bluuebunny/crossref_metadata_2025_split huggingface dataset:
Requiem for a Flag-Waver (JVC 1998)
Authors: Giddins Gary 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
As I was saying: Why complain if a jazz festival is no more than a congested confluence of concerts? JVC followed on the heels of Texaco (discussion of jazz is fated forevermore to sound like adspeak) and lay over the city like a shroud. People were still asking me when it would open as it was closing. Critics made the rounds glassy-eyed, somnambulant, shoulders set in permanent shrugs, as if to say don’t ask before anyone could. Buzz? There was no buzz—no I-can’t-wait-to-hear-that or goodidea-for-a-concert or wasn’t-that-amazing. As always, there were moments: I won’t soon forget Al Grey’s “Black and Blue” or Clark Terry reviving his duets with himself, or Joao Gilberto, who isn’t a jazz musician except by association, or... I’ve run out of things I won’t soon forget. Better consult notes. The festival began with six concerts at the Kaye Playhouse, a pleasingly petite theater that fosters specialty programs that would barely make a dent in Carnegie, Avery Fisher, or Symphony Space, unlike the Brazilians and Cubans who accounted for at least five major events in the halls that used to present Duke Ellington, Sarah Vaughan, Miles Davis, Stan Getz—you know, jazz stars. Last year’s Kaye series was an imaginative mixture of mainstream and jazz rep, so they did it again, only without the imagination. The almost exclusive focus on prewar (as in WWII) styles had, inevitably, a valedictory effect, combining memory and desire with the morbid fear that some venerated players might not be around much longer, which is one reason I felt grateful to be there. Still, when a tribute to Fats Waller got underway with Al Grey in a wheelchair and Clark Terry on the arm of an aide, the desire to pay homage was undercut by the assumption that these great men would be working at a fraction of their capacities.
Lester Bowie, 1941–1999
Authors: Giddins Gary 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
When an e-mail informed me of Lester Bowie’s death—at 58, on November 8, of cancer—I was reading Marshall Berman’s All That Is Solid Melts into Air, and suddenly everything he wrote about Goethe and Marx seemed to be about Lester. “Why should modern men, who have seen what man’s activity can bring about, passively accept the structure of their society as it is given?” A pretext for avant-garde jazz if I ever heard one. A subsequent idea, that revolutionary activity undercuts bourgeois rule by expressing energies “the bourgeoisie itself has set free,” is pure Lester: Lester in his long white lab coat, with not one but two Mephistophelean goatees waxed into points, his hair a flattop, his eyes smiling and luminous, his trumpet knifing the air with jerky parabolas of sputtering fragments, like a machine in need of oil. Lester was the most bourgeois of underminers, the wiliest jazz provocateur of his generation. He earned the glint in his eye honestly, along with the six children and 10 grandchildren, the Brooklyn brownstone, the Lexus, and the cigar that accentuated his preternatural calm; when he removed it, he was seriously intelligent, expansive, and funny, but the band whooping in time, which showman Lester interrupted to inquire if we were having a good time. We absolutely were.
Go Tell It on the Mountain (David S. Ware)
Authors: Giddins Gary 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
Let’s be bold: The David S. Ware Quartet is the best small band in jazz today. I realize that I’ll almost certainly hear another quartet, or trio or quintet or octet, this week or next, that will make me want to backpedal. But every time I see Ware’s group or return to the records, it flushes the competition from memory. Besides, hyperbole is so much fun and I do it so rarely, no? Thus, with the first set of last week’s two-night Blue Note gig resounding in my ears, along with a new CD, Corridors & Parallels (Aum Fidelity), I effortlessly banish from consciousness every other bandleader who might inspire a like-minded leap of faith and stoke the experience of listening to Ware and wanting—in that interval at least—to hear nobody else.
