A THOUSAND WORDS - Alex Waterhouse-Hayward's blog on pictures, plants, politics and whatever else is on his mind.




 

High Fashion at the VAG - Death In Robson Square
Friday, December 14, 2018



Detail of  a Guo Pei taken with my iPhone3G


Today December 14, 2018 my Rosemary went to town. We drove and parked our Cruze in a back alley near the Vancouver Public Library. I do this because I have a valued municipal plate that allows me to do load and unload for 30 minutes. This time restraint affects me in about one ticket every four years.

Going to town for me is becoming a bird. Birds are present day dinosaurs. This present day dinosaur is a bird in that I know exactly what building preceded any of the new buildings in our city. Those bulidings give mememories of people I photographed within them.

Robson between Granville and Cambie is a huge string of restaurants. Lots of food for the stomach only brings some for the soul if you walk into the Vancouver Public Library which we visited today.
The Vancouver Art Gallery has a terrific show that I have now seen twice.



Guo Pei      

Guo Pei: Couture Beyond

October 13, 2018 - January 20, 2019



Guo Pei: Couture Beyond is the first Canadian exhibition devoted to the work of Guo Pei, China’s preeminent couturière.

It is a visual delight. And as always Rosemary and I had soup (always good) in the Gallery Café.




Not such a visual delight (I am tired of seeing it) is Kim Adams’s Squid (a moveable sculpture) that has been at the entrance of the gallery for many years. The only other sculpture I have ever seen in the outside grounds of the gallery was Douglas Coupland’s Bubble Gum Head.

Squid - Kim Adams


Years ago I was friend with then Vancouver Art Gallery head, Brooks Joyner. One of his plans was to place sculpture outside. Sadly he was gone before his plan came into effect.



On of the few damning utterings by my hero Argentine writer Jorge Luís Borges was his complete repulsion to Canada’s gift to Argentina which was a totem pole. It was placed near the Retiro train station. Borges wondered how a civilized country could have possibly sent that as an example of it. As for me that was my first glimpse of the art of a country I would one day live in. It was the totem pole in Mexico City's Chapultepec Park that was the first my Rosemary ever saw. She is from New Dublin, Ontario.



Even though the Dana Claxton's show Fringing the Cube, presently at the Gallery is a lovely one I do not see why there is no example of Native Canadian art somehow outside to share the space with Squid (which has never moved).

Robson, between Hornby and How has to be the smack centre of the city. Is there anything there except for some ugly foldable chairs and tables and a couple of food wagons? You would think that some designer/architect could bring back some life to the place now that there will no longer be cannabis related protests.

Robson Square which used to have restaurants inside now has empty storefronts. There never seems to be life inside what seems to be the University of British Columbia. There is ice skating. But I believe as my departed friend architect Abraham Rogatnick used to say that ,”UBC has killed Robson Square.” My photograph of that UBC on any given day resembles a lonely Edward Hopper.



Because so many of the buildings I recognized at one time are now gone, as I walked with Rosemary I felt like an alienated interloper. I was in a city in which the nearest and perhaps only bookstore was Macleod’s on Richards and Pender. 

Rosemary


Back in my nest, our Kits duplex while I write this I realize and know that the many negative file cabinets behind me hold those memories that are now fading. I feel like a badly faded photographic print going in the direction so nicely said by General MacArthur.




Tea for Too at the London City - Monk @The Pat
Monday, December 10, 2018


Julio Cortázar at the London City


In a trip to my native Buenos Aires in September my Rosemary and I made sure to visit the London City, a beautiful café/restaurant downtown. It was here where Julio Cortázar wrote his first novel Los Premios published in 1960. He had been in the café before 1951 when his dislike of Perón persuaded him to exile in Paris. But it was in 1950 when Cortázar would visit my father (a journalist for the Buenos Aires Herald). Since Cortázar did not like my father's Players I was seconded to the corner store to buy his favourite Arizonas. To this day I have not forgotten Cortázar's voice but I was too stupid to ever ask my father why it was they were friends.

While at the café I did not find any connection between the lovely setting and the fact that in the background I could listen to Thelonious Monk's version of Tea For Two
.



I forgot all about that until today when I received an email from Roderick MacDonald announcing next week's Jazz@ The Pat.

