, Salvador Allende, who committed suicide, Mr. García Márquez vowed never to write as long as General Pinochet remained in power.
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Recent Comments
Swokart
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Mr. Marguez lead me to a BA in Literature, he created my desire. My main regret is the lack of closure for Living To Tell The Tale…r.i.p …
Tim L.
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Ah, what a loss. On reading one of the books I took up his advice for older guys, and my life was immediately improved: sit on the toilet,…
NH
just now

With him, our youth. He was the most influential and beloved writer for us, and I speak as a younger-end baby boomer.

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The Pinochet dictatorship lasted 17 years, but Mr. García Márquez released himself from his vow well before it ended. “I never thought he’d last so long,” he said in a 1997 interview with The Washington Post. “Time convinced me I was wrong. What I was doing was allowing Pinochet to stop me from writing, which means I had submitted to voluntary censorship.”

In 1975 he published his next novel, “The Autumn of the Patriarch,” about a dictator in a phantasmagorical Latin American state who rules for so many decades that nobody can recall what life was like before him. As he had predicted, some critics faulted the work for not matching the artistry of “One Hundred Years of Solitude.” But others raved about it, and it became a global best seller. He called it his best novel.

In “Chronicle of a Death Foretold,” published in 1981, Mr. García Márquez used journalistic techniques to tell a story, apparently drawn from a real incident, in which the brothers of a woman who has lost her virginity murder the man responsible, Santiago Nasar. The brothers announce their intention to avenge their family honor, but because of a variety of odd circumstances, Nasar remains unaware of his impending fate.

“Love in the Time of Cholera,” published in 1985, was Mr. García Márquez’s most romantic novel, the story of the resumption of a passionate relationship between a recently widowed septuagenarian and the lover she had broken with more than 50 years before.

By the 1980s, Mr. García Márquez appeared to have reached the pinnacle of his talent. But with each new work, he complained, he depleted the memories and life experiences that informed his fiction. “I have realized as I grow older that history, in the end, has more imagination than oneself,” he told The New York Times in 1991. “So I find myself working more and more on research.”

“The General in His Labyrinth,” published in 1989, combined imagination with historical fact to conjure up the last days of Simón Bolívar, the father of South America’s independence from Spain. The portrait of the aging Bolívar as a flatulent philanderer, abandoned and ridiculed by his onetime followers, aroused controversy on a continent that viewed him as South America’s version of George Washington. But Mr. García Márquez said his depiction had been drawn from a careful perusal of Bolívar’s personal letters.

As his fame grew, Mr. García Márquez — or Gabo, as he was called by friends — enjoyed a lifestyle he would have found inconceivable in his struggling youth. He kept homes in Mexico City, Barcelona, Paris and Cartagena, on Colombia’s Caribbean coast. He dressed fastidiously, preferring a white monotone encompassing linen suits, shirts, shoes and even watchbands.

He contributed his prestige, time and money to left-wing causes. He helped finance a Venezuelan political party. He served on the Bertrand Russell Tribunal, which investigated human rights violations in Latin America
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For more than three decades the State Department denied Mr. García Márquez a visa to travel in the United States, supposedly because he had been a member of the Colombian Communist Party in the 1950s but almost certainly because of his continuing espousal of left-wing causes and his friendships with Mr. Castro. The ban was rescinded in 1995 after President Bill Clinton had invited him to Martha’s Vineyard.

Mr. García Márquez’s ties to Mr. Castro troubled some intellectuals and human rights advocates. Susan Sontag wrote in the 1980s, “To me it’s scandalous that a writer of such enormous talent be a spokesperson for a government which has put more people in jail (proportionately to its population) than any other government in the world.”

He attributed the criticism to what he called Americans’ “almost pornographic obsession with Castro.” But he became sensitive enough about the issue to intercede on behalf of jailed Cuban dissidents.

Suffering from lymphatic cancer, which was diagnosed in 1999, Mr. García Márquez devoted most of his subsequent writing to his memoirs. One exception was the novel “Memories of My Melancholy Whores,” about the love affair between a 90-year-old man and a 14-year-old prostitute, published in 2004.

