At Least 75 Dead in String of Bombings in Baghdad – New York Times

“…The trial of Mr. Hussein unfolded on television as blast after blast rocked the capital, raining debris across entire blocks and flooding hospital wards with lacerated victims.

After one car bomb exploded at noon in a Shiite district of downtown Baghdad, firefighters and witnesses struggled to pry two blackened bodies from the front seats of a charred sedan. The wailing crowd lifted the bodies out, shouted “God is great!” and marched down the street bearing the corpses aloft.

Nuns from a nearby convent rushed toward the flaming wrecks of cars clutching metal buckets of water.

“I’m going to sell my restaurant because I want to leave Iraq,” said Nour Sabah, 52, as he watched from the sidewalk, standing atop shards of glass. “They just want to destroy the lives of people. They don’t want Iraqi people to live ordinary lives.”

An Interior Ministry official said that at least 4 people had been killed and 16 injured in that bombing. Earlier, a suicide bomber detonated his explosives at a gasoline station in the Shiite neighborhood of New Baghdad, killing at least 23 people and injuring 51. The deadliest attack took place in the evening, when a car bomb exploded by a marketplace in the northern Hurriyah neighborhood, killing at least 25 and wounding at least 43.”


The Nurture Channel
New York duo Growing creates music that embraces the environment

Date: Dec 01, 2004 – 03:43 PM
By Peter Relic
Cleveland Free Times

WISEACRE POETASTER Kenneth Koch once observed that birds don’t sing, they communicate, and that human beings are the only creatures that sing. What Koch suggests is that animals who are often attributed the power of song ‚Äî birds and whales, for example ‚Äî are making such sounds for an expressly utilitarian purpose, while human singing ‚Äî like all art ‚Äî is an indulgent, species-specific endeavor based upon nature’s example. This peculiar relationship is expanded upon in one of the year’s most rewarding albums: Growing’s The Soul of the Rainbow and the Harmony of Light .

Growing is Joe DeNardo and Kevin Doria, two gentlemen in their mid-20s who met at college in Olympia, Washington. Their instrumental debut, The Sky’s Run Into the Sea , appeared in 2003, and its massive, guitar-centric sounds turned on legions of fringe music fans, from the doom metal set to the well-groomed frequenters of the sculpture garden at Los Angeles Museum of Contemporary Art (where Growing played this summer). Without drums or traditionally recognizable melodies, their music nonetheless projects a palpable pulse and a sense of harmony. And as a friend recently pointed out, when you bang your head to music this slow, you’re basically bowing.

‚ÄúThe nature thing comes up a lot,‚Äù says Kevin Doria, answering the line in the group’s live-in bunker in Brooklyn, New York. ‚ÄúI was working at a restaurant, and on my break I’d go out back where I’d hear the hum of the freeway, and the refrigerator vent vibrating, and I liked that enough to where I compositionally copied that, not replicating those sounds but replacing them with sounds on my guitar. That’s a big part of our concept.‚Äù

Of course, concepts mean nothing without execution. Growing’s got the goods. The Soul of the Rainbow and the Harmony of Light contains four long pieces, including the impeccably titled laser-guided ‚ÄúOnement‚Äù and the exponentially expansive ‚ÄúAnaheim II,‚Äù whose heavy drone evokes the inside an MRI cone during a brain scan.

‚ÄúA drone is one of those sounds that can communicate a lot of subtlety,‚Äù Joe DeNardo says. ‚ÄúPare everything down to one note and there’s a lot of harmonic ephemera, and the longer you sustain the sound the more time the listener has to concentrate and pick up on the sound. Many traditional musics have a drone element. It’s always felt really nice and easy and pleasant even to play.‚Äù

The album’s moving fugue is ‚ÄúEpochal Reminiscence.‚Äù In 18 minutes it moves from the static to the ecstatic as a sonic undertow closes around the listener.

‚ÄúThat’s something we originally recorded for a home show,‚Äù DeNardo says. ‚ÄúA home show is where we design each room in the house to have a different sound environment, and people come over; they’re invited to partake and stay overnight.‚Äù

Sounds a bit like what happens at Lakewood’s fabled Recycled Rainbow.