3 pm Saturday December 15 - Dan Gaucher makes the voyage from Galiano Island to Vancouver to play the music of Thelonious Monk @ The Pat with these wonderful musicians:

Dave Sikula - guitar
Dave Say - saxophones
Brad Turner - trumpet
James Meger - bass
Dan Gaucher - drums

Jazz@ The Pat December 8 2016 with Brad Turner

I am intrigued by this as it must take guts to have a Thelonious Monk program without a piano!  I suspect that Brad Turner just might surprise us with a few tunes on the piano.

As soon as I Googgled Julio Cortázar, Thelonious Monk I found what you see below in both English and Spanish. The Spanish version includes a recording (2013) of Round Midnight by the Spanish Moisés P. Sanchez Trio, (Moisés P. Sánchez, piano, Antonio "Toño" Miguel, bass, and Borja Barrueta on drums).

Round Midnight - Moisés P. Sánchez Trio




cortazar1
 cortazar2



cortazar3




Por. Julio Cortázar



Concierto del cuarteto de Thelonious Monk en Ginebra, marzo de 1966

En Ginebra de día está la oficina de las Naciones Unidas pero de noche hay que vivir y entonces de golpe un afiche en todas partes con noticias de Thelonious Monk y Charles Rouse, es fácil comprender la carrera al Victoria may para fila cinco al centro, los tragos propiciatorios en el bar de la esquina, las hormigas de la alegría, las veintiuna que son interminablemente las diecinueve y treinta, las veinte, las veinte y cuatro, el tercer whisky, Claude Tarnaud que propone una fondue, su mujer y la mía que se miran consternadas pero después se comen la mayor parte, especialmente el final que siempre es lo mejor de la fondue, el vino blanco que agita sus patitas en las copas, el mundo a la espalda y Thelonious semejante al comenta que exactamente dentro de cinco minutos se llevará un pedazo de la tierra como en Héctor Servadac, en todo caso un pedazo de Ginebra con la estatua de Calvino y los cronómetros de Vacheron & Constantin.


Ahora se apagan las luces, nos miramos todavía con ese ligero temblor de despedida que nos gana siempre al empezar un concierto (cruzaremos un río, habrá otro tiempo, el óbolo está listo) y ya el contrabajo levanta su instrumento y lo sondea, brevemente la escobilla recorre el aire del timbal como un escalofrío, y desde el fondo, un oso con un birrete entre turco y solideo se encamina hacia el piano poniendo un pie delante de otro con un cuidado que hace pensar en minas abandonadas o en esos cultivos de flores de los déspotas sasánidas en que cada flor hollada era una lenta muerte de jardinero. Cuando Thelonious se sienta al piano toda la sala se sienta con él y produce un murmullo colectivo del tamaño exacto del alivio, porque el recorrido tangencial de Thelonious por el escenario tiene algo de riesgoso cabotaje fenicio con probables varamientos en las sirtes, y cuando la nave de oscura miel y barbado capitán llega a puerto, la recibe el muelle masónico del Victoria may con un suspiro como de alas apaciguadas, de tajamares cumplidos. Entonces es Pannonica, o Blue Monk, tres sombras como espigas rodean al oso investigando las colmenas del teclado, las burdas zarpas bondadosas yendo y viniendo entre abejas desconcertadas y hexágonos de sonido, ha pasado apenas un minuto y ya estamos en la noche fuera del tiempo, la noche primitiva y delicada de Thelonious Monk.


         

