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What vinyl are you spinning right now??


wolff

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http://www.nwasianweekly.com/2015/02/memory-ticiang-diangson-legacy-environmental-justice/

A renaissance woman, Diangson was a world traveler, an avid reader, a lifelong writer of poetry and fiction, a cartoonist, a crackerjack Scrabble player, and a skilled amateur jazz singer.

Did she sing when you knew her?

Not in public, though she had a nice airy voice, kind of in the Chris Connor mold, and she certainly was a jazz fan.

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Erroll+Garner+-+Magician+-+LP+RECORD-361

So, see, here's the deal - there was a parallel universe somewhere where Nipsey Russell became a piano playing sock puppet whose face and overall esthetic was really controlled by Joanne Castle. But what not everybody knows is that Joanne Castle herself was actually a sock puppet controlled by Thelonious Monk as an off-the-books source of income as a way to say "thank you" to Nellie, Monk let Joanne Castle run the face and most of the playing (she had a better feel for what a piano-playing Nipsey Russell sock puppet should both sound and look like than you might think, but that you wouldn't think that is exactly why - and how - it worked)), but every so often, every so often, Monk would stop by the office, check the books, walk out with a smile, a grin, and a little bit of hand up all their asses (and by extension, piano- fingers) just to give the world (the part of it who was listening, anyway) a clue what the REAL deal was. Everybody was delighted, everybody got paid, those in on the joke hard to tell part from those who weren't.

Meanwhile, in the rest of the marketplace, Oscar Peterson checked to see who had a hand up HIS ass, and finding nothing but that same old stick, snorted a quiet indignity of relief, sweat a little bit more and resumed playing more notes than the time before, Ramsey Lewis looked on in equal parts approval and envy, Ahmad Jamal laughed his ass off (very quietly, and strictly on the inside), and Andre Previn said fuck it, I'm gonna go conduct now.

That's in the parallel universe. In the real world, the one with chronology and stuff, take AMG's word for it: http://www.allmusic.com/album/magician-mw0000872527

Whether you find this on CD or vinyl, Magician is one of those efforts that has to be included in any eclectic collection.

Or if you're one of those non-visual learning types, play this clip and stop it a 0:07 exactly.

And then, continue.

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A simple record, Eckstine sings with a trio, Carter takes a chorus and plays some obbligatos, Helen Merrill sits in for the first and the last tunes of the album, lather rinse repeat, except that Billy Eckstine's voice is deeper and richer than ever...there is a gravitas here that I suspect one either gets or doesn't get, put me down as one who does. I find Eckstine's one of the more interesting careers in terms of American sociology, and the records he made after the "bubble burst", when it became apparent that the whole "Sepia Sinatra" thing had a built-in ending, although a very mixed lot, are never without a certain masculinity that, while not "defiant" in any particularly overt way, can surely be heard as resilient within a context where pathetic, trivial, or outright tragic could easily have been both expected and ripe for the picking opportunistic.

I think this record kinda came and went (no thanks to the cover, which with its design goes out of its way to invite inattention), 1986, Billy Eckstine, yeah, he had that big band with Dizzy and Bird, but...copies are still around, I think, and if it remains easy enough to sleep on (or through)...just sayin' - gravitas in the face of American marginalization, not a footnote,. If anything, a freakin' monument, a quiet, nearly invisible monument that you don't see until you see it, and then...damn.

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aka Hamba Khale, apparently not an original Alan Bates production, but one which he seems to have obtained at some point...I do not pretend to understand all the routes this one has taken since 1968.

I do understand, though, why it's not on anybody's "top" list, but I don't understand why it also seems to be relegated to the Secondary Bin Of Shoulder-Shrugging Curiosities either...there's more to it than that, as both document and music. For one thing, I don't know that Barbieri has ever been more recorded more clearly/cleanly, ever. That matters to me, because from a saxophonistical standpoint, his post-Pharoah techniques are a joy to hear in this much detail. The usual dismissals of "just biting the reed and squealing" have never been accurate, and if you're of a mind to, you can hear very clearly the exact techniques being used. But that's secondary (at best) to what matters here, fine, passionate playing, very fluent, very substantive, just a reminder that there was a time when Gato was playing like that.

