We get a lot of mail at NPR Music, and alongside the package of Omaha Steaks that sat on our front porch for the duration of a three-week vacation is a slew of smart questions about how music fits into our lives — and, this week, how to incorporate music into romantic gestures.
The overwhelming and endless stream of electronic alerts and messages on our computers, phones and tablets is driving demand for a new kind of summer camp for adults. "Technology-free" camps that force their campers to surrender their gadgets, wallets and that nagging "fear of missing out" — FOMO — are booking up fast.
The other day my 14-year-old asked me whether I would re-live my teen years for $1 million. The answer was a resounding "No!" Memories of searing humiliation still lurk in my (scarred) subconscious. The senior prom alone could keep me chatting with a psychiatrist for months. (Even though, from what I've heard, my date is happily out of the closet and a very successful interior decorator. All's well that ends well, right?) At this point, those memories should be a funny, rosy glow far in the distance. Ha.
His projects include a funk band and an Afrobeat tribute to Michael Jackson, but Portland's Ben Darwish is also one of the city's most in-demand jazz pianists. For The Clear Blue Pearl, Darwish began composing during a month-long residence at Caldera in the high desert town of Sisters, Ore. The work began with a single song written there, and later expanded into 10 songs. It tells the story of family members who are in danger of losing their farm to drought, and who head off in search of a mythical underground aquifer — the "Clear Blue Pearl."
Back in 1922, the Maharaja of Patiala commissioned a new dining set ahead of a visit to India by the Prince of Wales. That silver-gilt set — 1,400 pieces — has sold at auction for $3 million. The prince later became King Edward VIII.