Pero eso no se explica: A rose is a rose is a rose. Se está en una tregua, hay intercesor, quizá en alguna esfera nos redimen. Y luego, cuando Charles Rouse da una paso hacia el micrófono y su saxo dibuja imperiosamente las razones por las que está ahí, Thelonious deja caer las manos, escucha un instante, posa todavía un leve acorde con la izquierda, y el oso se levanta hamacándose, harto de miel o buscando musgo propicio a la modorra, saliéndose del taburete se apoya en el borde del piano marcando el ritmo con un zapato y el birrete, los dedos van resbalando por el piano, primero al borde mismo del teclado donde podría haber un cenicero y una cerveza pero no hay más que Steinway & Sons, y luego inician imperceptiblemente un safari de dedos por el borde de la caja del piano mientras el oso se hamaca cadencioso porque Rouse y el contrabajo y el percusionista están enredados en el misterio mismo de su trinidad y Thelonious viaja vertiginosamente sin moverse, pasando de centímetro en centímetro rumbo a la cola del piano a la que no se llegará, se sabe que no llegará porque para llegar le haría más tiempo que a Phileas Fogg, más trineos de vela, rápidos de miel de abeto, elefantes y trenes endurecidos por la velocidad para salvar el abismo de un puente roto, de manera que Thelonious viaja a su manera, apoyándose en un pie y luego en otro sin salirse del lugar, cabeceando en el puente de su Pequod varado en un teatro, y cada tanto moviendo los dedos para ganar un centímetro o mil millas, quedándose otra vez quieto y como precavido, tomando la altura con un sextante de humo y renunciando a seguir adelante y llegar al extremo de la caja del piano, hasta que la mano abandona el borde, el oso gira paulatino y todo podría ocurrir en ese instante en que le falta el apoyo, en que flota como un alción sobre el ritmo donde Charles Rouse está echando las últimas vehementes largas pinceladas de violeta y de rojo, el oso se balancea amablemente y regresa nube a nube hacia el teclado, lo mira como por primera vez, pasea por el aire los dedos indecisos, los deja caer y estamos salvados, hay Thelonious capitán, hay rumbo por un rato, y el gesto de Rouse al retroceder mientras desprende el saxo del soporte tiene algo de entrega de poderes, de legado que devuelve al Dogo las llaves de la serenísima



Jazz@ThePat - A Flugelhorn & Painting With Drums
Sunday, December 09, 2018


Brad Turner - Jazz@ThePat , December 9 2018



Jack Stafford - saxophone
Oliver Gannon - guitar
Al Wold - piano
André Lachance - bass
Craig Scott - drums
Jerry Boey - trumpet
Wendy Biscuit - guest vocalist
November 10

Brad Turner 5tet
Brad Turner - trumpet
Jon Bentley - saxophone
Bruno Hubert - piano
André Lachance - bass
Dylan Van der Schyff – drums
December 9

This old man, aged 76 bought his first jazz album, TheMagic Flute of Herbie Mann (it included the song Oodles of Noodles) in Austin, Texas in 1958. In 1960 I heard the Dave Brubeck Quartet live at the University of Texas.

By 1962/63 I was going with friends to the CIA-front Benjamin Franklin Library in Mexico City on Mondays to listen to jazz records played by a DJ called Jerry Hulse who had red hair and looked a lot like Gerry Mulligan. The hour long sessions included free Nescafe.



On November 10, 2018 my retired journalist friend Maurice Bridge picked me up and dragged me to a hotel on East Hastings called The Patricia Hotel. Its bar is home to Roderick MacDonald’s Jazz at the Pat.

The concept of this is that since the hours of the sessions (no cover charge and there is not only fine booze but great food) is from 3 to 7 the hours are daylight safe for we the oldies who might not want to venture into the “unknown”. The schedule also means that the performers can all get more gigs (as my friend saxophonist Gavin Walker likes to say) in the evening.

The November 5 afternoon session included the surprise apparition (presence!) of recluse pianist Al Wold and the electric performance on electric guitar of Oliver Gagnon. The others I did not know but I was soon comfortable and having fun listening to music that reminded me of the be-bop era of the late 50s.

Because of the arrangement of the stage (in some areas there are posts that obstruct the view) and the fact that only one person works behind the bar it is my recommendation that you arrive before 3, get a table and buy your drinks (the lines get long).

But I must digress here to a day some years ago when I went to the Cultch for a send-off to Owen Underhill (now the artistic director of the Turning Point Ensemble) who was leaving another job which might have been his connection with new music. The highlight of the afternoon was a duo with Vern Griffiths on percussion and trumpet player Brad Turner. The latter was wearing a hat that hid his face. Most of the wonderful performance involved Turner never really playing anything with this instrument but making noises with the keys and blowing.



There seems to be a problem with my memory. Vern Griffiths tells me that if he had played with Brad Turner he would have remembered. Turner on Saturday told me that he has played so many concerts and venues that he has no recollection. 

