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I was visiting my parents a few weeks back. They're at an age where
there isn't much to talk about, or at least nothing we haven't been
saying for decades. So I guess I should be grateful for cable TV,
although even there the pickings were mighty slim. One surprise was
an unscheduled concert on PBS, a live benefit from Lincoln Center for
the victims of Hurricane Katrina. As you might expect, it was heavily
oriented toward music from New Orleans, not that that's much of a
limitation. There was a lot of jazz, and a lot of blues. And for a
moment my father looked a good half a century and more younger, as he
remembered his own trumpet playing days back in the mists of time. As
the concert rolled on we even found a shared love in the music of
Louis Armstrong. I think dad would like this album, not that he has
any interest in modern technology like iPods or even CD players. But
it's the music that matters, not how it gets played. And great music
has a funny way of staying great.
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