In July 2012, his brother, Jaime, was quoted as saying that Mr. García Márquez had senile dementia and had stopped writing. “Sometimes I cry because I feel like I’m losing him,” he said. But Jaime Abello, director of the Gabriel García Márquez New Journalism Foundation in Cartagena, said that the condition had not been clinically diagnosed.

Mr. Pera, the author’s editor at Random House Mondadori, said at the time that Mr. García Márquez had been working on a novel, “We’ll See Each Other in August,” but that no publication date had been scheduled. The author seemed disinclined to have it published, Mr. Pera said: “He told me, ‘This far along I don’t need to publish more.’ ”

Dozens of television and film adaptations were made of Mr. García Márquez’s works, but none achieved the critical or commercial success of his writing, and he declined requests for the movie rights to “One Hundred Years of Solitude.” The novel’s readers, he once said, “always imagine the characters as they want, as their aunt or their grandfather, and the moment you bring that to the screen, the reader’s margin for creativity disappears.”

Besides his wife, Mercedes, his survivors include two sons, Rodrigo and Gonzalo.

Mr. García Márquez attributed his rigorous, disciplined schedule in part to his sons. As a young father he took them to school in the morning and picked them up in the afternoon. During the interval — from 8 in the morning to 2 in the afternoon — he would write.

“When I finished one book, I wouldn’t write for a while,” he said in 1966. “Then I had to learn how to do it all over again. The arm goes cold; there’s a learning process you have to go through again before you rediscover the warmth that comes over you when you are writing.”

Randal C. Archibold contributed reporting from Mexico City.

Pete Seeger: An American Icon and a Hero

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Pete Seeger Taught Me We Only Move Forward When We All Pull Together

Pete Seeger died Monday night after being hospitalized in New York for six days. He was 94.

Few are more iconic and deserving of a tribute than Pete Seeger. At 93, this man long known as “America’s tuning fork” seems more visible than ever, the object of veneration around the globe, and is featured on a bevy of new CDs and DVDs. Like the just released album A More Perfect Union, which features 14 co-written new songs and guest vocalists Bruce Springsteen, Steve Earle, Tom Morello, Emmylou Harris, and Dar Williams.

Given that this American hero was actively blacklisted for years, kept off of TV and radio, his albums sometimes never even shipped out of the factories to stores, it’s a profound and welcome shift for our culture. Because Pete Seeger, besides being a songwriter of several classic American songs, such as “If I Had A Hammer,” “Where Have All The Flowers Gone?” and “Turn, Turn, Turn” is also an authentic historic link to the tradition of American popular music of the 20th century as created and developed with cohorts Woody Guthrie, Leadbelly, Cisco Houston, Malvina Reynolds, Lee Hays and the rest.

“All songwriters are links in a chain,” Pete said many times. It’s a foundational quote used a multitude of times since by those who understood him, and is the core to the book Songwriters On Songwriting: that despite genre, generation, style or format, and despite the music industry’s need to segregate songwriters and musicians into separate bins for maximum marketing potential, all songwriters are connected. And all songwriters build on that which came before, so that Woody’s stream of brilliance triggered Pete’s tuneful poetry, which in turn greatly influenced Bob Dylan, whose work impacted Lennon and the Beatles, and so on. It is all connected, and it’s a connection that continues forever, and remarkably not without the presence of Pete Seeger still living in our world.

The man never sold out. It’s true that he lived in a handmade house in upstate Beacon, New York, with his wife of many decades, Toshi, where he chopped wood throughout the winter to warm his home. Last time I saw him – he was 90 – he carried both his banjo and his 12-string on his back and strode tall and long as Lincoln through bustling, brisk Manhattan. Although he hero-ized his old pal Woody Guthrie for years in his books and columns he’s written, Pete’s lived the more saintly life by far. While Woody walked out on more than one family more than once, Pete never abandoned his wife or kids, even when the blacklist made it hard to get good work. “I always made a living,” he said, but his sorrow at being so castigated seems never far, considering his magnitude of love for America and his traditions. He’s always been more than a popular entertainer. Like his dad, Charles Seeger, he’s a musicologist, in love with the music and traditions of this and all countries, and quite adept at expounding in great depth about the specificities of indigenous music throughout the globe, and the folk-process that allowed it to brew and expand here and abroad.