But there is another concert featuring Brad Turner’s Seven Scenes from a Childhood performed by the Turning Point Ensemble that I attended. When the piece was about to begin a short young man entered the room and sat in the middle of an orchestra with a miniature drum kit. This was Brad Turner. This memory of mine Turner did not deny!

So when I received an email from MacDonald announcing a Saturday Jazz@The Pat, I had to go. And I did.

I was lucky enough to sit with MacDonald, jazz drummer and retired journalist (the Vancouver Sun) Mark Andrews and euphonium (and other instruments) playing Sharman King.



Hovering around the room with his trademark beret was Andreas Nothiger (who ran a successful operation for many years at the Classical Joint in the late 70s and 80s). It is my belief that this saintly looking man may have made some sort of pact with the Angel of Darkness as he looks exactly the same as he did in 1980.

The two hour-long sets that I witnessed dragged me back to my youth and I had a hard time putting into my head the idea that I had heard music like this so long ago. But this was not exactly the case as Brad Turner played only tunes of his quartet in the first set (and then joined by tenor saxophonist Jon Bentley) and in the second set the pieces were so new that they were either unnamed or had multiple provisional names.

Perhaps Mark Andrews was there because drummer Dylan Van der Schyff, who was described by the men (plenty of women in other tables) at my table as a painter, was playing. If any drummer could ever be labeled and defined as subtle and discreet he is one of very few.

Pianist Bruno Hubert played with a style full of humour that I could not pin down. And consider that as far as jazz pianists are concerned two of my faves (who cannot be pinned down either) is the long departed Richard Twardzic and Pacific Baroque Orchestra Musical Director and harpsichordist Alexander Weimann (plays a mean jazz piano). Huber never played loudly but had a delicate touch which could shine ever so nicely when he accompanied bassist André Lachance.

I have no idea if any of these fine solos were planned by Brad Turner. The fact is that they were seamless thanks to Bruno Hubert.




The saxophonist, Jon Bentley blended nicely in duos with Turner that reminded me a lot of Gerry Mulligan with his piano less quartets that put the trumpet always on the spot.

As for Brad Turner he had a lovely flugelhorn on a stand by the floor. And he played it a lot. At this stage of my life I found it hard to discern the difference but that difference did happen when Turner played a few quite numbers.

My fave song of the evening was Junior Pants, a joke related to oldies like me who remember pianist Junior Mance.

The afternoon was a pleasant one for me. I spotted other friends in the crowd. The room is spotless and the hotel looks like, soon now, (who knows!) it might become another boutique hotel like some dives of my ecdysiast-watching past like the Niagara, the St. Regis, the Dufferin and the Austin.

Meanwhile I cannot think of a better thing do to do (and feel no guilt) like spending time on a Saturday at Jazz@The Pat.




     

Previous Posts
Standing Wave - Venerable Cutting Edge

Bach on Amphetamines

Tarren - Liquid Fire

I Am Alone Here

Gallic Connections @ The Patricia Hotel

A Stanley Park Rape, Bill Evans, a Cop & a Methodo...

