James McMurtrey

Last night, James McMurtrey was in town. I hadn't seen him since the 90's and whenever I hear his stuff on the radio, I take notice. With a flat, deadpan delivery reminiscent of Lou Reed, McMurtrey grabs your attention with his highly literate, powerfully descriptive lyrics. Who else does that?

Sure, there are plenty of great lyricists, starting with Bob Dylan, of course. My short list would include John Hiatt, Paul Simon, Jackson Browne on a good day and for me, the newest member of this elite club is John Mayer who seems to have it all. But none of them can touch McMurtrey's unique take on life in America today.

James McMurtrey is the consummate American storyteller, a modern day Mark Twain. Part poetry, part satire, all heart. If he wrote regular weekly columns, I would read every word. But he doesn't, and perhaps that's good because it forces him to distill 100% of his creative genius into the lyrics of comparatively few songs.

When I saw McMurtrey in the 90's, he was just getting started. He played serviceable guitar, plenty adequate to support his tunes. Last night, he was a guitar powerhouse. At times, he sounded like Neil Young AND Crazyhorse. Accompanied by a bassist and a drummer, the threesome generated a quality of rock you seldom find with so few players. This was the Austin sound at its finest.

Makes me want to spend a lot more time there. Every Wednesday night, when he's not on tour, McMurtrey plays The Continental Club in Austin. Seeing him at The Continental would be enough to justify the trip. If James comes to your hometown or someplace nearby, do not miss the chance to see him. And if you aren't familiar with his stuff, check him out.

Cigars and Mojitos: It's Cuba Time

For Cuba, change is arriving. The blockade is still in place, at least for now, but thanks to President Obama, US relations with Cuba are finally starting to thaw. Upon hearing news of the announcement, it took Raul Castro about 90 minutes to call Obama to express his gratitude and to suggest that they talk.

It's about time. Cuba stopped being a threat to the US decades ago. A succession of US presidents from both parties insisted on preserving the outdated status quo. Although the embargo lives in, it is clearly living on borrowed time.

What does this mean for America? Not much. We'll soon have legal access to Cuban cigars, something which means very little to me. And chances are that the rosters of major league baseball teams will start to include more Cuban players.

Mostly, this is huge news in Cuba. Once the embargo is lifted, Cuba's economic opportunities will rise. This is good and necessary for the long-suffering Cuban people. Their initial enthusiasm over Castro and the Revolution steadily eroded as they realized that the promises of Communism were mostly empty.

As noted in an earlier blog, Cubans have perhaps the most musical culture on the planet. Their rhythms and energy exude joy and a sense of community not found elsewhere. They move, dance and sing with a unique feeling. As more folks get exposure to Cuban music, and for that matter, other Cuban art forms, the world will appreciate what Cuba has to offer.

And isn't it interesting that Barack Obama is on good speaking terms with Hugo Chavez? Spring is here and I can't help but enjoy that fresh scent in the air, one I always associate with the promise of bright, new beginnings.

Maria and Me

We weren't close, that's for sure. Maria Mutola was the greatest female 800 meter runner of all time. When she moved from Mozambique to Eugene, Oregon (ok, it was Springfield, to be precise) at the age of 16, she was already famous in certain quarters. The reason for her teenage fame? Running. She went to the 1988 Olympics in the 800m run at the age of 15 representing Mozambique.

It was common enough in gymnastics for girls of that age to make the Olympics, but not in track and field. Even though her performance in the Seoul Olympics was remarkable only for her age, she was destined for greatness and everybody knew it.

A strange quirk of fate caused her to move to Eugene in 1990 where she attended Springfield High School whose track coach, Margo Jennings, was a friend. Soon Margo made the wise choice to have Maria work out with older, male runners with experience on the international circuit. Maria's talents were too much for her high school teammates. Margo turned to my running partner, Ed Spinney, a sub-four minute miler who had competed in Europe before becoming an attorney in Eugene. Ed worked in my office for almost a decade and I had the chance to run with Ed Spinney on a few thousand occasions. Although as a runner I was more enthusiastic than talented, in the process of running with Ed, I became a lot tougher and faster, but never nearly as fast as Ed.

This happenstance permitted me to meet Maria and train with her on occasion. There's something about running together for miles that breaks down barriers, and over time, I got to know her in spite of her shyness. I had no chance to keep up with her in shorter distances, but on longer training runs, I held my own.

In the years that followed, she won Olympic medals, including the gold medal in the 2000 Sydney Olympics. She won many world championships. She was the top-ranked 800 meter runner in the world for the better part of her 16 year career, and when she finally decided to retire from competitive running last summer, her accomplishments were so far beyond those of every other 800 meter runner in history that no rationale person could debate the issue.

Several times in the height of her career I had the chance to enjoy casual evenings with her and a few others over dinner at the home of her sometime trainer, Jack Scott. Although at that point, she was financially secure and internationally famous in track, her sense of self had not become inflated.

Maria's physique set her apart from others, with shoulders remarkably broad and rippling with muscle. Running foes tried to diminish her accomplishments by hinting at steroid use, pointing to her musculature as proof. They hadn't seen what I had---she was built that way at age 16, long before she would have had access to performance enhancing drugs.

The longevity of her career and the steadiness of her performances on the track were unparalleled. She ran every race as though arriving at the finish line first was her purpose for living. Such competitiveness, such passion for victory, is rare because the price one must pay in terms of physical suffering is considerable. Most people cannot will themselves to go there ever, and those who manage to summon the ultimate effort on occasion cannot achieve such effort with the consistency, the single-mindedness of purpose, that became Maria's trademark.

In high school, attempts to prevent her from competing at the high school level were made, successfully, and the memory of this and other scornful acts directed at this gifted child from Africa sickens me still. No doubt, such early encounters with people who tried to marginalize her helps to account for both her shyness and her tenacity.

I don't know what retirement holds for Maria, but I suspect she will give as much back to the people of Mozambique as possible. She is a hero there, Mozambique's only international sporting celebrity, and Maria is not one to ignore her roots, which explains why she moved from her comfortable existence in my community back to Africa. I consider myself quite fortunate to have met someone as remarkable as Maria Mutola. Thank you, Maria, for the memories of watching you in competition, and for the opportunity to know the equally splendid person behind the championship performances.