I’ve spent much of today working over a tape that’s labeled ‘(Best of) Los Blues Guys at ArmadilloCon 10/11/91’. I think Brad or Scott prepared it, but I’m not sure. It’s one of the cleanest tapes in my inventory. I only had to do some noise reduction for tape hiss, pull out some low-freq rumble, slice off a little top end, add a tiny splash of reverb for ambience, do a low-level double, and then punch it hard in the head for loudness — hopefully without destroying too many transients.

There’s a lot of Unca Scott goodness coming your way in the next week, but tonight I’m posting a sublime rendering of Bob Dylan’s:

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Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door

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I don’t remember who was playing that night. It’s definitely me hogging much of the solo guitar work, but we had a guest on this song who spun out some monster tasty licks. Maybe Patrick Nielsen Hayden? Will Shetterly? EDIT: Will says he wasn’t playing on it. It was definitely Patrick.

Brad was on drums and lead vocal, of course. Unca Stevie on harmonica and keyboards. Unca Scott on rhythm guitar. Casey Hamilton on bass. Based on evidence from other songs, I think Emma Bull was doing the backup vocals. EDIT: And also backup vocals from Patrick. Yay! Backups are sounding really sweet on this one.

We always play this one as the closer for the night, and for most of our private jams. For me, at least, it’s in memory of Geary Rachel. My daughter couldn’t pronounce his name right when she was a toddler, so he became everybody’s Uncle Gilo.

Gilo was ridiculously intelligent, went from being a symphonic horn player to a nationally-known database programmer when his diabetic retinopathy made him unable to read orchestral music. He could be insanely bull-headed, and he too often assumed that the people around him were as smart as he was, leading to much frustration on both sides.

He was the bravest person I’ve ever known, and likely the most vibrantly alive. He knew that he’d never be old, so he grabbed every day he had.

He was married to my sister for awhile, and it’s no exaggeration to say that he saved my life and sanity several times when I was in the worst depths of my divorce.

He was my brother, and I loved him, and still miss him terribly.

Here’s a song for you, Uncle Gilo.

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Pic credit to Unca Stevie Hillary Segl.

In Friday’s Wall Street Journal, there was an article titled: What Makes Finnish Kids So Smart?

In the course of the article, it was revealed that, in Finland, there’s no mandatory testing for kids, little rote learning, and that, for the most part, the Finns prefer to let their teenagers be teenagers.

But buried in the middle of the article was an obvious reason the Finns are creating such bright kids: They actually believe in being smart.

For instance, the Finns are big readers.  They even have libraries attached to their shopping malls.  I’m pretty sure if there was a library attached to Barton Creek Mall here in Austin, the hoi polloi would beat a path through it to Starbucks and The GAP.

And even though the pay for teachers in Finland is roughly the same as what it is in the U.S., it’s a prestigious job there. Applicants for teaching positions in Finland must hold a master’s degree.  There are usually more than 40 applicants for every opening.  But here was another secret: Teachers have more freedom in the way they teach than American educators do.

The other interesting facet is that Finnish teenagers are better at deductive reasoning than their counterparts in other counties.

We don’t do smart here in the grand old U.S. of A.  In fact, we’re a country that despises smart people.  The smarter you are, the more you’re distrusted.  There’s been an anti-intellectual bent to our makeup since the early 1800s.

Our presidential picks are the most pronounced manifestation of this part of the American psyche.  Eisenhower over Stevenson.  Bush over Gore.  (Does anyone remember the sturm und drang over Gore’s “eye rolling” during debates with Dubya?  Yes, being dumbfounded by dumbness is a crime in this country.)

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