Looking Back at 2018

Ellen Morton, Georgia O'Keefe & Anne Brigman

Sivad - an EWI & Ron Samworth - Jazz @ The Pat

Wild Palms & 220 Voltage



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6/12/11 - 6/19/11

6/19/11 - 6/26/11

6/26/11 - 7/3/11

7/3/11 - 7/10/11

7/10/11 - 7/17/11

7/17/11 - 7/24/11

7/24/11 - 7/31/11

7/31/11 - 8/7/11

8/7/11 - 8/14/11

8/14/11 - 8/21/11

8/21/11 - 8/28/11

8/28/11 - 9/4/11

9/4/11 - 9/11/11

9/11/11 - 9/18/11

9/18/11 - 9/25/11

9/25/11 - 10/2/11

10/2/11 - 10/9/11

10/9/11 - 10/16/11

10/16/11 - 10/23/11

10/23/11 - 10/30/11

10/30/11 - 11/6/11

11/6/11 - 11/13/11

11/13/11 - 11/20/11

11/20/11 - 11/27/11

11/27/11 - 12/4/11

12/4/11 - 12/11/11

12/11/11 - 12/18/11

12/18/11 - 12/25/11

12/25/11 - 1/1/12

1/1/12 - 1/8/12

1/8/12 - 1/15/12

1/15/12 - 1/22/12

1/22/12 - 1/29/12

1/29/12 - 2/5/12

2/5/12 - 2/12/12

2/12/12 - 2/19/12

2/19/12 - 2/26/12

2/26/12 - 3/4/12

3/4/12 - 3/11/12

3/11/12 - 3/18/12

3/18/12 - 3/25/12

3/25/12 - 4/1/12

4/1/12 - 4/8/12

4/8/12 - 4/15/12

4/15/12 - 4/22/12

4/22/12 - 4/29/12

4/29/12 - 5/6/12

5/6/12 - 5/13/12

5/13/12 - 5/20/12

5/20/12 - 5/27/12

5/27/12 - 6/3/12

6/3/12 - 6/10/12

6/10/12 - 6/17/12

6/17/12 - 6/24/12

6/24/12 - 7/1/12

7/1/12 - 7/8/12

7/8/12 - 7/15/12

7/15/12 - 7/22/12

7/22/12 - 7/29/12

7/29/12 - 8/5/12

8/5/12 - 8/12/12

8/12/12 - 8/19/12

8/19/12 - 8/26/12

8/26/12 - 9/2/12

9/2/12 - 9/9/12

9/9/12 - 9/16/12

9/16/12 - 9/23/12

9/23/12 - 9/30/12

9/30/12 - 10/7/12

10/7/12 - 10/14/12

10/14/12 - 10/21/12

10/21/12 - 10/28/12

10/28/12 - 11/4/12

11/4/12 - 11/11/12

11/11/12 - 11/18/12

11/18/12 - 11/25/12

11/25/12 - 12/2/12

12/2/12 - 12/9/12

12/9/12 - 12/16/12

12/16/12 - 12/23/12

12/23/12 - 12/30/12

12/30/12 - 1/6/13

1/6/13 - 1/13/13

1/13/13 - 1/20/13

1/20/13 - 1/27/13

1/27/13 - 2/3/13

2/3/13 - 2/10/13

2/10/13 - 2/17/13

2/17/13 - 2/24/13

2/24/13 - 3/3/13

3/3/13 - 3/10/13

3/10/13 - 3/17/13

3/17/13 - 3/24/13

3/24/13 - 3/31/13

3/31/13 - 4/7/13

4/7/13 - 4/14/13

4/14/13 - 4/21/13

4/21/13 - 4/28/13

4/28/13 - 5/5/13

5/5/13 - 5/12/13

5/12/13 - 5/19/13

5/19/13 - 5/26/13

5/26/13 - 6/2/13

6/2/13 - 6/9/13

6/9/13 - 6/16/13

6/16/13 - 6/23/13

6/23/13 - 6/30/13

6/30/13 - 7/7/13

7/7/13 - 7/14/13

7/14/13 - 7/21/13

7/21/13 - 7/28/13

7/28/13 - 8/4/13

8/4/13 - 8/11/13

8/11/13 - 8/18/13

8/18/13 - 8/25/13

8/25/13 - 9/1/13

9/1/13 - 9/8/13

9/8/13 - 9/15/13

9/15/13 - 9/22/13

9/22/13 - 9/29/13

9/29/13 - 10/6/13

10/6/13 - 10/13/13

10/13/13 - 10/20/13

10/20/13 - 10/27/13

10/27/13 - 11/3/13

