Damp Frogs

Even a slight rain is enough to set the frogs singing. Somewhere in the arroyo west of here, I can hear them. I've always been fond of amphibians, ever since the days when I would catch them in the vernal pool behind my house, when I was eight or nine years old. I would release the small frogs into the lawn, and keep the water running under the bushes by the rock wall. For days, I would find the little frogs hopping about in the grass. A few would remain (or survive) longer. One big old frog lived in a crevice in the rock wall for more than a year. I would hear his deep croak in the night, and it was very comforting. The only frogs who have ever lived close to this house were the tree frogs, and I haven't seen any of them for several years now. I'd like to have a pond nearby. As it is, the frogs are so distant that their chorus is drowned out by the sighing of the wind in the pine trees. That's a nice sound, too, but I'd rather hear the frogs.

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I have written this entire entry while there is a box on my page that says "Juno Error Detected. It has, in fact, been there since several minutes before I began writing this entry. I visited several pages after the box appeared. The message in the box informs me that the program will be shut down. Usually, when I get one of these boxes, I click the "OK" button at the bottom of it, and the program shuts down, after producing a few more error messages about invalid page faults. This time, I just moved the box to the side of the screen and kept using the computer. The conclusion to which I have come as a result of this experience is that the Juno Error in question is, in fact, the appearance of the damned box itself! I must find another ISP!

Little Girl Blue

It rained for a couple of hours this afternoon. I think it was raining that day when I went into Sach's Record Store at Ninth and Broadway in Los Angeles. Since I went to that store many times, I may be conflating this with some other visit, but I believe that the particular occasion in my memory is one on which I ducked in to avoid a sudden downpour brought on by one of these spring storms. It was the day I bought the Nina Simone album.

I bought four records that day. Two of them I don't recall. Of the other two, one was Mavis Meets Shorty, by jazz singer Mavis Rivers and trumpeter Shorty Rogers. This was an album of mostly sprightly, optimistic up-tempo songs, as was usual for Mavis Rivers, who had one of the most cheerful voices in jazz -- certainly as bright and sunny as Ella Fitzgerald at her most exuberant. Mavis couldn't have done a dark and moody rendition of even the gloomiest of ballads to save her life -- or her career. She never became a major star, but released a long string of pleasant albums which achieved modest success. Still, that particular album became one of my favorites, and I listened to it often.

The other album I remember buying that day was that by Nina Simone. I don't remember the title, if in fact it had one, but I remember the cover. It was a picture of a stream in Central Park in New York City, with the old skyscrapers (one of them since replaced by the appalling Trump Tower) east of Grand Army Plaza reflected in it, on a gray day. It was a moody photograph for a moody album. I had only heard one song from the album, played once on the radio. It was the most melancholy rendition of Little Girl Blue that I had ever heard, in a very simple arrangement with Nina Simone accompanied by her own piano. On the strength of that one song, I bought the album, and never regretted it. In both style and content, it was almost the antithesis of the Mavis Rivers album. Almost every song was dark and brooding, some with an undercurrent of anger or vengefulness, all with a deep sense of loss. One exception was a version of My Baby Just Cares for Me done in a tempo that was almost sprightly. She even let out a short laugh at the end of the song. Yet even here, in this optimistic lyric, Simone's voice managed to convey a sense of underlying uncertainty, and even of menace, as though Baby might fool around on her, and if he ever did, then Baby better watch out! Nina Simone was a remarkably subtle and expressive singer.

It is easy enough to describe Mavis Rivers' sunny and transparent voice and style, but Nina Simone is different. Her singing had weight, and presence, to be sure. There was always an edge to it, and yet through its rough and sometimes bitter tones, there was always a sense of triumph. She was like some of the classic blues singers, such as Bessie Smith or Ma Rainey. It was the voice of an indomitable spirit. Her piano playing was also quite remarkable. She could play all the wrong chords to a song, and make them sound exactly right, as though that was the way the song ought to have been written. Nina Simone did things her way, and in shattering the listener's expectations, conveyed a sense of joy that shone through even the gloomiest of songs.

As this afternoon's quick storm moved east, the evening sun escaped the drifting clouds even as the rain continued to fall. Through my window I could see the bright light falling on the pale young leaves of the oaks, with the emerging blue sky behind them and a curtain of silver rain before them. It occurred to me that this might be the best way to describe Nina Simone's music: it was like light falling through a storm.


NINA SIMONE

1933-2003

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