Tour tales no. 3: The groups all live together

From time to time people approach me with the following question: "Dude, what the hell possessed you to want to start a big-band (of sorts)? I mean, why a big band? Isn't it hard enough just trying to play something that resembles jazz in this day and age? Why not make your life at least marginally easier, and go for a quintet? A quartet? Hell, you play piano: why not a power trio? So, you know: what the fuck?!"

I'm paraphrasing, of course.

You may already be imagining my answer to this question. Perhaps you can see me leaning back in my chair, putting on my "serious face," stroking my goatee thoughtfully, and intoning these words: "The big band is the one and only vehicle for my peculiar artistic vision. It is the only means by which I can say what I want to say. In short, I have no choice."

As Borat would say: not! Even if I had the chutzpah to hold forth as such with a straight face, the real answer would be that there is nothing about what I do (or what I want to do) that has convinced me that I was destined to write for a big band. It was all, as I've suggested before, an accident. A happy accident, to be sure, but an accident all the same. And while I've discovered that this configuration of musicians can make some pretty unique and cool sounds, and while I am long since officially addicted, I'm simultaneously suspicious that I keep the IJG together at least in part because I genuinely like the people that it attracts. These suspicions began when I realized that putting the group on the road is getting to be a little bit like going on a vacation. An exhausting and expensive vacation, yes, but a vacation nonetheless.

All of which is fortunate, cuz during the recent week-long PNW tour we decided to save a little money by housing eight IJG members (Schnelle, Newell, Francis, Wright, Ling, Richards, Rosenboom, Carroll) here at Casa de Durkin-Robinson instead of in a local hotel. That's in addition to the three people, two cats, and one dog who already call CdDR home. (Jill and Matt were originally going to crash here too, but ended up staying elsewhere because of cat allergies and a Burning Man-induced need for privacy and comfort. Everyone else in this version of the group was PDX-based).

Phew! It was probably madness on my part to suggest this accommodation plan. It's true that one of the things that attracted me to CdDR in the first place was the possibility that I could eventually convert portions of it into a studio / rehearsal / IJG cottage industry space. So I always imagined that it would be filled with musicians from time to time. It's also true that we have much more room here than we could have ever afforded in LA. But our previous record for house guests was seven -- and that only seemed possible at the time because many of those folks were sharing beds. In terms of sleeping arrangements, at least, if seven was a stretch, eight was way more than enough.

But in addition to the space issue, there was the typical problem of trying to integrate tour logistics (and logic) with my cost-cutting measures. Using CdDR as a home base for the IJG would save me the enormous headache of six nights' worth of hotel fees, yes, but it would also mean driving back here after each gig (except for the Portland gig itself, all of the shows on this tour were between 2 and 3 hours from PDX). That made for some pretty late nights and a whole lotta driving. (On the flip side, it also made for some pretty leisurely days.)



Anyway, the whole slumber party aspect of the tour could have gone a lot of different ways, but in the end it was a truly beautiful thing. What makes this even more surprising for me personally is that in general I'm not terribly comfortable in large groups. You would think that one of the qualities of leading a big band is that you'd have to be a bit of an extrovert, but in general, my personality has always skewed toward the "socially awkward" side of things. (Which may help explain why I turned to writing (of all kinds) in the first place.) To paraphrase Zappa: most of the time, socializing is, for me, like exercise.

But with the IJG, more and more, I have as much fun hanging out with the group as I do playing any of the gigs. So for me the memory of this tour will be as much about well-lubricated late-night political discussions, or viewings of Batman (you know the one), or impromptu art projects, as it will be about "The Bee Dance" (for instance).

(We interrupt this post to share two of the aforementioned impromptu art projects: "Dan Schnelle," by Steph Richards; and "Steph Richards," by Dan Schnelle. Apparently I'm not the only dadaist in the group.)