11/3/13 - 11/10/13

11/10/13 - 11/17/13

11/17/13 - 11/24/13

11/24/13 - 12/1/13

12/1/13 - 12/8/13

12/8/13 - 12/15/13

12/15/13 - 12/22/13

12/22/13 - 12/29/13

12/29/13 - 1/5/14

1/5/14 - 1/12/14

1/12/14 - 1/19/14

1/19/14 - 1/26/14

1/26/14 - 2/2/14

2/2/14 - 2/9/14

2/9/14 - 2/16/14

2/16/14 - 2/23/14

2/23/14 - 3/2/14

3/2/14 - 3/9/14

3/9/14 - 3/16/14

3/16/14 - 3/23/14

3/23/14 - 3/30/14

3/30/14 - 4/6/14

4/6/14 - 4/13/14

4/13/14 - 4/20/14

4/20/14 - 4/27/14

4/27/14 - 5/4/14

5/4/14 - 5/11/14

5/11/14 - 5/18/14

5/18/14 - 5/25/14

5/25/14 - 6/1/14

6/1/14 - 6/8/14

6/8/14 - 6/15/14

6/15/14 - 6/22/14

6/22/14 - 6/29/14

6/29/14 - 7/6/14

7/6/14 - 7/13/14

7/13/14 - 7/20/14

7/20/14 - 7/27/14

7/27/14 - 8/3/14

8/3/14 - 8/10/14

8/10/14 - 8/17/14

8/17/14 - 8/24/14

8/24/14 - 8/31/14

8/31/14 - 9/7/14

9/7/14 - 9/14/14

9/14/14 - 9/21/14

9/21/14 - 9/28/14

9/28/14 - 10/5/14

10/5/14 - 10/12/14

10/12/14 - 10/19/14

10/19/14 - 10/26/14

10/26/14 - 11/2/14

11/2/14 - 11/9/14

11/9/14 - 11/16/14

11/16/14 - 11/23/14

11/23/14 - 11/30/14

11/30/14 - 12/7/14

12/7/14 - 12/14/14

12/14/14 - 12/21/14

12/21/14 - 12/28/14

12/28/14 - 1/4/15

1/4/15 - 1/11/15

1/11/15 - 1/18/15

1/18/15 - 1/25/15

1/25/15 - 2/1/15

2/1/15 - 2/8/15

2/8/15 - 2/15/15

2/15/15 - 2/22/15

2/22/15 - 3/1/15

3/1/15 - 3/8/15

3/8/15 - 3/15/15

3/15/15 - 3/22/15

3/22/15 - 3/29/15

3/29/15 - 4/5/15

4/5/15 - 4/12/15

4/12/15 - 4/19/15

4/19/15 - 4/26/15

4/26/15 - 5/3/15

5/3/15 - 5/10/15

5/10/15 - 5/17/15

5/17/15 - 5/24/15

5/24/15 - 5/31/15

5/31/15 - 6/7/15

6/7/15 - 6/14/15

6/14/15 - 6/21/15

6/21/15 - 6/28/15

6/28/15 - 7/5/15

7/5/15 - 7/12/15

7/12/15 - 7/19/15

7/19/15 - 7/26/15

7/26/15 - 8/2/15

8/2/15 - 8/9/15

8/9/15 - 8/16/15

8/16/15 - 8/23/15

8/23/15 - 8/30/15

8/30/15 - 9/6/15

9/6/15 - 9/13/15

9/13/15 - 9/20/15

9/20/15 - 9/27/15

9/27/15 - 10/4/15

10/4/15 - 10/11/15

10/18/15 - 10/25/15

10/25/15 - 11/1/15

11/1/15 - 11/8/15

11/8/15 - 11/15/15

11/15/15 - 11/22/15

11/22/15 - 11/29/15

11/29/15 - 12/6/15

12/6/15 - 12/13/15

12/13/15 - 12/20/15

12/20/15 - 12/27/15

12/27/15 - 1/3/16

1/3/16 - 1/10/16

1/10/16 - 1/17/16

1/31/16 - 2/7/16

2/7/16 - 2/14/16

2/14/16 - 2/21/16

2/21/16 - 2/28/16

2/28/16 - 3/6/16

3/6/16 - 3/13/16

3/13/16 - 3/20/16

3/20/16 - 3/27/16

3/27/16 - 4/3/16

4/3/16 - 4/10/16

4/10/16 - 4/17/16

4/17/16 - 4/24/16

4/24/16 - 5/1/16

5/1/16 - 5/8/16

5/8/16 - 5/15/16

5/15/16 - 5/22/16

5/22/16 - 5/29/16

5/29/16 - 6/5/16

6/5/16 - 6/12/16

6/12/16 - 6/19/16

6/19/16 - 6/26/16