‚ÄúYeah, anyone can do it in their house,‚Äù DeNardo continues. ‚ÄúIt’s a really pleasant way to hang out with friends. That piece was my bedroom’s soundscape, playing on a prerecorded tape, and then there were a couple guitars and amps set up, and people were allowed to pick them up and play along. All the effects were in a box that they couldn’t reach; they just had access to a guitar and a volume pedal.‚Äù

The pedal thing is crucial since, while it sometimes sounds like Growing are using synthesizers, they only play guitars. ‚ÄúThe Big Muff distortion pedal is a favorite, specifically the green ’90s-era model,‚Äù DeNardo says. ‚ÄúAnd I have a Superfuzz. When I first met Joe Preston [of grunge legends the Melvins] I learned how to combine multiple distortion pedals to get specific sounds. That’s kind of a trade secret, though.‚Äù

Further intriguing disclosures are available online at, where Growing reveal a list of stuff that’s turned them on lately, including Village Music of Bulgaria’s album A Harvest, A Shepherd, A Bride , the large-scale horizon-obsessed paintings of mid-century New York painter Barnett Newman and the soundtrack to Werner Herzog’s romantic horror film Nosferatu by pastoral German psychonauts Popol Vuh.

So, how much time do these deep dudes give the human race before extinction?

‚ÄúA couple thousand years,‚Äù DeNardo says, ‚Äúif we can deal with energy in an efficient way. Hopefully our brains will evolve, like a new species will come out of us. It’s awfully sad to think of the damage we’ve done in the past hundred years. But the best thing about the Earth is that it’ll just keep on truckin’.‚Äù

Doria takes the long view: ‚ÄúA couple hundred million years, and even then there’s going to be rogue factions hiding underground who will mutate. But if a giant asteroid hits the earth, I hope it falls on my head and obliterates me right away, instead of having to think of how a giant asteroid hit the earth 15 minutes ago and a wave of energy churning towards me is going to wipe me out.‚Äù

Until then, Growing has its name to live up to. ‚ÄúWe chose it because it seemed all-encompassing,‚Äù DeNardo says. ‚ÄúA lot of people didn’t like it at first because they thought it was a reference to marijuana or boners. Not so. It does seem to describe the process of living and dying without being heavy and ominous. Which is nice.‚Äù¬†

"I've gone there to bring it back here."

Tony Allen, Cargo, London

By Howard Male
Published: 22 February 2006
The Independent

A couple of songs into the show, the legendary Afrobeat drummer Tony Allen mumbled: “I’ve gone there to bring it back here.” Fortunately some of the audience seemed to understand what this Confucius-like pronouncement meant, and a small cheer erupted. But actually it wasn’t 100 per cent accurate: although Allen went back to Nigeria to record his excellent new album Lagos No Shaking with Nigerian musicians, unfortunately only two of the musicians involved in the recording were allowed into the UK to perform at this concert. So expectations weren’t as high as they might have been for the makeshift band put together to try to recreate that unique Lagos alchemy.

However, after a rather low-key start with a trumpet-led instrumental, things started to warm up with the appearance on stage of the first of Allen’s Lagos team who managed to get through customs, Fatai Rolling Dollar. The 76-year-old palm wine singer was full of energy on the slow, tough funk of “Ise Nla”, comfortable and relaxed as he playfully mimed karate chops between vocal lines.

Next on was the second ace up Allen’s sleeve: the young Yoruba singer Yinka Davies. She has the easy grace and mile-wide smile of Diana Ross and managed to get some call-and-responses from the reserved London crowd on the anthemic “Lasun”.

But what of Allen himself? Well, expecting the firing-on-all-cylinders fierceness that drove Fela Kuti’s band between 1964 and 1978 to be repeated would, of course, be ridiculous – legend has it that when Allen left Kuti it took five replacement drummers to kick up a comparable racket. But Allen runs a different kind of outfit these days. Solo projects have leant towards a dubbier, more spacious vibe. And now this latest project – particularly in its live manifestation – is essentially an Afrobeat jazz band: songs effortlessly unwind; soloists get their spots, and Allen simply collapses the groove when he decides he’s had enough.

During the quieter moments his hands barely hold the sticks – sometimes merely tickling the snare or drawing a whisper from the ride cymbal. And then suddenly there’ll be a thunder of toms and we’re back into a chorus. The rest of the musicians relax into each groove, rather than being intent on chasing it, or driving it forward. This approach was reflected in this concert’s head-nodding audience, who seemed blissfully happy.