I produced this promo last week for the Brockton Symphony's final orchestral concert of the 2014-15 season, "Rule Britannia." The concert wraps up an epic three-year Symphonic Voyage. You can see the musical "places" we visited at the BrSO web site, http://www.brocktonsymphony.org/.
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
The Announcer is now a Performer!
On March 22nd I am a performer IN the show, not just the announcer or Master of Ceremonies for the show. Here's the text of the promo:
The Brockton Symphony Orchestra presents a Chamber Music Concert Sunday, March 22nd at 3 PM at the First Evangelical Lutheran Church. Say goodbye to winter with spicy tangos by local composer Erik Lindgren, “Blue Tango” and “The Syncopated Clock” by Leroy Anderson, and Lindgren’s Neo-“Baroque-A-Go-Go.” The young and young-at-heart will enjoy Saint-Saens’ “Carnival of the Animals,” with the chamber players, two pianists, Amy Korim and Carol Chaffee, and The Voice of the Symphony, Harry Willliams. [w/ reverb: Camille Saint-Saens was wracked with pains, when people addressed him as Saint-Sanes… he turned with metronome and fife to glorify other forms of life.] Tickets are Fifteen dollars. That’s 3 PM, Sunday, March 22nd at the First Evangelical Lutheran Church, 900 Main Street in Brockton. The Brockton Symphony – A Greater Brockton Treasure.
Friday, March 6, 2015
professional voice-over artist Harry Roger Williams III
It means a lot to me to see Bill Anderson refer to me as, "client and professional voice-over artist Harry Roger Williams III" on his Facebook page. I replied, "When I decided to evolve from "The Voice of the Brockton Symphony Orchestra" and radio commercial narrator to Audiobook Narrator, I promised myself to only give voice to positive works that can actually improve lives. I could not think of a better book to begin with than The Anderson Method. Thanks to Bill Anderson for this opportunity to 'spread the word.'"
Click HERE to be taken to a page where you can hear my narration for free, and also get Bill's book - the one I used to shed 50 pounds after my heart attack - at a discount. If I could have gotten my HTML coding right, you could have done it by clicking on the image of Bill's post. I still have so much to learn about technology!
Monday, March 2, 2015
So much genius in our musical world!
One of my musical heroes, Van Dyke Parks, wrote, “Erik Lindgren scores consummate musicianship from the spatially abstract to a defining American vernacular. Erik Lindgren IS American music” - Van Dyke Parks
The Boston Globe | Music
SCENE & HEARD
Lindgren remains drawn toward eclectic musical mix
By Jon Garelick | GLOBE CORRESPONDENT | SEPTEMBER 25, 2014
Those revelations set him on his path: a dual love of classical modernism and left-of-center pop and rock. When he assembled his first band, Moving Parts, in the late ’70s, he aspired to combine “the subtleties of Anton Webern with the pure rock and roll anarchy of the Stooges’ ‘L.A. Blues.’ ”
Lindgren, whose classical chamber music of the last 10 years will get a thorough airing in a 60th birthday concert at Tufts on Sept. 27, has had the kind of career that obliterates categories. Trained with a master’s degree in piano and composition (from the University of Iowa), he’s written classical chamber music, as well as “chamber rock” for the band Birdsongs of the Mesozoic.
Throughout the ’80s and ’90s, he was also one of the area’s most prodigious composers of commercial jingles. In addition, he runs his own recording studio, Sounds Interesting, at his home in Middleborough, and his own labels, including Arf! Arf!, best known for reissue compilations of ’60s psychedelic and garage rock as well as all manner of oddities and “outsider” music. (Arf! Arf!’s “The Barclay Story” includes titles like “Eastern PA ’60s Soul.”)
“I always say that I’m mining the bottom 5,000 instead of the top 40,” says Lindgren by phone in Allentown, Pa., where he’s attending a weeklong record festival that focuses strictly on 45s. Lindgren estimates his collection of psychedelic and garage-rock 45s numbers 10,000.