6/26/16 - 7/3/16

7/3/16 - 7/10/16

7/10/16 - 7/17/16

7/17/16 - 7/24/16

7/24/16 - 7/31/16

7/31/16 - 8/7/16

8/7/16 - 8/14/16

8/14/16 - 8/21/16

8/21/16 - 8/28/16

8/28/16 - 9/4/16

9/4/16 - 9/11/16

9/11/16 - 9/18/16

9/18/16 - 9/25/16

9/25/16 - 10/2/16

10/2/16 - 10/9/16

10/9/16 - 10/16/16

10/16/16 - 10/23/16

10/23/16 - 10/30/16

10/30/16 - 11/6/16

11/6/16 - 11/13/16

11/13/16 - 11/20/16

11/20/16 - 11/27/16

11/27/16 - 12/4/16

12/4/16 - 12/11/16

12/11/16 - 12/18/16

12/18/16 - 12/25/16

12/25/16 - 1/1/17

1/1/17 - 1/8/17

1/8/17 - 1/15/17

1/15/17 - 1/22/17

1/22/17 - 1/29/17

1/29/17 - 2/5/17

2/5/17 - 2/12/17

2/12/17 - 2/19/17

2/19/17 - 2/26/17

2/26/17 - 3/5/17

3/5/17 - 3/12/17

3/12/17 - 3/19/17

3/19/17 - 3/26/17

3/26/17 - 4/2/17

4/2/17 - 4/9/17

4/9/17 - 4/16/17

4/16/17 - 4/23/17

4/23/17 - 4/30/17

4/30/17 - 5/7/17

5/7/17 - 5/14/17

5/14/17 - 5/21/17

5/21/17 - 5/28/17

5/28/17 - 6/4/17

6/4/17 - 6/11/17

6/11/17 - 6/18/17

6/18/17 - 6/25/17

6/25/17 - 7/2/17

7/2/17 - 7/9/17

7/9/17 - 7/16/17

7/16/17 - 7/23/17

7/23/17 - 7/30/17

7/30/17 - 8/6/17

8/6/17 - 8/13/17

8/13/17 - 8/20/17

8/20/17 - 8/27/17

8/27/17 - 9/3/17

9/3/17 - 9/10/17

9/10/17 - 9/17/17

9/17/17 - 9/24/17

9/24/17 - 10/1/17

10/1/17 - 10/8/17

10/8/17 - 10/15/17

10/15/17 - 10/22/17

10/22/17 - 10/29/17

10/29/17 - 11/5/17

11/5/17 - 11/12/17

11/12/17 - 11/19/17

11/19/17 - 11/26/17

11/26/17 - 12/3/17

12/3/17 - 12/10/17

12/10/17 - 12/17/17

12/17/17 - 12/24/17

12/24/17 - 12/31/17

12/31/17 - 1/7/18

1/7/18 - 1/14/18

1/14/18 - 1/21/18

1/21/18 - 1/28/18

1/28/18 - 2/4/18

2/4/18 - 2/11/18

2/11/18 - 2/18/18

2/18/18 - 2/25/18

2/25/18 - 3/4/18

3/4/18 - 3/11/18

3/11/18 - 3/18/18

3/18/18 - 3/25/18

3/25/18 - 4/1/18

4/1/18 - 4/8/18

4/8/18 - 4/15/18

4/15/18 - 4/22/18

4/22/18 - 4/29/18

4/29/18 - 5/6/18

5/6/18 - 5/13/18

5/13/18 - 5/20/18

5/20/18 - 5/27/18

5/27/18 - 6/3/18

6/3/18 - 6/10/18

6/10/18 - 6/17/18

6/17/18 - 6/24/18

6/24/18 - 7/1/18

7/1/18 - 7/8/18

7/8/18 - 7/15/18

7/15/18 - 7/22/18

7/22/18 - 7/29/18

7/29/18 - 8/5/18

8/5/18 - 8/12/18

8/12/18 - 8/19/18

8/19/18 - 8/26/18

8/26/18 - 9/2/18

9/2/18 - 9/9/18

9/9/18 - 9/16/18

9/16/18 - 9/23/18

9/23/18 - 9/30/18

9/30/18 - 10/7/18

10/7/18 - 10/14/18

10/14/18 - 10/21/18

10/21/18 - 10/28/18

10/28/18 - 11/4/18

11/4/18 - 11/11/18

11/11/18 - 11/18/18

11/18/18 - 11/25/18

11/25/18 - 12/2/18

12/2/18 - 12/9/18

12/9/18 - 12/16/18

12/16/18 - 12/23/18

12/23/18 - 12/30/18

12/30/18 - 1/6/19

1/6/19 - 1/13/19

1/13/19 - 1/20/19