He’s also a man of some myth, still infamously blamed for threatening to axe Bob Dylan’s electric cords at Newport to keep the folk legend from “going electric.” It’s wildly untrue: Pete was simply disturbed that the mix – which was awful – made it so nobody could hear the brilliance of Dylan’s words. Pete was a champion of Bob’s songwriting from the start, elevating him to legendary status by performing and recording countless Dylan classics like “A Hard Rain

’s A-Gonna Fall.” When Bob was interviewed, as soon as Pete’s name was breathed, Dylan said, “He’s a great man, Pete Seeger,” and has referred to him as a “living saint.” It stems from Dylan’s recognition that to Pete – as it was to Woody – these songs mean a whole lot more than a way to make a buck. They were truly folk songs – songs of the people – songs of hope and compassion, songs of trials, tribulations but also triumphs. Songs of the unions, of the working men. Songs of change. Bob, like Pete and Woody, recognized a solemn obligation to the world as a songwriter that was about the truth more than it was about popular entertainment. “See, to Pete and Woody,” Dylan said, “the airwaves were sacred. And if they’d hear something false, it was on the airwaves that were sacred. Their songs weren’t false.”

Pete’s never lived a false moment, even when the world tried to sway him. When his group The Weavers had pop success with chart-topping versions of Pete and Leadbelly’s “Kisses Sweeter Than Wine,” for example, he’d refuse to stay at the fancy hotels with his bandmates, preferring to sleep on a friend’s couch. Even now into his 10th decade, he still protests the wars and other evils in the winter winds on New York thoroughfares.

So this era of people like Bruce Springsteen celebrating both the reality and the legend that is Pete Seeger is a beautiful if unexpected development in American culture. But it all makes sense. He’s the guy who did, after all, adapt the verses from Ecclesiastes (in his song “Turn,Turn, Turn”) that instructs with timeless wisdom, “To everything there is a purpose, and a time, under heaven.”

Songwriters On Songwriting by writer Paul Zollo features 62 interviews with legendary songwriters. The first interview with Pete Seeger is the very first chapter of the book.

Published on Sep 21, 2013
Pete Seeger performs “This Land is Your Land” with Farm Aid board artists John Mellencamp, Willie Nelson, Dave Matthews and Neil Young live at the Farm Aid concert in Saratoga Springs, NY on September 21, 2013. Farm Aid was started by Willie Nelson, Neil Young and John Mellencamp in 1985 to keep family farmers on the land and has worked since then to make sure everyone has access to good food from family farmers. Dave Matthews joined Farm Aid’s board of directors in 2001.
For more information about Farm Aid, visit: http://farmaid.org/youtube

Farewell, Gary Grimshaw: Rock Art Legend

Gary Grimshaw by Leni Sinclair

Gary Grimshaw – Photo Leni Sinclair

Tribute to the man whose posters and covers defined the Detroit rock scene.

GARY GRIMSHAW, WHO DIED last week in Detroit’s Receiving Hospital aged 67, was as much of a defining presence on the Detroit rock scene of the ’60s and ’70s as John Sinclair and the MC5 – with whom he’d grown up.

“Grimshaw was the best artist in our neighbourhood,” the 5’s Wayne Kramer told Gary Graff of Michigan’s Morning Sun last week. “We drew hot rod cars and he knew the secret of how to capture chrome, which made him the coolest to a Downriver greaser like me.”

With a mind-bending style that was a grittier, more dystopian cousin of the West Coast poster oeuvre minted by Alton Kelley, Stanley Mouse and others – work he had absorbed as a sailor on shore leave in the Bay Area – Grimshaw designed posters for shows by the MC5, The Who, Hendrix, The Yardbirds and Cream, and became synonymous with Detroit’s counterculture Mecca, the Grande Ballroom.