This is in no way Ibrahim's Most Transcendent Moment, or anything like that, but he brings his usual focus/purpose to the session, and that is never anything less than a plus. Also a treat to hear him on cello.

I got really lucky with the pressing on this one. HEAVY vinyl, and the pork steak I had broiling in the oven was the only real popping I heard on either side.

Of all the initial Arista/Freedom releases that went pretty quickly to the cutout bins, this is the one that seemed to stay there the longest and end up the cheapest, stickers pasted over it until it got to the 3/$1.00 point...which is sad, but understandable too, most "jazz fans" of the time either turning up their nose at Gato Barbieri altogether, or not looking for Gato Barbieri in the cutout bins with an album cover like that on a label like that.

Not nearly a case of attention MUST be paid, but definitely a case of attention paid will be returned at a net profit, for sure.

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One of the most "imperfect" "perfect" jazz records, ever, imo, especially as people go from being live bodies to dead bodies to lingering spirits who are imaginary only if you don't hear them (and/or how necessary the Rhodes was for times/places like this, REJOICE IN THE RHODES!!!!).

Blessed are they who portray the inexact fingers and the wavery embouchure in the service of the lines with consistently perfect time, shape, and dimension, for theirs shall be the Kingdom Of Jazz. All others, verily, risk sitting at the WRONG hand of God.

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Confluence_I.jpg

aka Hamba Khale, apparently not an original Alan Bates production, but one which he seems to have obtained at some point...I do not pretend to understand all the routes this one has taken since 1968.

I do understand, though, why it's not on anybody's "top" list, but I don't understand why it also seems to be relegated to the Secondary Bin Of Shoulder-Shrugging Curiosities either...there's more to it than that, as both document and music. For one thing, I don't know that Barbieri has ever been more recorded more clearly/cleanly, ever. That matters to me, because from a saxophonistical standpoint, his post-Pharoah techniques are a joy to hear in this much detail. The usual dismissals of "just biting the reed and squealing" have never been accurate, and if you're of a mind to, you can hear very clearly the exact techniques being used. But that's secondary (at best) to what matters here, fine, passionate playing, very fluent, very substantive, just a reminder that there was a time when Gato was playing like that.

This is in no way Ibrahim's Most Transcendent Moment, or anything like that, but he brings his usual focus/purpose to the session, and that is never anything less than a plus. Also a treat to hear him on cello.

I got really lucky with the pressing on this one. HEAVY vinyl, and the pork steak I had broiling in the oven was the only real popping I heard on either side.

Of all the initial Arista/Freedom releases that went pretty quickly to the cutout bins, this is the one that seemed to stay there the longest and end up the cheapest, stickers pasted over it until it got to the 3/$1.00 point...which is sad, but understandable too, most "jazz fans" of the time either turning up their nose at Gato Barbieri altogether, or not looking for Gato Barbieri in the cutout bins with an album cover like that on a label like that.

Not nearly a case of attention MUST be paid, but definitely a case of attention paid will be returned at a net profit, for sure.

Always been a big fav of mine, for whatever that's worth...isn't that the one where the liner notes quote Gato to the efect "I don't scream for the same reasons Pharogh Sanders screams"?

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One of the most "imperfect" "perfect" jazz records, ever, imo, especially as people go from being live bodies to dead bodies to lingering spirits who are imaginary only if you don't hear them (and/or how necessary the Rhodes was for times/places like this, REJOICE IN THE RHODES!!!!).

Blessed are they who portray the inexact fingers and the wavery embouchure in the service of the lines with consistently perfect time, shape, and dimension, for theirs shall be the Kingdom Of Jazz. All others, verily, risk sitting at the WRONG hand of God.

Thanks for that. He was a friend.

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Earlier:

Steve Grossman "jazz a confronto" (Horo, Italy). A Brazilian tinged quintet date that starts out merely pleasant but by the time side two was near its end I was wanting more! This might be a "grower".

Various "Ossiach Live" 3LP (BASF, Germany) a very patchy and uneven set but definitely some jewels amongst the rough. Some nice John Surman/Trio, a side long George Gruntz track, Weather Report, Anima Sound, and some Tangerine Dream too even. Had my eye on this set for nearly 20 years and only recently took the plunge on a nice copy for only $30.