His taste for obscurities goes back to that Small Faces epiphany: “There’s this whole body of music that’s not popular but that’s equally if not more valid . . . music that the average American will never hear, yet is worth searching out.”
By the same token, Lindgren was taken with Satie because he cut against the grain of the dominant German tradition. “I remember my composition teacher at Tufts said, ‘Oh yes, Erik Satie, he’s a wonderful minor composer.’ And I never believed it. To me, he was major. He was up there with Beethoven.”
The new, two-disc kitchen-sink compilation “Yin Yang A-Go-Go: 360 Degrees of Organized Sound (1972-2005)” offers a portable Lindgren. It includes, among many other things, tracks from Birdsongs of the Mesozoic, which he founded with Roger Miller in 1980; the co-written Willie “Loco” Alexander single “In the Pink”; solo studio experiments under the moniker Space Negros; and a sampling of his “hit” jingles, from WBZ-TV’s “Newsline,” the Christmas Tree Shops, and Waltham Camera & Stereo.
Some pieces on “Yin Yang A-Go-Go” are of more historical interest than lasting musical appeal, such as the track from Moving Parts, the ’70s band that included Lindgren, guitarist Miller, and bassist Clint Conley. The latter two would eventually spin off to create Mission of Burma.
But throughout the two discs you can always sense Lindgren’s curiosity and daring. “Listen to the Angels Shoutin’ ” is from the 2005 Birdsongs album “Extreme Spirituals,” a collaboration with the gospel singer Oral Moses. The piece is like an African-American spiritual as set by a French modernist, Moses’s powerful, stentorian vocals backed by a haunting flute part, percussion, and synthesizer.
“Flyte” is an eight-minute tone poem chronicling a flight from Miami to Buenos Aires narrated by Captain Angela Masson, a top-ranked female jet pilot who has recorded under the name Tangela Tricoli. The alluring mix of melodies for flutes, bassoon, clarinet, and piano suggests anticipation, ascent, the return to earth — a rare, uncluttered emotional directness. (It’s on 2006’s “Classical A-Go-Go,” by Lindgren’s Frankenstein Consort.)
“All sounds are equal to him,” Conley says of Lindgren. “It doesn’t matter if it’s the Stooges or Stockhausen.”
Saxophonist and flutist Ken Field, one of Lindgren’s longtime collaborators in Birdsongs of the Mesozoic (who play a Pipeline show at the Middle East on Oct. 4, and at Johnny D’s on Oct. 17), calls him “a great composer.” But, he adds, “If somebody only studies Bach, they might end up sounding a little like Bach. But when somebody has a really odd set of influences that are deeply embedded in the brain, they come up with an odd result.”
I mention to Lindgren a quote about Satie from biographer Rollo Myers in the liner notes to “Classical A-Go-Go”: “Some have called him the greatest musician of all time [while] his enemies . . . called him a buffoon. Happily, he was neither.”
Lindgren cackles with delight. “He’s just a guy who had a vision. We’re not talking Beethoven’s Ninth or Wagner’s operas. But in some ways, he was as radical as the Ramones.”
BONUS TRACKS
[Info on then-upcoming non-Lindgren concerts omitted by Harry]
Jon Garelick can be reached at jon.garelick4@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter @jgarelick.
Erik Lindgren 60th Birthday Chamber A-Go-Go Concert
Distler Performance Hall, Tufts University,
20 Talbot Ave., Medford 617-627-3679
http://www.as.tufts.edu/music
Date of concert: Saturday at 7 p.m.
Ticket price: Free
Sunday, February 15, 2015
"One nation under gods"
For years I have promised myself to start a movement to add one letter, "s," to the Pledge of Allegiance, reciting "One nation under gods." The audacity of author Peter Manseau to use it for his book! Turns out at least 3 books use this title. Oh well...
