What did he say? "My sole criterion is, whatever we do, it ought to be in the context of success." So said President Bush while explaining that no one should expect troop withdrawals from Iraq any time soon. "Iraq" and "success" aren't typically thought as being within the same context, but there's always a first time. Anyway, the "generals" -- ours -- "ought to be concerned about making sure there's enough of a presence so that the provincial elections [in October] can be carried off in such a way that democracy advances." I don't know about you, but voting with occupying troops looking over my shoulder doesn't exactly make me think of a healthy, democratic body politic.
Fred Kaplan, one of the most prescient, articulate, and persuasive critics of the war and the occupation writes that Bush's successor will face an Iraq in worse condition than at any time during the Bush presidency. For one thing, thanks to internal Iraqi politics, there may not be provincial elections. The supposed reconciliation between factions looks more and more illusory each day. Next, the vaunted "Sunni Awakening," where Sunni tribes and militias combat Al Qaeda in Iraq may have run its course, in part because of insufficient U. S. advocacy for Sunnis with the central government. Kaplan is always good and well worth reading.
The United States is an increasingly irrelevant presence in the never ending quest for Mideast peace...Is there any doubt about who the real winners in Iraq are?...A terrific letter to the editor here. Keep it in mind the next time someone questions Barack Obama's patriotism because he sometimes doesn't put his hand over his heart during "The Star-Spangled Banner"...Greg Oden, the 20-year old center for the Portland Trailblazers, blogs w(ith more dignity than any of the elders of the Tennessee Republican party in urging other young people to support Barack Obama. More here from the Seattle Times' Garry Washburn...Oden has more dignity than either John McCain or Bill O'Reilly, too. No doubt Michelle Obama feels better knowing that O'Reilly isn't willing to lynch her without "evidence"...Speaking of sweet swings, has anyone ever made hitting a home run look more effortless than Ken Griffey, Jr.? This will be my 47th season attending baseball games and I've yet to see that hitter.
Before there was Stevie Ray Vaughan, there was Johnny Winter, the original Texas guitar hero. Sometime in 1972, I went to a garage sale down the street from my parents' house. I had gotten word that the neighbors who lived there were selling some records their kids had left at home after moving out. And so, for 25 cents, I got the first album by a guy I'd heard of but never heard. Honestly, my 17-year old ears had trouble grappling with the rawness of Johnny Winter. I knew Winter was a terrific guitarist because a guitar-playing friend of mine had told me so. But I'd never heard a serious blues album before -- I lived in Kingsville, Texas -- and Winter's approach was a lot different than Simon and Garfunkel, the Moody Blues, and Black Sabbath. I can hear now what I couldn't hear then: That his playing came from within, from lived experience rather than detached observation or showmanship. In any case, something about the record kept calling me back, especially the rough acoustic blues of "Dallas" (listen to it here).
"Dallas" threw me for a loop. The throaty, rasping vocal was all wrong and yet it came out all right. The blunt, violent lyrics had nothing to do with my life or the way I wanted my life to be. But they bespoke a swaggering independence and readiness to stand up for oneself that anybody wanted. And the confrontational guitar playing -- nothing like the smooth filigrees of Carlos Santana that I loved and still love -- glued together a 2:45 paean to male youth, vitality, and nerve unlike the sensitive, "meaningful" lyrics of James Taylor. I'd never heard anything like "Dallas," and it scared me a bit that it resonated so personally.
Thirty-six years later, I hear "Dallas" and understand that Johnny Winter wanted to write a Robert Johnson song. Now I can hear a 25-year old white guitarist with an atypical knowledge of and respect for blues history. I can also hear a young performer brimming with so much confidence that he didn't want to merely cover the master's work, he wanted to recreate it in his own image. The ultimate brilliance of "Dallas" is that Johnny Winter succeeded in doing just that.
So why did it take me so long to see the guy perform? I dunno. But for whatever reason, it took until last night at Seattle's Showbox, where PK, my friend Mark W., and I took in a tightly packed and exceptionally played 75-minute set by Winter, accompanied for the most part by a bassist and drummer. Time has not been kind to Johnny Winter. The ravages of a devastating mid-70's heroin addiction have left him hunched over and unable to stand while performing. (PK remarked that, in photos, Winter looks like a "human syringe.") His voice, while it can carry a tune, no longer rumbles from the back of a throat that must be raw by now. But that guitar playing...
Whatever disappeared with youth is more than made up for by experience. Performing is still a labor of love for the man, and through his guitar he channeled 50 years of playing the blues. He knows the genre and his instrument like the back of his hand and he plays them like what they are: The true love of his life. One perfectly developed solo after another spilled forth, and although he favored mid-tempo numbers, it was the slow blues like "Red House" that shined brightest. For "Red House," he strung a series of six solos together, one progressing naturally to the next and each impossibly improving on the one before it. It was as pure a display of sheer virtuosity as I've seen. Mark turned to me to say that "We're in the presence of the gods." No argument from me.
Winter reached back to the beginnings of his estimable career and delivered fresh renditions of old songs. He played new stuff and it sounded great. I never heard a superfluous of self-indulgent note. His tone has softened: He's largely abandoned his stinging, air-puncturing style for a slurred, warmer approach that seems better suited to middle age while conceding nothing to it. For the encore, he played slide for the first time and finished up with a blistering version of Bob Dylan's "Highway 61 Revisited," a song he perfected back when Nixon was president. As Johnny Winter has had occasion to remind us through the years, he's still alive and well.
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