The first half of this article about Corsica in the Times, and the photos showing its ridiculous natural beauty, had me pretty tempted to go there. The second half, about the nightclubs, DJs and billionaires who hang out there? Not so much. But at least there are some reasonably priced hotels.

1. "That's his equity shot" (referring to a player's backhand)

2. "Which one would you buy futures stock in?" (referring to two up-and-coming players)

3. "That's a high beta shot" (a player's forehand, which had produced many winners and many unforced errors as well)

In the Times, a piece about the Pumpkin House, which juts out over cliffs above the Hudson at 186th Street. I've sometimes wondered at it while walking along the river. The nickname is an imaginative one considering its oblong shape; it looks as if it were built expecting to be abutted by a row of such houses that never materialized.

Kudos to the Times for going to what must have been considerable effort getting photos of the building at all the angles seen in the article and the slide show.

So I see that there's a show with the National and Grizzly Bear, and hosted by the guys from Stella: not a bad lineup. Perhaps I will purchase tickets, I say to myself. I click over to a page at New York Magazine's site, and try to select 2 tickets, but I can only select either 0 or 1. What the? Oh, there's some fine print:

Limit: One ticket per person. Why? Because, each transaction includes a one-year (46-issues) subscription to New York magazine, a $9.97 value.

The truth slowly dawns on me. Oh dear god. I have no choice but to go through the whole purchase process twice, filling in the same information, so that Maya and I can receive two copies of New York until we get around to canceling the subscriptions. And it could be even worse; imagine if we already subscribed.

This is transparent enough as a desperate ploy by New York to slightly boost their circulation numbers, and kind of sad really. But kudos to them for coming up with a creative new way to force me to ask myself if I really want to go to this show that badly.

Also, a $9.97 value?

A couple weeks ago, we caught High Places at (le) Poisson Rouge. Their music is pretty good: they employ complex, tribal rhythms with eclectic and original samples. The vocals are simple but pleasant.

Unfortunately, their live performance has not quite caught up. I can see that they, like many other bands (and myself), are grappling with how to make live electronic music interesting for the audience. But they're losing ground in aspects that should be easy wins.

The band consists of Robert Barber and Mary Pearson. Barber spent the duration of the set banging on one or more pads with drumsticks to trigger samples, occasionally pausing to manipulate unseen knobs or buttons. I tried to figure out which parts of the beats he was producing, and eventually decided that he had just one pad and was producing one component of the beat in each song. He was very focused and intense and rarely spoke between songs.

Pearson mostly sang and manipulated, but occasionally added percussion touches like shakers and sleigh bells. Her vocals were barely audible most of the time (moreso than most indie bands), which I found very frustrating. She scrupulously avoided eye contact with the audience, and I sometimes wondered if she wasn't tweaking knobs so much just to look busy. There was also a strong impression that she was giving as little attention and effort as possible to the singing.

I give them credit for not using a laptop, at least not that I could see. The drumming at least gives the show some physicality, although there is still a strange disconnect between action and sound. But if your primary job is to sing, why not make some attempt to engage the audience?

Walter Kitundu is one of the latest crop of MacArthur "genius" grant recipients for his work in music, including the unique instruments he builds, most of which he calls Phonoharps. These are stringed instruments that incorporate a turntable to amplify the sounds of the strings. This article contains some description of their workings, but I still don't understand whether there is a record spinning while he plays the strings. If so, what is on that record, and if not, why does it need to be a record player as opposed to other methods of amplification?

Kitundu's web site featured details and sound samples about every instrument he has made, and other interesting sections such as amazing photographs of birds of prey, but unfortunately as of now it's been replaced by a placeholder page. Is the MacArthur effect really as bad as the Slashdot effect?

This page also has some pictures of Kitundu's creations.