Two hundred years ago Congress debated purchasing Thomas Jefferson's personal library, after Britain burned the original Library of Congress collection in 1814.
In spite of its reputation for liberty, Massachusetts was represented by Federalist Cyrus King, who "declared that the books would be better off burned than bought with public funds." Thankfully, nearby Vermont sent Representative James Fisk, who "reminded his fellow congressmen that King came from a state once known for hanging witches, and wondered pointedly whether that practice might also be reintroduced."
I love the conclusion near the end of the article below, "In matters of faith, Jefferson argued, 'uniformity of opinion' was neither desirable nor attainable, for 'difference of opinion is advantageous in religion.' In his day and ours, the tension between competing beliefs is not a problem to be solved, but an ongoing negotiation."
The Boston Globe | Ideas
How a Christian Congress embraced Jefferson’s ‘atheistical’ library: Two centuries ago, a religiously uniform legislature planted the seed for a wide-ranging Library of Congress
By Peter Manseau | GLOBE CORRESPONDENT | JANUARY 30, 2015
AS THE 114TH CONGRESS convened for the first time earlier this month, the Pew Research Center released a report noting that it was the most ethnically diverse in history: 17 percent of the House and Senate is now nonwhite. But another Pew report found that by a different metric, Congress is almost shockingly united. Both the Senate and the House of Representatives are overwhelmingly Christian, with more than 90 percent of each belonging to a church.
Picture Caption: The Koran once owned by Thomas Jefferson, shown at the Library of Congress.
In these rancorous days, it’s tempting to look for a glimmer of hope in the possibility that so many lawmakers might have at least one thing in common. Yet in their near uniformity of belief, members of Congress do not reflect the current composition of a nation in which one in five claim no religious affiliation. To be sure, there is great variety among those who call themselves Christians, but it is nonetheless worrisome to some that so many share the tenets of a single faith: a hint that the broader and more varied concerns of the American public are incompletely represented by our elected officials.
The Pew report on religion, however, came not only at the start of a new legislative session, but during a month that marks the 200th anniversary of the most colorful debate on the value of diverse religious opinions ever heard in the US Legislature—and the outcome of that debate should be reassuring to doubters. The occasion was a House vote on a bill allowing Congress to procure Thomas Jefferson’s library at Monticello as a replacement for the original collection destroyed when the British burned Washington in the waning days of the War of 1812.
This tense moment in 1815 is a reminder that, as a country, we have been far more spiritually diverse than we often recognize. It also sheds light on the ways the United States has been able to generate great and broad-based institutions even when those in charge are, on the face of it, more similar than the citizens they represent. Ultimately, what happened would establish our expansive modern Library of Congress—and offer an example worth remembering amid the apparent religious uniformity of our elected federal government today.
AT ITS FOUNDING, the Library of Congress was primarily a reference collection intended for the use of Congress itself. Proposing volumes for its shelves in an 1802 letter, President Jefferson included only titles related to “those branches of science which belong to the deliberations of the members as statesmen.” When the British General Robert Ross set fire to the White House, the Capitol, and other public buildings in August 1814, 3,000 such books went up in smoke.
Five years out of office and retired to Monticello, Jefferson heard of the library’s destruction and decided to act. “I learn from the newspapers that the vandalism of our enemy has triumphed at Washington over science as well as the arts,” he wrote in a letter submitted to members of Congress. Suspecting they would like to rebuild the collection but might find it difficult during wartime, he proposed the country buy his own carefully curated personal library as a replacement.
When Jefferson first offered to make his books available, the most vexing matter to some critics was the expense. At a price determined by a Georgetown bookseller of $23,950 for 6,487 books (in today’s dollars, an average price of more than $50 each), the library was no bargain. As the debate about the purchase dragged on for months in the press and through a vote in the Senate, however, this concern was eclipsed by another one: the supposedly “atheistical” character of the former president’s book collection.