Of course, the success of this housing arrangement was made possible at least in part by the fact that some members of the group have the uncanny ability to fall asleep pretty much wherever they happen to be, whenever they like. (How I wish I could do that.) And it was also facilitated to a large degree by my amazing wife -- the best wife in the world, I'm quite sure -- who probably didn't realize what she was getting into when I talked her into letting the band stay here, but who handled the high traffic, late nights, and extra cooking with seemingly boundless reserves of aplomb.

The bottom line was that everybody was chill.



I recall a fragment of a conversation -- I think it was immediately after our last hit, in Yakima, as we were driving around looking for coffee and gas to fuel our 3-hour ride home. Dan Rosenboom and Steph Richards both remarked how unusual it was to work with a group in which the members all got along so well. They suggested that this feature of the IJG experience is attributable to the music, as if the music caused the camaraderie. From my perspective the scenario is just the opposite. The music is the way it is because of the camaraderie. That's the hard-to-explain root source of the "IJG sound." (I have always made clear that I cannot write in a vacuum; lucky for me the group chemistry provides me with all the inspiration I need whenever it comes time to put the dots on paper.)

I suppose I recognize this because there have been past lineups that haven't delivered 100% on the chemistry side of things. Once in a while we have had folks fleetingly join the group who may have been truly stellar players in any other context, but who just didn't "get" what we were doing, at least in part because they didn't pick up on the social vibe. It wasn't a big deal, really -- just evidence that making music is about much more than the technical side of things. And that the IJG will never be a hired-gun, repertory-type big band.

Anyway, over eight years (or however long we've been together) I guess you develop a sense for the necessary dynamic, and the result is that the current broader IJG network -- which is in fact much bigger than a mere 16 people, and includes our beloved Calartians-who-can't-always-tour, east coast folks, PDX newbies, and so on -- has become much more of what I would have to call an extended family of sorts. If I may be so bold.



Alright, this installment of the tour narrative is getting impossibly maudlin, so I'll sign off for now. Up next: the video for one of our other new tunes: "Jazz-Pop Jerkoff." (I'm one. Are you one?)

(photo credits: 1, 6: Ling. 2, 3, 4, 5: Durkin)

Perspective, part 2

Ta-Nehisi Coates has some, too:

The saddest thing about many Republicans isn't just that they disagree with liberals on race--it's they are largely ignorant on race. When the McCain campaign cast the spell of diabolical jingoism, they have no idea of the forces they are toying with. We remember Martin Luther King's murder as a sad and tragic event. Less remembered is the fact that ground-work for King's murder was seeded, not simply by rank white supremacy, but by people who slandered King as a communist.

This was not some notion bandied about by conspiracy theorist, but an accusation proffered by men who were the pillars of the modern Republican Party [...] These men didn't kill Martin Luther King, but they contributed to an atmosphere of nationalism, white supremacy and cheap unreflective patriotism that ultimately got a lot of people killed. [...]

This is the ghost that McCain Campaign is summoning. This is the Ring Of Power that they want to wield. The Muslim charge, the "Hussein" thing is nothing more than today's red-baiting, and it is what it was then--a cover for racists. You may say I'm overreacting, and I really hope you're right. [...] But if some shit pops off, the thug and thug-mongers will not be able to throw up their hands and say "How could I have known?" Ignorance will not save them. Their stupidity is a scourge on us all.

Yes.

Via Sullivan.

Perspective

Eric Martin has some:

It is incontrovertible that Obama has no formal relationship with Ayers. Ayers is not an official advisor, informal advisor, confidant or, in the parlance of the day, a pal. Contrast Ayers' non-relation to Obama with that of, say, Henry Kissinger. As Campos recounts, "Kissinger is honorary co-chair of McCain's New York campaign, and a foreign policy adviser to McCain himself."

Now let's compare some of the terrorist activities of, on the one hand, non-advisor, non-related William Ayers and, on the other hand, official adviser and honorary co-chair Henry Kissinger. Ayers:

...[A]s a member of the Weather Underground, [Ayers] set off several bombs that did some serious property damage. None of the bombings Ayers was involved with killed anyone, but several years later other members of the group took part in an armed robbery in which two police officers and a guard were killed.