Grimshaw’s MC5 association led to him designing the cover for their incendiary Kick Out The Jams album and serving as Minister Of Art for MC5 manager-provocateur John Sinclair’s stoner-revolutionary White Panther Party. Grimshaw’s work also graced publications including the Ann Arbor Sun, San Francisco Oracle and Creem magazine, for whom he served as Associate Art Editor.

Although plagued with ill health in recent years, his connection with the Detroit rock scene, after a return to the city in 2003, remained umbilical, and Grimshaw designed posters for the Detroit Cobras, The Dirtbombs and The White Stripes.

Grimshaw  was the co-author, with photographer Leni Sinclair, of the 2012 book Detroit Rocks! A Pictorial History Of Motor City Rock And Roll 1965-1975. His art work can be purchased from http://www.garygrimshaw.com/

In Memoriam 2013: Gone but not forgotten

Svetlana Kanarikov walks behind Kirill's white coffin on Thursday outside the Synod Cathedral of the Mother of the Sign on E. 93rd St.

Svetlana Kanarikov walks behind Kirill’s white coffin on Thursday outside the Synod Cathedral of the Mother of the Sign on E. 93rd St.

This is a tribute to our friends, neighbors, real life heroes, musicians and artists that died during the course of the year. Inevitably, the list is incomplete, but it provides a sense of how much talent and vision has been lost in the past 12 months – and how much evil exists in this world.

Our beloved friend Jake, photographer and filmmaker. Suicide.

Our neighbor Courtney, animal lover and activist. Suicide.

Michael Hastings, journalist and war correspondent, Rolling Stone Magazine contributor. Accident?

Nelson Mandela,  real life hero, freedom fighter.

Kirill, a 3-year-old little boy thrown to his death from a 52-story Manhattan apartment building by his father   — who then killed himself — out of spite for his wife.

PET – Puppy Doe, the pitbull puppy brutally abused by his owners — considered, the only humane thing left to do was to put her to sleep. Tortured.

R.I.P – All of PETA’s Slaughtered  Kittens, Puppies

 

Artists who died in 2013, here’s a quick list of the musicians.

  • Marian McPartland (d. Aug. 20): “Piano Jazz” theme music
  • Van Cliburn (d. Feb. 27): Tchaikovsky, Piano Concerto No. 1
  • Bebo Valdés (d. March 22): “Con Poco Coco”
  • George Jones (d. April 26): “She Thinks I Still Care”
  • Georges Moustaki (d. May 23): “Le Métèque”
  • Lou Reed (d. Oct. 27): “Walk On The Wild Side”
  • Chico Hamilton (d. Nov. 25): “Waltz Of The Mallets”
  • Ray Manzarek (d. May 20): “Light My Fire” (The Doors)
  • Bobby “Blue” Bland (d. June 23): “Turn On Your Love Light”
  • Gloria Lynne (d. Oct. 15): “I Wish You Love”
  • Henri Dutilleux (d. May 22): Symphony No. 1
  • Patti Page (d. Jan. 1): “Tennessee Waltz”
  • Eydie Gorme (d. Aug. 10): “Blame It On The Bossa Nova”
  • Patty Andrews (d. Jan. 30): “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy”
  • Donald Byrd (d. Feb. 4): “Hush”
  • John LaMontaine (d. April 29): Piano Concerto No. 1
  • Yusef Lateef (d. Dec. 23): “Meditation No. 1”
  • Kongar-Ol Ondar (d. July 25): “Kongurey”
  • Janos Starker (d. April 28): Bach, Cello Suite No. 2 In D Minor
  • John Tavener (d. Nov. 12): Song for Athene
  • George Beverly Shea (d. April 16): “How Great Thou Art”
  • Damon Harris (d. Feb. 18): “Papa Was A Rollin’ Stone” (The Temptations)
  • Richie Havens (d. April 22): “Freedom”
  • George Duke (d. Aug. 5): “Stones Of Orion”
  • Ray Price (d. Dec. 16): “Crazy Arms”
  • Fred Katz (d. Sept. 7): “The Sage”
  • Jim Hall (d. Dec. 10): “All Across The City” (with Bill Evans)
  • Marian McPartland: “Long Ago (And Far Away)”