Far from strictly atheist, Jefferson’s books included texts from a number of religious traditions. He owned a score of Bibles, a Koran, a history of “heathen gods,” and works by Deist philosophers—and that was precisely the problem. Such heterodox titles reflected his opinion that religion should be a personal affair, guided by curiosity and reason.
The vitriol Jefferson’s interests inspired, however, demonstrated how sensitive such a perspective has always been in the United States. In a nation often at odds over the question of how porous the wall of separation between church and state should be, the public dimension of private belief was and remains a reliable source of controversy. Though only dozens of the more than 6,000 books dealt with religion, they were seen as a window into a dangerously pluralistic worldview.
By the time the bill came up for a vote in the House on Jan. 26, 1815, Jefferson’s critics had stirred themselves to a witch hunt. The Federalist representative Cyrus King of Massachusetts argued that the character of the man who assembled the library, and the place where he had acquired much of it—France—was evidence enough that the collection contained “many books of irreligious and immoral tendency.” Attempting to prevent “a general dissemination of this infidel philosophy,” King declared that the books would be better off burned than bought with public funds.
Other members of Congress found this talk of book burning too much to take. Representative James Fisk of Vermont, a Democratic-Republican like Jefferson, reminded his fellow congressmen that King came from a state once known for hanging witches, and wondered pointedly whether that practice might also be reintroduced. Representative Robert Wright of Maryland accused King of wanting to start an Inquisition. To this charge, King replied that he had no such intention—at least not while his party was in the minority.
Even then, party politics ruled the day. With the Democratic-Republicans holding a majority in both houses, King’s Federalists saw the purchase of the library as an abuse of power directly enriching a political rival. As extreme as that position might seem from a distance of centuries, 47 percent of the House agreed with King. In the end, the bill passed, but barely.
President James Madison approved the act of Congress purchasing Jefferson’s library on Jan. 30, 1815, and word reached Monticello in early February. By May of that year, 10 wagons had hauled the books to the national capital, providing a model for the enormously wide-ranging collection the Library of Congress would become. True to Jefferson’s sense that “there is in fact no subject to which a member of Congress may not have occasion to refer,” it today represents a proudly diverse American heritage of knowledge, interest, and belief.
[If you click the link to the article, in title above, a picture is linked to photos of the Jefferson Collection in today's Library of Congress. Note added by Harry]
TWO HUNDRED YEARS on, the dispute over Jefferson’s library provides an unexpected view into the ways religion can transform even noncontroversial subjects into bitter culture wars. Today, we pay lip service to the idea that the personal beliefs of elected representatives should not matter. But the range of contentious contemporary issues informed by faith—from health care to terrorism, same-sex marriage to corporate personhood—suggests that religious diversity may have as many implications for the 114th Congress as it did for the 13th.
Yet the fact that the nearly all-encompassing Library of Congress has roots in a debate about “infidel philosophy” is not merely a reminder that politicized religious conflicts have been with us from the beginning. It also suggests that even elected bodies whose range of belief is narrower than the nation’s as a whole can give rise to institutions that support all of us.
Varied though they were, the religious perspectives found in Jefferson’s library barely scratched the surface of the beliefs at large in the young United States. Already, the country beyond the Capitol was home to many others: small Jewish communities growing in most cities, adherents of Islam and African religions practicing their faith in secret on slave plantations, Native American movements keeping traditional beliefs alive even as the dominant faith was forced upon them.
With no participation in the crafting of laws under which they lived, religious minorities exerted influence in ways difficult to measure except through the growing eclecticism of certain of our historical leaders. Had anyone prepared a report on the religious affiliations of politicians in 1815, the church-going owner of the library full of “infidel philosophy” would have been counted as a Christian himself. But Jefferson was a Christian shaped by the religious differences around him.