Kissinger:

An abbreviated list of the events that have made it dangerous for Kissinger to travel overseas, because of the possibility he would be arrested as a war criminal, include: covertly sabotaging Vietnam peace talks in 1968 in order to help get Richard Nixon elected; playing a key role in convincing Nixon to launch illegal wars in Laos and Cambodia (the latter action helped create the conditions that led to the Cambodian genocide); helping to plan the overthrow of Chile's democratically elected government, which included numerous assassinations funded by the CIA (again, all this in direct violation of international law); and helping to facilitate the Indonesian invasion of East Timor, which may have killed as many as 200,000 civilians.

Kissinger appears to have had every bit as much contempt for the law as Ayers, with the difference being that his brand of contempt led to millions of deaths.

Read it all.

Quote of the evening, part 3

Matt Taibbi, describing Sarah Palin's convention speech:

"It was like watching Gidget address the Reichstag."

c/o John Cole.

Quote of the evening, part 2

"Nothing aloof about that right hook."

That one is c/o Andrew Sullivan, re: Obama's (second) mention (in a debate) of the McCain Iran "joke" version of "Barbara Ann." (And by the way, as a doo-wop fan, I feel compelled to point out that this tune was originally recorded by the Regents, not the Beach Boys. So calling it "the Beach Boys song" is a little misleading. But of course that's neither here nor there.)

Anyway, did you notice how the aforementioned right hook came a few seconds after Obama had managed to disarm McCain?

Obama: Now, Sen. McCain suggests that somehow, you know, I'm green behind the ears and, you know, I'm just spouting off, and he's somber and responsible.

McCain (grinning uncomfortably): Thank you very much.

Obama: Sen. McCain, this is the guy who sang, "Bomb, bomb, bomb Iran," who called for the annihilation of North Korea. That I don't think is an example of "speaking softly."

And McCain visibly drooped.

What does "green behind the ears" mean, exactly? Beats me. But I hope we can put to rest the conventional pundit wisdom about Obama not being tough enough to win this.

Quote of the evening

Chris Matthews, post-debate: "John McCain, when he smiles, has a somewhat menacing quality."

Dada interlude

Posted without comment.

Political creativity

More tour tales soon, I swear. In the meantime, John Cole at Balloon Juice posted this, and I grinned:



The question is: what's the genre? Is it a "negative ad"? An "anti-negative" ad? I'm not sure I'd describe it as "sarcastic," as Cole does -- to me, it's comical and satirical, but in a winking and, yes, "hopeful" way. The subtext seems to be: "C'mon, you're smarter than this." It never wades into the self-defeatism of full-on snark. Unlike some other ads I've seen.

In the wake of the first prez debate, there are calls for Obama to get meaner. (That McCain will get meaner is pretty much a given.) But I think injecting a little creativity into the communications process can go a long way. We -- or most of us -- are better than the bullshit.

I wish I spoke Spanish

That way I could have a better understanding of this review of LEEF, just published in the Argentine jazz webzine El Intruso.

Still and all, the google translator turned up this paragraph, which will have to go into my personal hall of fame:

Andrew Durkin, who despite having a doctorate in English literature are self pseudo-intellectual, not designed this maze called the Industrial Jazz Group for ridicule or leave us hanging from a branch like a chimp or for us to eat the boogers in the fetal position while we admire his and spark insight. On the contrary, it invites us to immerse ourselves in this sea of complications in the spirit of that sharpens the wit from a playful perspective. And I see no evil.

Awesome.

Anyway, big thanks to Sergio Piccirilli for giving this poor bastard of a record some attention and love.