Master Class (Jimmy Heath)
Authors: Giddins Gary 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
The October 19 and 20 Jazz at Lincoln Center tribute to Jimmy Heath, commemorating his 75th birthday, was called “He Walked with Giants”—a title typical of that series, and also of its unduly modest guest, whose superlative Riverside LPs were once anthologized as Fast Company and who himself titled a later album Peer Pleasure. Still, the implication that Heath is great by association riles me. I don’t want to overstate his claims—merely allow them to stand on their own. Miles Davis and John Coltrane, born the same year as Heath, are giants in a way that he is not, though they both benefited from his skills as bandleader, composer, and player. Heath’s achievement is of a different kind. He is primarily a craftsman, one of the most distinctive of his generation. If he remains undervalued even in his autumnal years, when he is routinely accorded living-legend status, it is because craftsmanship has limited charisma, especially when married to understatement, his stock in trade.
Gypsy State of Mind (Bireli Lagrene)
Authors: Giddins Gary 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
Bireli Lagrene, whose electrifying new album, Gypsy Project (Dreyfus Jazz), represents his best work in several years, must have days when he feels like Michael Corleone: Every time he gets away from the Django Nostra, they drag him back in. I’m not sure who “they” is, except for admirers like me, who—though startled by the intensive authenticity of his homage to Sinatra (Blue Eyes, 1998), his reclamation of unlikely standards such as “C’est Si Bon” (Standards, 1992), and the ostentatious bebopping excesses of what is perhaps his best previous album, Live in Marciac (1994)—long to hear him mine his Sinti roots, especially since no one else can do the Django thing with his fortitude or aplomb. To be sure, he has always revisited parts of Reinhardt’s repertory: “Nuages,” “Body and Soul,” “I Got Rhythm” and its ubiquitous changes. But summoning Reinhardt means more than replicating a guitar style or a set of tunes or a special instrumentation (guitar, violin, bass, rhythm guitars). It means a state of mind.
Catching Up
Authors: Rarick Ethan 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
Margret Reed fretted. It had been a week of hard travel since they left Independence, but at last they had caught the main body of Californiabound emigrants, a sprawling company led by a slightly pompous Kentucky lawyer named William Henry Russell. The extent of Russell’s domain—nearly fifty wagons and 150 adults—offered a safety-innumbers bulk that appealed to the Reeds and the Donners. But camp gossips spread the word that past applicants to the party had sometimes been rejected, and Margret feared that she and her family would also be turned aside.
One Bad Hill
Authors: Rarick Ethan 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
Most of the wagons had already climbed the long, sandy hummock. John Snyder, the teamster for the Graves family, was toward the back of the line when he began urging his charges up the slope. It was rough terrain—emigrants recalled it as a ‘‘very bad ridge’’ or ‘‘one bad hill’’— and most men stopped to double-hitch, combining five or six pairs of oxen to haul just one wagon, like a truck driver dropping into a lower gear.
A Great Snowy Range
Authors: Rarick Ethan 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
By the time westward emigrants reached the Sierra Nevada, they had completed all but a hundred miles of a two-thousand-mile journey. Yet that final, brief stretch constituted a singular and frightening obstacle as testing as any they had yet endured. Lying almost entirely within the modern state of California, the Sierra Nevada is the largest single mountain range in the contiguous United States. (The Rockies and Appalachians, although covering a greater area, are collections of geologically distinct chains.) Slathered across an area almost as large as the Alps are more than five hundred peaks that exceed 12,000 feet in elevation, including Mt. Whitney, at 14,494 feet the highest point in the country, save Alaska. Such pinnacles are the topmost portion of a vast and mostly subsurface mass of granite, actually consisting of hundreds of individual pieces but known collectively to geologists as the Sierra Nevada batholith. Millions of years ago, this underground behemoth thrust upward through the earth’s surface, eventually transforming what had been a range of low hills into the majestic spires visible today.
From California, or Heaven?
Authors: Rarick Ethan 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
The trapped emigrants had kept a yearning vigil westward, peering off toward the mountains and squinting their eyes against the blinding white glare of sun and snow. In his diary, Patrick Breen anticipated the arrival of help. ‘‘Expecting some account from Suiters Soon,’’ he jotted down at one point. And then a few days later: ‘‘Expecting some person across the Mountain this week.’’ At Alder Creek, Jean Baptiste Trudeau took a more direct approach. The young Donner family worker once climbed to the top of a tall pine tree near camp—an impressive and exhausting feat given his condition—so that he might catch sight of any arriving rescue party.