Many of today’s lawmakers likewise may be more spiritually diverse than any mere accounting can describe. Among the hundreds of members of Congress sworn into office with their hands on a Bible was a Buddhist—Georgia Representative Hank Johnson—who used the Christian text as a nod to tradition rather than a statement of belief. When the then-mayor of Newark (and now senator) Cory Booker announced his interest in seeking higher office in 2012, this Baptist from New Jersey did so beside a stack of books that would have been right at home at Monticello: a New Testament, a Hebrew Bible, a Koran, and a Bhagavad Gita. And in 2007, the first Muslim member of Congress, Representative Keith Ellison of Minnesota, took his oath of office using Jefferson’s own copy of the “Alcoran of Mohammed,” part of that collection of books trucked from Charlottesville to Washington 192 years before.
Whether it takes the form of the few representatives who hold faiths outside Christianity or Christians with surprisingly broad perspectives, there is reason to believe that there is more variation in our religiously united Congress than there may seem. And, even with the shadow of spiritual strife so often visible in both our present and our past, if religious disagreement is the fate of the nation, that might not be a bad thing.
In matters of faith, Jefferson argued, “uniformity of opinion” was neither desirable nor attainable, for “difference of opinion is advantageous in religion.” In his day and ours, the tension between competing beliefs is not a problem to be solved, but an ongoing negotiation. One day, a greater variety of professed beliefs, among those representing a nation of all faiths and no faith, may more clearly show the advantages of such difference of opinion within government as well.
Peter Manseau is the author, most recently, of “One Nation Under Gods: A New American History.”
Two hundred years ago Congress debated purchasing Thomas Jefferson's personal library, after Britain burned the original Library of Congress collection in 1814.
In spite of its reputation for liberty, Massachusetts was represented by Federalist Cyrus King, who "declared that the books would be better off burned than bought with public funds." Thankfully, nearby Vermont sent Representative James Fisk, who "reminded his fellow congressmen that King came from a state once known for hanging witches, and wondered pointedly whether that practice might also be reintroduced."
I love the conclusion near the end of the article below, "In matters of faith, Jefferson argued, 'uniformity of opinion' was neither desirable nor attainable, for 'difference of opinion is advantageous in religion.' In his day and ours, the tension between competing beliefs is not a problem to be solved, but an ongoing negotiation."
The Boston Globe | Ideas
How a Christian Congress embraced Jefferson’s ‘atheistical’ library: Two centuries ago, a religiously uniform legislature planted the seed for a wide-ranging Library of Congress
By Peter Manseau | GLOBE CORRESPONDENT | JANUARY 30, 2015
Picture Caption: The Koran once owned by Thomas Jefferson, shown at the Library of Congress.
In these rancorous days, it’s tempting to look for a glimmer of hope in the possibility that so many lawmakers might have at least one thing in common. Yet in their near uniformity of belief, members of Congress do not reflect the current composition of a nation in which one in five claim no religious affiliation. To be sure, there is great variety among those who call themselves Christians, but it is nonetheless worrisome to some that so many share the tenets of a single faith: a hint that the broader and more varied concerns of the American public are incompletely represented by our elected officials.
The Pew report on religion, however, came not only at the start of a new legislative session, but during a month that marks the 200th anniversary of the most colorful debate on the value of diverse religious opinions ever heard in the US Legislature—and the outcome of that debate should be reassuring to doubters. The occasion was a House vote on a bill allowing Congress to procure Thomas Jefferson’s library at Monticello as a replacement for the original collection destroyed when the British burned Washington in the waning days of the War of 1812.
This tense moment in 1815 is a reminder that, as a country, we have been far more spiritually diverse than we often recognize. It also sheds light on the ways the United States has been able to generate great and broad-based institutions even when those in charge are, on the face of it, more similar than the citizens they represent. Ultimately, what happened would establish our expansive modern Library of Congress—and offer an example worth remembering amid the apparent religious uniformity of our elected federal government today.