Tour tales no. 2: "The Bee Dance"

Okay. Here's another one of my slipshod, shamefully self-promotional IJG movie productions, utilizing audio and video from our recent Pacific Northwest Tour. The audio was entirely recorded in Yakima, which, partly because it was outdoors, was the most highly-mic'd of all of our shows this go-round. So you can actually almost hear the mouthpiece buzzing part at the end of the song.

This tune has more or less been kicking my ass for over a year now. I think that maybe -- just maybe -- I finally got it right this time (this is the third version). One thing I can say for sure: it's amazing the difference a key can make. Anyway, please excuse the typical problems of live sound and etc.

So what's with the title? That's right, this is another in our song cycle of tunes dealing with the subject of animals -- an aesthetic obsession described in more detail here. If you want to know more about waggle dance (the technical term), here's a neat article. Apparently,

[t]he direction and duration of waggle runs are closely correlated with the direction and distance of the patch of flowers being advertised by the dancing bee. Flowers located directly in line with the sun are represented by waggle runs in an upward direction on the vertical combs, and any angle to the right or left of the sun is coded by a corresponding angle to the right or left of the upward direction. The distance between hive and recruitment target is encoded in the duration of the waggle runs. The farther the target, the longer the waggle phase, with a rate of increase of about 75 milliseconds per 100 meters.

And here's some truly rad footage of real bees getting down with their bad selves.

Anyway, this incarnation of the tune features: Dan Rosenboom (trumpet / piccolo trumpet), Steph Richards (trumpet), Ian Carroll (bone), Nelson Bell (bone), Cory Wright (soprano sax), Lee Elderton (soprano sax), Evan Francis (alto sax), Ward Baxter (tenor sax), Mary-Sue Tobin (tenor sax), Mieke Bruggeman (bari sax), Jill Knapp (vox), Tany Ling (vox), Dan Schnelle (drums), Oliver Newell (bass), and yours truly (conducting, composition).

Opening clip of a bee c/o Ivan Bridgewater and the Internet Archive. Other footage c/o Tany Ling, Jill Knapp, Matt Lichtenwalner, and Andrew Durkin.

More to come...

Speaking of dirty words

More tour tales soon. In the meantime:



Great googly-moogly! Joe's Garage is coming to the stage (in LA, of course). The LA Weekly has a cover story by Steven Leigh Morris.

It's impossible to talk about this masterpiece (one of Zappa's many masterpieces) without referencing the PMRC brouhaha. Zappa, as you probably know, was an opposing witness at those hearings, and Joe's Garage, which came out a few years before the brouhaha, was a particularly obscene album in an oeuvre full of obscene alums. As I suggested in the discussion occasioned by my last post, it seems strange to me that we haven't made a whole lot of progress in terms of how we relate to this stuff as a culture. It seems we have anything but, ahem, catholic (little "c") tastes.



By the way: anyone who has read (or re-read) Zappa's autobiography in the "post-9/11 world" might have noticed that the man could be pretty prescient. Consider the evidence found in this PMRC-inspired Crossfire exchange, quoted by Morris:

Zappa: The biggest threat to America today is not communism, it's moving America toward a fascist theocracy, and everything that's happened during the Reagan administration is steering us right down that pipe.

Novak:... Do you really think ... in this country, with the permissiveness, that we are moving toward a fascist theocracy?

Zappa: You bet we are, buddy.

[Lofton and Novak laugh derisively.]

Braden: One example of a fascist theocracy?

Zappa: When you have a government that prefers a certain moral code derived from a certain religion, and that moral code turns into legislation to suit one certain religious point of view, and if that code happens to be very, very right wing, almost toward Attila the Hun ...

Lofton: Then you are an anarchist. Every form of civil government is based on some kind of morality, Frank.

Zappa: Morality in terms of behavior, not in terms of theology.

Many of Zappa's Crossfire appearances have been available on YouTube at some point (subject to the whims of the estate).

Tour tales no. 1: The wages of profanity and political commentary

The Ws were always the kind of fan that any group would be honored to have. When they were still living in Bakersfield, they came to every show, talked us up to all their friends, bought all our records and swag, and even filmed many of our performances. (They would always follow up by sending me carefully annotated DVDs adorned with artwork of their own devising.)