Weeping
Authors: Rarick Ethan 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
George Donner looked away and wept. His three youngest children, the three little girls who remained in the bedraggled tent at Alder Creek with their parents, had been so pitifully hungry, their sunken faces so heartbreaking. Yet George and Tamzene had been unable to satisfy their daughters’ pleading. No more rescuers had come to help. No hunter had provided meat.
Sound and Silence: Changing Concepts of the Sublime
Authors: Novak Barbara 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
In the literature of landscape painting, the world “sublime” has played a suitably “exalted” role. Its venerable history has been documented in such studies as Samuel H. Monk’s The Sublime, and the characteristics it acquired in the late eighteenth century have until now generally stood for its interpretation. In the nineteenth century, however, the word, already loaded with meaning, took on additional baggage. By mid-century, we can speak of several interpretations of the sublime, so that the original concept, which more or less maintained its traditional meaning, existed side by side with its offspring. These later sublimes not only subtly alter the original meaning of the word, but affect our understanding of landscape attitudes in mid-nineteenth century America.
The late-eighteenth-century sublime, interpreted largely in terms of Burke’s definition, was associated with fear, gloom, and majesty. Majesty had to do with scale and size, exemplified particularly by mountain scenery. The sublime was primarily an esthetic, and to experience it was to have an esthetic reaction. This reaction provoked intimations of infinity and thus of Deity and the divine. It was an overwhelming divinity, dwarfing the observer who, though he aspired to transcendence, rarely forgot his own insignificance.
The Meteorological Vision: Clouds
Authors: Novak Barbara 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
Sky in American art has a clearly identifiable iconography. The painters of a culture deeply imbued with transcendental feeling found in it the purity of renewal, the colors of hope and desire, heavenly reflections of earthly nostalgias. They also cast upward to the sky the shrewd empirical glance that constantly corrected their powerful system of ideal beliefs. The sky is a finely tuned paradigm of the alliance between art and science. In that mutable void, the landscape artist’s concerns—poetic, ideal and symbolic, empirical and scientific—were sharpened rather than blurred. As the source of light, spiritual as well as secular, the sky relieved absolutism with infinite moods, unchanging ideals with endless process. No wonder the artists fixed their particular attention on those moist cargoes that described the void in brief but repeated compositions: clouds.
The Organic Foreground: Plants
Authors: Novak Barbara 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
In Henry Inman’s Mumble the Peg (fig. 6.1), a simple, even banal genre scene, two children are playing a game. Dominating the foreground is a small, isolated plant. We look at it with some puzzlement. Does its prominence signal some message we are missing, some allegory of growth perhaps—or a plant symbol we cannot recognize? We are aware that an elaborate system waits to echo the plant’s promptings.
When H. T. Tuckerman responded to Mumble the Peg, he ignored the plant but concentrated on the “vegetable” life of the two boys: “The freshness of their looks, like the verdure on which they are stretched, is as the smile of the best spring that preceded the manhood ‘of our discontent’— gleaming through the long vista of years.” Elsewhere, in an essay on flowers, Tuckerman found in them “the objectless, spontaneous luxury of existence that belongs to childhood. They typify most eloquently the benign intent of the universe; and by gratifying, through the senses, the instinct of beauty, vindicate the poetry of life with a divine sanction.” Children and flowers were part of an organic cosmology, a sentimental universe that both illustrated and masked the cultural significance of plants.
Parsifal
Authors: Millington Barry 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
The first performances were given at Bayreuth on 26 and 28 July 1882 for members of the Society of Patrons, followed by 14 further performances in July and August. In an agreement with his patron, King Ludwig II, designed to pay off the deficit incurred by the first Bayreuth festival, Wagner was obliged to employ the Munich Hoftheater personnel to perform the work, which meant that he had to accept the Jewish Hermann Levi to conduct it. Wagner’s intention of consecrating the Festspielhaus with Parsifal is indicated by the term Bühnenweihfestspiel, which may be translated ‘festival play for the consecration of a stage’. In spite of the thirty-year embargo placed on performances outside Bayreuth, Parsifal was occasionally given elsewhere in those years: Ludwig II had it put on privately in Munich in the years after Wagner’s death; it was seen by members of the Wagner Society in Amsterdam in 1905, and again in 1906 and 1908; and in the face of bitter hostility from Bayreuth it was mounted by the Metropolitan in 1903 under Alfred Hertz.
