Ikea

In a blurb in the latest issue of The Atlantic, Ellen Ruppel Shell exhorts us to demonstrate responsibility in the face of economic difficulties by resisting the disposable nature of many of today's products and instead buying lasting quality. Her whipping post is Ikea -- the world's largest furniture retailer -- whom she takes to task for selling essentially disposable, low-quality crap under a thin veneer (pun fully intended) of striking design, while engaging in environmentally and ethically questionable business practices and being otherwise ungreen, all in the name of meeting a low price point. Well, having moved recently, and never really having owned any decent, or even coordinated, furniture, J. and I have been shopping at Ikea, and I can report that while relative to other stores, Ikea's prices are indeed somewhat lower, they are by no means cheap. Which brings up a side question -- why is furniture so expensive, anyway? Even $500 for a sofa seems excessive to me, and that's the low end, in the grand scheme of things. I mean, some wooden planks and polyester stuffing with some fabric stretched over it all? How difficult can it be?

But let's grant Ms. Shell her premise that Ikea is cheap. I've seen some gorgeous, heirloom-quality, artisan-built furniture. I have also seen its prices. Is that what we're supposed to buy during a recession? Well, both J. and I still have our jobs, have not had to take any pay cuts yet, and we live in a part of the country that seems to be weathering the recession better than some others. And even at Ikea, we have to be very careful not to overextend ourselves, buying one large item every month, if that. And The Atlantic wants us to spend five times the money in this economy? Thank you, Mr. Bennet, for demonstrating yet again how utterly disconnected the lifestyle coverage of your magazine is from the everyday reality of your readers' lives. There are far more egregious examples of the abiding cluelessness of the self-appointed cultural elite in the same issue, too.

But all that made me think of something else. Could we not say that the disposable nature of most of our personal belongings, especially furniture, however unsatisfying it may be to own, in fact contributes to the dynamism of the American economy? From an economic standpoint, we want our workforce to be as mobile as possible, right? The easier it is for people to get to where the work is, the more quickly the work will be done, increasing productivity. Americans move seven times in their lives on average, and we want to make all that moving as painless as possible. This is especially critical in a recession, when you should be far more willing to go where there is work than normally. So go ahead and leave all that low-quality, cheap furniture behind and go forth unencumbered. When you arrive, there's probably an Ikea there.

Leo Kottke at the Birchmere, 6/12/2009

Life is slowly returning to normal. Went to hear Leo Kottke at the Birchmere on Friday night. Kottke is a legendary name in acoustic guitar circles, but even though back in my guitar-playing days I've heard him mentioned and read about him countless times, somehow I've managed to avoid hearing any of his actual music for the most part. I came across an LP some years ago, and played it once or twice, but it has been so long now that I can't even remember the record's title, much less any of the tunes on it. When the show was announced several months ago, I figured better late than never and got tickets, with plans to check out the highlights of his discography and prepare myself for the concert in the interim. Well, we all know what's paved with good intentions. I have not had an opportunity even to plug in my stereo, much less listen to anything, between then and now, so I went into the show with very few, if any, expectations. In retrospect, this was refreshing and helped me listen with as open a mind, and ear, as possible. I've said this before, but this is how music was consumed through most of human history -- if you wanted to hear something, you had to go hear it performed. Recording changed the way we consume music, and the meaning music has in our emotional lives, in a fundamental way. But I digress.

The show was good. Not incredibly, earth-shatteringly, life-changingly good, but enjoyable. Kottke's playing was jangly and bluegrassy. There wasn't much musical depth, but he made up for it with rhythmic drive and a technique that was impressive but not flashy. He flubbed a note or two early on, but otherwise was spot-on. His basslines were particularly amazing. He often sounded as if he had two or three thumbs, each with a life of its own, playing intricate basslines on the lower strings, while the rest of his hand merrily picked out a melody or some improvised runs in the high register without breaking a sweat. The whole thing was definitely more about guitar than music in the abstract sense, but one did not need to be a guitarist to enjoy it.

Kottke's twelve-string playing is worth a special mention. Back in my guitar days, ill-advised to begin with, I've picked up a twelve-string once or twice just to try it. Thank goodness I had the sense never to let anyone hear me play it. The things are absolute beasts to handle. You need both twice the physical strength in your fretting hand to hold down the extra metal, and twice the dexterity in both hands to fret and pick cleanly. Pretty much a non-starter in my book. But Kottke tossed off tune after tune on a twelve-string, and he sounded great. Same intricate basslines, same bouncy picking, just more of it. What he played did not change at all, which is more than I can say with respect to just about any other guitar player I've heard, and I've listened to plenty of guitar music over the years.

The tunes were mostly instrumental, though he did sing two or three in a casual, unforced baritone. There was also much banter and joking, which I understand has always been an important component of his shows. Some jokes were actually pretty funny, though they definitely tended in the guitar and music geek direction. The audience response both to his playing and his talking was surprisingly enthusiastic -- the outbursts of applause were an almost shocking contrast to the generally quiet and casual nature of the performance. Clearly, he has some long-time rabid fans.

I haven't been to the Birchmere in ages, but was reminded how great of a venue it is for these types of concerts. Even the food was surprisingly enjoyable. Good time was had by all, and at relatively recession-friendly prices, I should point out. I will make a point of not waiting so long before my next show there.

Crystal Ride

I rode in the Air Force Crystal Ride last Sunday, a 50km amateur bike race around Arlington. It was my first organised cycling event. The ride actually offered three options – 25, 50 or 100km. My friend C.S., who roped me into participating in the first place, and I chose the medium option.

The route was a series of laps, four in our case, that started on Crystal Drive in Crystal City (right behind my office, as it happened), headed North through the no man's land of Old Jeff Davis Highway (Arlingtonians know what I'm talking about), past the Pentagon and up to the Air Force memorial on Columbia Pike. The course was flat with the notable exception of the long climb up to the Memorial from the Pentagon parking lot.

The morning started out with pouring rain, and it was still coming down pretty hard when I parked my car a mile or so away from the starting line about 6:30 a.m., and C.S. texted me that he wasn't going to ride in this weather, but would show up just in case it improved. It did improve, as it happened, and by a few minutes before the 7:30 a.m. starting time, the rain had stopped and the clouds were beginning to part. It would prove to be a gorgeous morning for a bike ride.

The ride was, all in all, uneventful. I pushed pretty hard on the first two laps, with C.S., who is a far more experienced rider and a veteran of several centuries, both metric and imperial, loafing alongside. Scrambling up the final hill was no problem on the first lap, though considerably more challenging on the second. By the third, though I was still going pretty strong on the flat sections, I had to give up all pretense of being able to keep up, shifted the bike down to the lowest possible gear of my wimp-approved triple crank, and crawled up the hill, passed in the process by several of the spandex-clad poseurs that I was able to fend off until then. By then, C.S. lost me completely and I finished out the last lap and a half in solitude. Final time: 2:09:45, for an average speed of a hair over 14 mph. Now my right knee hurts, though given the lack of any riding practice this winter, and the generally ill-fitting nature of my bike, the rest of me is surprisingly intact.