Word: jazz
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Deborah Blum knows so much about poison that even her husband sometimes shies away from her. In her new book, The Poisoner's Handbook: Murder and the Birth of Forensic Medicine in Jazz Age New York, the Pulitzer Prize-winning science writer profiles the two men, New York City chief medical examiner Charles Norris and toxicologist Alexander Gettler, who pioneered forensic medicine in the U.S. between 1915 and 1936. Blum talks to TIME about how the U.S. government took to poisoning its own citizens during Prohibition and why poisoners are the most frightening murderers...
What made the Jazz Age such an interesting time to chronicle? The 1920s are wonderful. They're completely wild. It's a peculiarly anarchist decade because of Prohibition. You have this brand new constitutional amendment. You have the social upheaval that followed World War I. You have this undercurrent of lawlessness that starts running through the decade as people reject the government trying to legislate moral behavior. This really defiant drinking that fosters the rise of massive organized crime. I feel really lucky that the scientists I like invented their field in Jazz Age New York. It's like someone...
...done with the heart and with quality and feeling. It is true that I belong to another older generation, but “today” belongs to young people, and now is their moment. The best example is the pianist on tour with me, Roberto Fonseca. He loves jazz, [and] he is a virtuous man. We have to help new generations...
Damien S. Chazelle ’08, a VES graduate, took advantage of what Boston had to offer in a different way. He worked the energy of the Boston jazz scene and cityscape into a full-length feature film. His film, “Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench,” began as his senior thesis and showed at New York City’s celebrated Tribeca Film Festival...
...Rode Me Down,” follow in the title track’s motley footsteps. Sharp winds and crashes of a thunderstorm give way to flamenco guitar strumming and maracas, mixing with the quirky tinkle of a glockenspiel, hand claps and a spirited jazz flute. The somber growling of a cello intimates the lyrics Staples croons (“She rode me like a storm / Like a soaking brooding storm”), while the clear, brassy peals of the horn section end the track on a vigorous note. It’s easy to ignore the significant compositional skill...