When Will This Cruel War Be Over?
Authors: Weber Jennifer L 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
New disasters arrived with the change of seasons, making the winter of 1862–63 the bleakest period of the war yet. Military setbacks coupled with opposition to the Emancipation Proclamation stirred new levels of discontent in the Union. Rumors that the Northwest was preparing to break away from the East were broadly reported and widely believed. Enlistments dried up, prompting the Congress to adopt a new draft law, which in turn generated even more dissent. Copperheads, it became clear, were unwilling to grant Lincoln any unusual powers with which to fight the war. Conservative Democrats could not see, much less acknowledge, the danger that secession and the Confederacy posed to the Union. Furious at the lack of support from Peace Democrats, soldiers swore to avenge themselves when they returned home. Amid this turmoil the administration suffered a serious political wound when a rogue general arrested a former congressman for speaking against the government. Although men who loudly opposed the administration had been subject to detention for nearly two years, this was a new low. The arrest raised concerns even among Republicans about the government’s ability to wield power responsibly. And as that drama played out, the Army of the Potomac suffered another crushing defeat. The Army of the Potomac appeared to enter a new era on November 7, when General Ambrose E. Burnside took command. He wasted little time before acting. On November 15 Burnside moved his men forty miles from Warrenton, Virginia, to Falmouth. Fredericksburg lay just across the Rappahannock River, ripe and inviting. To attack, though, the Yankees would first have to figure out a way to cross the river. The plan was to build pontoon bridges, but foul-ups with the order for pontoons put Burnside behind schedule in attacking the city.
Atndanga “Life In An African Forest”
Authors: Kisliuk Michelle 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
In early February 1988, recovered from the malaria, I was hiking with Justin on the Bombolongo trail, one of several paths leading south into the forest from clan-based neighborhoods in Bagandou.1 We were on our way to a BaAka camp called Ndanga. The shortest path to Ndanga is the Bodikala path, but instead we took the Bombolongo path this time because Justin was more familiar with it-his family’s pygmies live along this path-and because it passes through several BaAka settlements he thought I should see. Of all the BaAka that Justin knew, he judged those of Ndanga to be the most proficient in music and dance. He also recalled that they still sometimes hunt elephant on long excursions. I had gathered from Turnbull’s observations in The Forest People and from liner notes on recordings of pygmy music that elephant hunting is an important aspect of BaAka culture, or had been in the past.
Seeking The Mother Of Elamba
Authors: Kisliuk Michelle 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
There were two ways to get to Mopoutou. One was via a long forest trail that crosses some insect-ridden rivers in the wilderness. The other way was by boat, first down the Oubangui, then up the narrow, winding river Ibenga. At first I considered waiting until Sandimba’s contingent was ready to make the pilgrimage to “take” Elamba, going the forest route with them. But I felt I had to make this next move soon, and Sandimba had said they would be waiting until the dry season because travel would be easier then, and they would have time to amass enough goods for proper payment for the initiation (by the time I left the country in June 1989, Sandimba had still not made the journey to Mopoutou). It was now late August 1988, the beginning of the heaviest rains, and Justin advised against going through the forest; the rivers we would have to cross would be swollen and dangerous, plus he was unfamiliar with the trails we would have to follow. So we opted to go by boat.1 We would set out at Mongoumba, at the conflation of the Lobaye and the Oubangui rivers. At the farm we loaded the moped with two backpacks, and along the way we stocked up on all the provisions we could haul. Amazingly, our Peugeot moped got us and our load safely down to Mongoumba, despite several hours of rough riding on a ragged dirt road.
