I should probably tell you more about the night Blue pushed me off the bar because that was really when our marriage ended. Sure, we stayed together another nine, twelve, maybe fifteen months more, but nothing was ever good again. She stopped thinking it was possible to make me a man, thought that I was… Read more »
Rob Hardin’s eulogy for his mother Leah, read at her funeral in November, 2010.
I first saw the gold crescent of renegade freedom dangling from the lobe of a nameless hairy hippy Goy, his scrawny, insolent neck bound by a red bandanna. He leaned with outthrust hip of impertinent American coolness against the miniature white plaster-like Arc D’Triumph that looms in meager solemnity over the leafy green, daggered streetlamps… Read more »
I hurried over to Film Forum the other day (first day of the run) to see the 4K restoration of The Third Man, the great 1949 film directed by Carol Reed. Why rush to see a 65-year-old movie, especially one I’ve seen at least ten times already? What makes the long trek in from Brooklyn… Read more »
Studio musician and arranger Robert C. Hardin on his search for the condition of euphoria in music: “It means suspensions and passing tones that linger like a last look at a secret crush from childhood. It means tracks that sparkle, drone and thunder all at the same time.”