AT ITS FOUNDING, the Library of Congress was primarily a reference collection intended for the use of Congress itself. Proposing volumes for its shelves in an 1802 letter, President Jefferson included only titles related to “those branches of science which belong to the deliberations of the members as statesmen.” When the British General Robert Ross set fire to the White House, the Capitol, and other public buildings in August 1814, 3,000 such books went up in smoke.
Five years out of office and retired to Monticello, Jefferson heard of the library’s destruction and decided to act. “I learn from the newspapers that the vandalism of our enemy has triumphed at Washington over science as well as the arts,” he wrote in a letter submitted to members of Congress. Suspecting they would like to rebuild the collection but might find it difficult during wartime, he proposed the country buy his own carefully curated personal library as a replacement.
When Jefferson first offered to make his books available, the most vexing matter to some critics was the expense. At a price determined by a Georgetown bookseller of $23,950 for 6,487 books (in today’s dollars, an average price of more than $50 each), the library was no bargain. As the debate about the purchase dragged on for months in the press and through a vote in the Senate, however, this concern was eclipsed by another one: the supposedly “atheistical” character of the former president’s book collection.
Far from strictly atheist, Jefferson’s books included texts from a number of religious traditions. He owned a score of Bibles, a Koran, a history of “heathen gods,” and works by Deist philosophers—and that was precisely the problem. Such heterodox titles reflected his opinion that religion should be a personal affair, guided by curiosity and reason.
The vitriol Jefferson’s interests inspired, however, demonstrated how sensitive such a perspective has always been in the United States. In a nation often at odds over the question of how porous the wall of separation between church and state should be, the public dimension of private belief was and remains a reliable source of controversy. Though only dozens of the more than 6,000 books dealt with religion, they were seen as a window into a dangerously pluralistic worldview.
By the time the bill came up for a vote in the House on Jan. 26, 1815, Jefferson’s critics had stirred themselves to a witch hunt. The Federalist representative Cyrus King of Massachusetts argued that the character of the man who assembled the library, and the place where he had acquired much of it—France—was evidence enough that the collection contained “many books of irreligious and immoral tendency.” Attempting to prevent “a general dissemination of this infidel philosophy,” King declared that the books would be better off burned than bought with public funds.
Other members of Congress found this talk of book burning too much to take. Representative James Fisk of Vermont, a Democratic-Republican like Jefferson, reminded his fellow congressmen that King came from a state once known for hanging witches, and wondered pointedly whether that practice might also be reintroduced. Representative Robert Wright of Maryland accused King of wanting to start an Inquisition. To this charge, King replied that he had no such intention—at least not while his party was in the minority.
Even then, party politics ruled the day. With the Democratic-Republicans holding a majority in both houses, King’s Federalists saw the purchase of the library as an abuse of power directly enriching a political rival. As extreme as that position might seem from a distance of centuries, 47 percent of the House agreed with King. In the end, the bill passed, but barely.
President James Madison approved the act of Congress purchasing Jefferson’s library on Jan. 30, 1815, and word reached Monticello in early February. By May of that year, 10 wagons had hauled the books to the national capital, providing a model for the enormously wide-ranging collection the Library of Congress would become. True to Jefferson’s sense that “there is in fact no subject to which a member of Congress may not have occasion to refer,” it today represents a proudly diverse American heritage of knowledge, interest, and belief.
[If you click the link to the article, in title above, a picture is linked to photos of the Jefferson Collection in today's Library of Congress. Note added by Harry]
TWO HUNDRED YEARS on, the dispute over Jefferson’s library provides an unexpected view into the ways religion can transform even noncontroversial subjects into bitter culture wars. Today, we pay lip service to the idea that the personal beliefs of elected representatives should not matter. But the range of contentious contemporary issues informed by faith—from health care to terrorism, same-sex marriage to corporate personhood—suggests that religious diversity may have as many implications for the 114th Congress as it did for the 13th.
Yet the fact that the nearly all-encompassing Library of Congress has roots in a debate about “infidel philosophy” is not merely a reminder that politicized religious conflicts have been with us from the beginning. It also suggests that even elected bodies whose range of belief is narrower than the nation’s as a whole can give rise to institutions that support all of us.