American Painting of the Nineteenth Century
Authors: Novak Barbara 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
In this distinguished work, which Hilton Kramer in The New York Times Book Review called “surely the best book ever written on the subject,” Barbara Novak illuminates what is essentially American about American art. She highlights not only those aspects that appear indigenously in our art works, but also those features that consistently reappear over time. Novak examines the paintings of Washington Allston, Thomas Cole, Asher B. Durand, Fitz H. Lane, William Sidney Mount, Winslow Homer, Thomas Eakins, and Albert Pinkham Ryder. She draws provocative and original conclusions about the role in American art of spiritualism and mathematics, conceptualism and the object, and Transcendentalism and the fact. She analyzes not only the paintings but nineteenth-century aesthetics as well, achieving a unique synthesis of art and literature. Now available with a new preface and an updated bibliography, this lavishly illustrated volume—featuring more than one hundred black-and-white illustrations and sixteen full-color plates—remains one of the seminal works in American art history.
Prolegomena to the Nineteenth Century: Copley And The American Tradition
Authors: Novak Barbara 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
The roots of an enduring American vision were first put down with the mature paintings of John Singleton Copley (1738–1815), from about 1765 to 1774. In Copley’s art of this period, the unique relation of object to idea that characterizes so much American realism from colonial times to the present assumes forceful and explicit form.
Thomas Cole: The Dilemma Of The Real And The Ideal
Authors: Novak Barbara 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
If, for Allston, the color of “Titian, Tintoret and Paul Veronese . . . took away all sense of subject,” this was not possible for Thomas Cole (1801–48), who maintained that “the language of art should have the subserviency of a vehicle. It is not art itself. Chiaroscuro, colour, form, should always be subservient to the subject, and never be raised to the dignity of an end.” With Cole, even more than Allston, idea and story took precedence over form, and one might say that more than Allston, Cole, a generation later, took Sir Joshua’s dicta to heart. Cole was capable finally of transferring the heroic aims of the history painters to the landscape category, where at last they could take firm root in American soil. Thus, in the largest sense, he was a transitional figure. This early nineteenth-century emphasis on Nature and landscape was hardly unique to America, having found expression abroad in Rousseau’s concepts of natural primitivism, Schelling’s Naturphilosophie, and Words-worth’s “God in Nature,” as well as in Emerson’s Nature. But with the new respect for “unspoiled nature” on both sides of the Atlantic, an American landscape school was not long in developing. Nationalist pride was considerably bolstered by the realization that America more clearly fitted Rousseau’s concept of a primeval paradise than any of the European countries with which, it was uneasily believed, America could not yet compete artistically. If we had no cultural traditions, we had at least our ancient trees.
Sources and Bibliography
Authors: Suskin Steven 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
With the subject of Broadway orchestration being a relatively unmined field, most of the quotations and anecdotes in this book come from personal interviews or unpublished material sitting in dusty archives. It was not my desire to pepper this book with footnote after footnote after footnote, which can quickly become tiring to the reader Even so, I think it might prove useful to provide a generalized guide to the sources.
Overture
Authors: Steven Suskin 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
Overture comes from the French word ouverture, which means opening. The overture dates more or less to the seventeenth century, when it was originally used in opera. Such openings were also used for plays; some of these early theatre overtures, in fact, have led far more far popular lives than the plays themselves (like Beethoven’s “Egmont” and “Coriolan”). Over time, composers came to use the term to describe independent concert works similar to but on a smaller scale than symphonies (including Mendelssohn’s “Hebrides” and Tchaikovsky’s “1812”). The medley-type overture came into fashion in the nineteenth century; a look at the works of Gilbert & Sullivan shows the theatrical song-medley overture in full swing.
Then Comes the Orchestrator
Authors: Steven Suskin 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
The instrumentation is set by the orchestrator, right? Well, no. The composer often exerts influence in this area, and not without reason. So does the musical director, who will be entrusted with the nightly task of getting the score to sound like the composer and orchestrator intend. The musical contractor—something like the casting director and paymaster for the musicians—can weigh in with demands of his or her own. And then, there’s the producer.