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I had fears of some really over-dramatic emo kitsch, but no. Some of the settings...predictably "bourgeois ", but the readings themselves are contently strong & compelling (and the source material impeccable) in an of course Sidney Poitier type way (I find some interesting parallels in his cadences and William Shatner's, but to completely different ends). So, yeah, very..."that", but also must be considered as part of the same spectrum as something like Celebrations & Solitudes, not something apart from it.

Apart from that...some interesting things found in the liner notes of the 1969 UA (still using the orange and pink lables) release - Specs Powell on broad as drummer, percussionist, and pianist, Bob Porter as assistant engineer, and - liner notes by George Butler, Ph.D. as well as Album Coordinator: Dr. George Butler. So - One Degree of Sidney Poitier to Elvin Jones, Grant Green, Bobbi Humphrey, and Black Byrd.

Also in the liner notes, this:

American black people remember Paul Laurence Dunbar largely for poems and monologues such as LIZA; THE PARTY; and the three dialect poems included in this album. They have long been favorite repertory items of the "dramatic-reader" at church socials and teas.

Jeeezus, I had completely forgotten about "dramatic readers", church socials and teas, all of that. Hard Core Bourgeois, to be sure, but also - oral tradition keeping ideas and attitudes fresh in people's minds past and stronger than the written page itself, reference points for later decision making either on or around The Corner as well as in The Real World., and keep that in mind when pondering that "jazz" brings that part of life to it as well, aka Duke's line about New Orleans had more churches that whore houses.

Anyway...hearing Poitier & Doris Belack (an interesting choice) trade verses on "When Malinda Sings" (or as the album's track list calls it, "When Melinda Sings", it's a good thing.

But HOLY SHIT, this album was originally released in 1955?!?!?!?!?!

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sooo....WTF? UA picked this 1955 indie release up, changed "Negro" to "Black" and...did what? Overdubbed the music" Dr. George Butler acts like this is a new release?

wow.


FUCK - I see now that George Butler took Lorraine Hansberry's liner notes, parsed them down a little bit but otherwise quoted them verbatim - and put his name on them.

Did this motherfucker have NO shame?

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Interesting post-hardbop originals that reach more towards Bill Barron than Cedar Walton in terms of harmonies & structures, James Clay and other local heroes and flavors, including one weird ass engineering/mixing/whatever that does none of it any favors. But Roger is still alive and playing today, still a beautiful and proactive thinker and conversationalist. Long may he wave.

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Still not that much of a Carmen mcRae fan, but arrangers include Gerald Wilson, Thad Jones, Johnny Mandel, and....some people who are not them. Saw this for 4 bucks about 5 years ago, and said, eh, ok, buy now, listen later,. Later was today.

Tell you what, for the first four songs of Side One, I was thinking about re-examining Carmen McRae. A wholly characteristic Gerald Wilson chart on "Can't Hide Love" with wildly inappropriate piccolo trills on the fade, double-tracked vocals, and Carmen's sounding like she's loving all of it (and besides, that's one of the greatest songs of its era, period). Then a freakin GORGEOUS reading of Cole Porter's (or so says the record...) "The Man I Love", Mandel presaging his transcendent work with Shirley Horn of decades later, Carmen sings the verse, you get to hear that uber-rare Harvey Mason/Joe Mondragon hookup, damn, this one is for all time, then "Only Women Bleed", and yeah, I know, but Carmen is really leaning into the lyrics, so hey, and finally, a batshit crazy, a batshit fucking crazy Thad Jones chart on Bill Withers' "I Wish You Well" that just has me LOL-ing WAY loud by the time it's over, and then I'm like, yeah, this is gonna be alright after all.

And then - "All By Myself". Nothing can save "All By Myself", that thing was death, is death, will ALWAYS be death, fuck you Eric Carmen, and fuck you People Of Earth for enabling that shit, too late now, but y'all going to hell by yourownselves on this one, not me, uh-uh.

So that was Side One, and Side Two did not recover. The chances were there, but, too bad, most everybody's dead now, no taking it back even if they wanted to (and they really should have). So, four bucks for four songs and two real keepers. I feel neither cheated nor rewarded, not particularly. In another 10-15 years when I get this one back out, I'll know where to start and when to stop, time not totally wasted, although pretty damn close.

But - here, this one's on me.

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