Actually, for a few of our early Bakersfield shows, the Ws comprised nearly half of the audience. Yet they stuck with us regardless of the sort of turnout we got: they were just as enthusiastic about the "tumbleweed gigs" as they were about, for instance, our performance in front of thousands of people at the 2007 Bakersfield Jazz Festival.

So when we arrived at Eugene's Cozmic Pizza last Wednesday evening and found the Ws waiting for us (they had driven 40 minutes from Corvalis, the Oregon city where they had coincidentally moved in the last year), I was, to put it mildly, flattered beyond belief. Initial pleasantries were exchanged (the Ws took pride in knowing several members of the group by name) and we all prepared for the evening's concert.

Once things got rolling with our opening tune (our tribute to Keith Jarrett, which you will remember from the last tour), I sort of lost all perspective on the audience (as I tend to do when I go into conductor mode). So it wasn't until after the end of the first set that I discovered that the Ws were gone. And it wasn't until I had had a chance to speak with Matt (who, as usual, went way beyond the call of duty on this tour and worked the door for pretty much all of our shows) that I learned what had driven the Ws away.

In a nutshell, the Ws were offended by 1. our "filthy" language and 2. our anti-McCain song (which, I probably should have mentioned earlier, is called "Civility").

No, really! Apparently it is possible for someone who has only heard our earlier albums (which feature such wholesome tunes as "Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboy-Presidents," "Full-on Freak," and "Baby, Shake That Thing") to assume that we are an innocuous, god-fearing, Republican outfit.

What can I say? On the one hand, I'm sort of proud that something we created actually pissed someone off enough to make them walk out of a show. I mean, isn't the ultimate point of political art that it have some sort of observable impact? That it move beyond merely noble-sounding lip-service? Isn't that the quality that purists long for when they (however bombastically) say that jazz (or punk, or whatever) is no longer a "socially relevant" music?

On the other hand, if that's a victory of sorts, it feels kinda hollow. I mean, this group is in no position to be losing fans -- particularly the sort of fans who remind one that the root of of the word "fan" is "fanatic." I genuinely liked the Ws, and I'm just as irritated by the fact that they failed to see the "offense" that they took as an opportunity for dialogue about art / politics as I am by the fact that their "fanhood" was very hard-earned over a long period of time. The situation sort of cracks me up and depresses me at the same time.

Not that I have any regrets (whatsoever) about the aesthetic / political directions the band has taken in recent years. The charts are what they are: the truest music I know how to make at the moment. I can't do much about that -- and in fact in some ways I feel that it is only recently that the group has managed to find its own voice. Why on earth would I want to dial that back?

* * * * *

Two addenda:

1. We had good reasons to edit our final two shows of this tour. Our PDX hit was an all-ages affair attended by many youngsters 10 and under -- so while we left the John McCain song in place, we had to creatively tone down the language in some of the other tunes, which truthfully added a whole other level of comedy to the experience (for instance, in "Big Ass Truck" we substituted the phrase "fiddlesticks" for "what the fuck"). And moments before our Yakima show -- the final night of the tour -- I got the talk from the series' artistic director: "Yakima is a pretty conservative town, they're not going to go for anything with the word 'fuck' in it, etc., etc." Again, we creatively toned down some of the language, though it wasn't quite as funny in this context for some reason.

2. A few days after the tour was over, I got a package in the mail. It was from the Ws. They were returning the CD and the T-Shirt they had bought in Eugene a few nights before, with a note explaining that they couldn't support offensive music.

What the fuck?

Ups and downs

First, the latter: from the great Tom D'Antoni comes news of the demise of the PDX jazz festival. Crap, for many reasons.

Second, the former: also from Tom (same post): a very enthusiastic review of our show here in PDX last Friday. I am blushing profusely, though I admit that that show was the best (and most fun) of the tour. (I promise, some sort of post-tour write-up is coming soon.)