Varied though they were, the religious perspectives found in Jefferson’s library barely scratched the surface of the beliefs at large in the young United States. Already, the country beyond the Capitol was home to many others: small Jewish communities growing in most cities, adherents of Islam and African religions practicing their faith in secret on slave plantations, Native American movements keeping traditional beliefs alive even as the dominant faith was forced upon them.
With no participation in the crafting of laws under which they lived, religious minorities exerted influence in ways difficult to measure except through the growing eclecticism of certain of our historical leaders. Had anyone prepared a report on the religious affiliations of politicians in 1815, the church-going owner of the library full of “infidel philosophy” would have been counted as a Christian himself. But Jefferson was a Christian shaped by the religious differences around him.
Many of today’s lawmakers likewise may be more spiritually diverse than any mere accounting can describe. Among the hundreds of members of Congress sworn into office with their hands on a Bible was a Buddhist—Georgia Representative Hank Johnson—who used the Christian text as a nod to tradition rather than a statement of belief. When the then-mayor of Newark (and now senator) Cory Booker announced his interest in seeking higher office in 2012, this Baptist from New Jersey did so beside a stack of books that would have been right at home at Monticello: a New Testament, a Hebrew Bible, a Koran, and a Bhagavad Gita. And in 2007, the first Muslim member of Congress, Representative Keith Ellison of Minnesota, took his oath of office using Jefferson’s own copy of the “Alcoran of Mohammed,” part of that collection of books trucked from Charlottesville to Washington 192 years before.
Whether it takes the form of the few representatives who hold faiths outside Christianity or Christians with surprisingly broad perspectives, there is reason to believe that there is more variation in our religiously united Congress than there may seem. And, even with the shadow of spiritual strife so often visible in both our present and our past, if religious disagreement is the fate of the nation, that might not be a bad thing.
In matters of faith, Jefferson argued, “uniformity of opinion” was neither desirable nor attainable, for “difference of opinion is advantageous in religion.” In his day and ours, the tension between competing beliefs is not a problem to be solved, but an ongoing negotiation. One day, a greater variety of professed beliefs, among those representing a nation of all faiths and no faith, may more clearly show the advantages of such difference of opinion within government as well.
Peter Manseau is the author, most recently, of “One Nation Under Gods: A New American History.”
Monday, February 9, 2015
New radio promo for Brockton Symphony on SoundCloud
Here is the text of the promo:
The Brockton Symphony Orchestra’s Symphonic Voyage heads north for “Viva Scandinavia” on Sunday, March 1st at 3 PM at the West Middle School.
Maestro James M. Orent, the world class Brockton Symphony Orchestra and dancers from Matta Dance Academy take us to the Land of the Midnight Sun, with 7 composers from Norway, Sweden, Denmark, and Finland, including Grieg’s Peer Gynt, Sibelius’s Finlandia, Alfven’s Swedish Rhapsody and more!
Our Swedish-American concertmaster, Kristina Nilsson, solos on Svendsen’s Romance for violin and Jaernefeld’s Berceuse.
Adult tickets are Twenty dollars, seniors and students fifteen, children 12 and under free when accompanied by an adult. Order at Brockton Symphony.org, or call the Symphony at 508-588-3841. That’s 3 PM, Sunday, March 1st at the West Middle School, 271 West Street in Brockton.
The Brockton Symphony – A Greater Brockton Treasure – Sponsored by Harbor One Bank.
Saturday, February 7, 2015
Unabridged audio: The Anderson Method Forward
Here is the title page and Forward to The Anderson Method. I prepared it for Bill Anderson. After it was done we agreed that I would produce an abridged version for him to post on his web site. I will post that version later, but here is the first version. I used The Anderson to drop 50 pounds after my heart attack a couple of years ago, and endorse it highly.
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