From an October 2016 Facebook post
Flying Cape Air is, against its mainstream adversaries or, shudder, the bus, a rare treat. A treat, though, for refined tastes. Single-malt, small-batch, all that nonsense. In an era when even a modern jetliner can seem outdated, a piston-powered plane with only one pilot and where your weight dictates your seat is positively Rococo. A Brough-Superior versus a Kawasaki. Rudolph Valentino versus James Franco.
Continue reading “A treatise from within the clouds: Aboard Cape Air”
Folks get the wrong idea about me. Because my online dating profiles usually contained the 1968 Kinks lyric “I’m the last of the good old-fashioned steam-powered trains,” and I tend to surround myself with machinery old enough to collect Social Security, and I pronounce “#” as “pound,” I must be a certifiable codger, a stone-assed Conservative, bemoaning the curse of being born in le wrong generation, who would tell children to vacate his tract of grass-covered land if children had any desire to trespass upon a yard full of squirrel-nibbled oranges and stray cats.
Continue reading “Make America Super Again”
There’s little hope once I get something in my head. In late 2018, I got it in there that I needed an upgrade to my live Leslie situation. For us foolhardy organists still trotting out the big iron on a Wednesday night dues-payer, it’s a tale as old as 4/4 time. My existing 147 was a good cabinet, but was getting lost in the mix onstage. It was also my only Leslie at the time. I wanted a dedicated “road” cabinet, designed specifically for such. The off-the-shelf options were cost prohibitive, and lackluster–to me–in their specifications. While many of my more well-heeled compatriots would rather log on to Sweetwater and take Todd Rundgren’s 1972 advice to “just throw money,” being of simple means (read: po’) forces one to get creative; so does being exceptionally demanding of one’s gear. So does the desire simply to experiment. The only solution was to build what I needed. It would be as loud and clean as practically possible, giving more than enough headroom for any situation. And it would hook up just like a regular 147. Thus, the Gonzo Leslie was born. It thumbs its witchy nose at purists and the status quo. This is what it’s all about.
Continue reading “The Gonzo Leslie: A modern discourse in subtle savagery”