A band of many influences

You never know when one of them is going to pop up in an impromptu post-gig singalong (this one occurred last Wednesday night, when we were in Eugene):

John McCain is a selfish prick

As promised, our anti-McCain ad, in a version we did last night at Le Voyeur in Olympia. It's pretty stupid and tasteless, but then, most negative ads are.

For soprano (Ling), piano (Durkin), and bullhorn (Rosenboom). Videography by Matt Lichtenwalner.

The video:



The words:

John McCain has a microchip
implanted in his head to give him helpful tips
on how to start the next world war
and what that ugly little button is for

John McCain is an evil boob
they feed him chopped up kittens through a plastic tube
he farts whenever he thinks too hard
his victims are all buried in his backyard

Yes he has been baking in the Arizona sun
simple things are hard to comprehend
he'll use his medieval mace
to make the world a safer place
only for the rich Americans

John McCain is a selfish prick
who pokes at open wounds with a salty stick
he peed in your coffee pot late last night
he thinks that everything is going alright

More updates to follow.

Hello, Seattle!

A fun show at the Jewel Box Theater last night. Possibly our smallest turnout ever, but that doesn't always matter, does it?

Here's the amazing Baby Gramps rocking out with his "friend from the sixties":



Ian Carroll preps for the show by donning a hazmat-emergency-type suit, c/o my good friends Sarah and Matt:



Most of the ensemble, after the madness. Back row, L-R: Ward Baxter, Dan Rosenboom, Lee Elderton, Mary-Sue Tobin, Dan Schnelle, Ian Carroll, yours truly, Baby Gramps, Jill Knapp, Gramps' friend from the 60s, Tany Ling. Middle row, L-R: Cory Wright, Oliver Newell, Evan Francis, Stephanie Richards. Front row, L-R: Samantha Boshnack, Nelson Bell. Motherfuckers one and all.



More to follow. If you're in the area, come check us out at Cozmic Pizza tonight!

Rehearsal, 9/1

Present and accounted for:

Jill Knapp (vox)
Tany Ling (vox)
Dan Schnelle (drums)
Oliver Newell (bass)
Cory Wright (soprano sax)
Lee Elderton (soprano sax)
Ward Baxter (tenor sax)
Mary Sue Tobin (tenor sax)
Mieke Bruggeman (bari sax)
Dan Rosenboom (trumpet)
Stephanie Richards (trumpet)
Ian Carroll (bone)
Derek Bondy (bone)

Not the full group, yet. Tomorrow we'll add Evan Francis, Samantha Boshnack, and Nelson Bell for our first show in Seattle. Hang on!

Never a dull whatever

If you know me at all, you know I'm dying to comment on the political events of the past ten days. Would that I had the fucking time. I've got a tour this week, by gum!

That's right, Pacific Northwesters, an authentic version of the IJG is coming this week to a venue near you -- Tuesday in Seattle, Wednesday in Eugene, Thursday in Olympia, Friday in Portland, and Saturday in Yakima. (Click the preceding link for details.)

I'll try to pseudo-live-blog it, in my typical pseudo-live-blogging way.

In the meantime, check out the new (and vastly improved) IJG website. I really had very little to do with this. Which is why it looks so awesome. (Kudos to Jill and Matt.)

And as for the political thing -- one quote that stuck with me this week was Gore Vidal discussing the Republicans on the Rachel Maddow show: "We're not up against a political party. We're up against a mafia."

I wrote a little anti-McCain tune for this tour -- we'll see if we actually get to it.

Whee!

Station identification

(Just by way of reminding you that this is a music blog too...)

For a week or so, I've been reviewing a few of the billions and billions of versions of "Mbube" (aka "Wimoweh," aka "The Lion Sleeps Tonight") that are conveniently cataloged on YouTube. I'm going to be working with a children's choir in the fall (more on this later), and I'm trying to contextualize this old chestnut for the kids -- and if you don't know, the context is remarkably depressing -- while simultaneously working up my own arrangement (I know, I know).

There's a great moment in Hannah and Her Sisters, where Max von Sydow's character says "If Jesus came back and saw what's going on in his name, he'd never stop throwing up." Somehow I think Solomon Linda (the guy who created "Mbube" in the first place, but who nevertheless died in poverty) would have the same reaction to some of the better-known covers of his baby -- especially when he learned the amount of money that could be made with them. (The Weavers, the Kingston Trio, and the Tokens all had hits with variations of the tune before Linda died in 1962, but I suspect that the real exploitation came with Disney's insipid Lion King movie many years later.)

Of course, no one has ever accused me of being a purist, and I do think there's something interesting about the way this song persists. A few of the renditions I discovered even border on the charming (or at least comical, which can arguably be the same thing).

This one, for instance, may be the very definition of incongruity:



Hmmm. I think I want to hire these stern dudes with the funny robes and hats to sit and stare at IJG audiences too:



Oh my goodness! Here's Dusty Springfield (with the other Springfields), before she got all, you know, sultry:



This one has probably the worst ending ever, but I was inspired by the curly-haired girl in the orange row. She is so into it that she can't help but bop around -- and she clearly doesn't care that no one else is following her lead. That, to me, is the very definition of music:



But this next one is my favorite. I had never heard of Karl Denver before, even though he was apparently "the most famous folksinger in Europe" at the time:

Turning it around

So I stayed up half the night nursing a meniscal tear (knee: meet handlebars), "typesetting" charts for the upcoming IJG tour, and distractedly getting a kick out of the wee-hour coverage of the Biden VP pick announcement.

First things first: at one point one of the pundits (it may have been David Shuster, though again, I was distracted) tried to make something of the fact that the media scooped the promised text message (as if that wasn't inevitable). Good golly. If said scooping really causes discontent with Obama supporters, then I am truly out of the loop.

Anyway, I have been thinking all week that Biden was a strong, even masterful choice for VP, but as usual, it took Ezra Klein to articulate exactly why:

There was a hope in the early days of the Obama campaign that different would be enough. Different in aesthetics and experience and age and ideas. Different would assert change. Kathleen Sebelius would have represented change. Visually, her and Obama on a stage together would have been the most powerful image of political transformation in decades. But a choice like her presupposed belief. Otherwise, you'd be adorning a cathedral that had no promise of parishioners.

Turned out not to be true. So they needed an arguer. Someone able to make the case that the other guy is wrong, and Obama is right. That's, fundamentally, what Biden represents. Biden doesn't presuppose belief. He's a persuader. Sometimes at great length, sometimes to the point of virtual self parody, but fundamentally, his political style has always been to argue until everyone else agrees.

For progressives, this is encouraging pick. More encouraging than Bayh, or Kaine, or even, in a way, Sebelius. More encouraging than picks who might have been more progressive, but less pugnacious. Elevating Biden suggests that the Obama campaign has decided to have an argument. Not try to win on momentum and inspiration and GOTV, but to engage, and win, an argument about which set of ideas is better for the future of the country. And in Biden, they've engaged at the point of greatest vulnerability and opportunity for Democrats: National security.

Consider this in tandem with the strong "7 Houses" ad, which also came out this week, and in which McCain is taken to task not only for his inability to remember how many houses he has, but for his inability to remember, period. (The announcer subtly reminds voters that McCain is old -- "he lost track, he couldn't remember" is intoned over a backdrop of images / music that could have been lifted out of an ad for a nursing home -- a subject that would be off limits if it were approached more directly.)

I suspect that, taken together, the events of the past few days bear out Randi Rhodes' theory that Obama has been developing a Rope-a-Dope strategy. At the very least, they remind me of one of Obama's great strengths: his ability to respond in the moment to the circumstances that surround him. (Kind of like an expert improviser.)

We'll see where it goes from here.