A DEEP OLIVE BRANCH TO CHRISTIERN

[Guest DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)]

CLASPS !!..TO ALL YOU DILDIES AND DILDSIE.

HEAT SEEKING MUFF MISSILE,

"ANAPONG" were little pills that were straight amphetamine.

They cost aboput 30 won (15 cents in US currency) and you got about 10 in a pack.

The only English on the packet was in very tiny print, "Mental Energizers".

I'm tellin' ya...for road marches and any kind of physical duty they were the shit.

We had a black tenor player whose last name was Harvey. He was from Texas.

Claimed he had worked some gigs with the Crusaders. He had arrived in Seoul (8th Army Band) and we hired him for a gig up in the Division. He showed up at the base and I immediately took him down to my crib in the village (Tongduchon).

He was not hip to "ANAPONG" so I laid a couple on him. He got to like them a little too much. After he returned to Seoul he went over the DEEP end. He freaked out. They had to send him back to the states. When I came back to the USA and mustered out of the Army I was having my old lady send the shit to me. By the time I went back as a civilian to retrieve my family two years later they had been made illegal. Man, they were the greatest.

DEEP

Edited January 11, 2004 by DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)

[patricia]

You're welcome.

Edited January 11, 2004 by patricia

[Guest DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)]

A few grammatical suggestions:

"metaphoric; still, but few are they"

Conn ( A Linguist),

I belive you misunderstood this sentence. The reference is to a "still" as in a distillery. We've changed it to "distillery" even though the meaning is different.

A "still" is illegal as opposed to a distillery. If you missed it then the average reader will miss it so "distillery" it is.

Thanks.

DEEP

[connoisseur series500]

A few grammatical suggestions:

"metaphoric; still, but few are they"

Conn ( A Linguist),

I belive you misunderstood this sentence. The reference is to a "still" as in a distillery. We've changed it to "distillery" even though the meaning is different.

A "still" is illegal as opposed to a distillery. If you missed it then the average reader will miss it so "distillery" it is.

Thanks.

DEEP

My bad, DEEP.

So sorry. My head is still in football right now.

Cancel my suggestion.

Patty: How about taking point next time???

[patricia]

A few grammatical suggestions:

"metaphoric; still, but few are they"

Conn ( A Linguist),

I belive you misunderstood this sentence. The reference is to a "still" as in a distillery. We've changed it to "distillery" even though the meaning is different.

A "still" is illegal as opposed to a distillery. If you missed it then the average reader will miss it so "distillery" it is.

Thanks.

DEEP

My bad, DEEP.

So sorry. My head is still in football right now.

Cancel my suggestion.

Patty: How about taking point next time???

You football fanatics!!

A formidable task, given the unique expressions and colourful discriptive phrases of the author.

I will if I'm given permission to do so by our thread-originator.

The missive is written in an interesting, conversational tone and style, so it is a challenge, to say the least, to proof, without destroying the piece' originality.

I'm tempted to rip out entire passages, but that's only because the thoughts are being expressed differently than I would express them. But, that's it's charm, if that's the word.

The corrections you've made, along with pointing out of flat-out wrong usage of particular words are realtively easy. The problem becomes how to do more, without turning the piece into your or mine, rather than Steve's thoughts.

Something to ponder.....

Edited January 12, 2004 by patricia

[connoisseur series500]

I think the DEEP ONE only wants his punctuation corrected, Patty.

No need to make any substantive changes. DEEP has his own style as you mentioned.

[Guest DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)]

I had dialogue with Groebenr tonight and he had chosen the work "impel" carefully as oppoced to "compel". It' been entirely changed now as have other words.

Here's the final draft and it's goin' out like this tomorrow.

Tension and release: the mechanism of life. Our hearts beat, our lungs breathe, blood flows and nourishes our bodies' other members. Distill and bottle this mystery and you've got music, most elemental of the arts. Many are the base, conflicting ingredients tried and tested in the metaphoric distillery, but few are they who humbly purvey Purified Disparate Spirits ...[ethereal theme UP]

It was a cold day in hell when Mr. Bigtime New York City Jazzcat insinuated himself into my life. Hell in 1966 was the U. S. Army at Camp Casey, South Korea. As conscripted volunteers in the Seventh Infantry Division Band, our only consolation was that we were temporarily exempt from that napalm-hot hell south of ol’ China down Vietnam way. Not only was there ice on our rice, but we were also subjected to the daily penances of digging ditches, moving rocks, cleaning latrines, polishing brass, cutting grass and painting everything that didn't move shades of gray. (Basic training indeed!). We regularly hauled concertina wire, large tents and small stoves to the field, set up bivouac among the honeypots (shitholes) and then commenced guard duty for several days at a time, four hours on, four hours off. After breaking it all down and hauling it back to Camp Casey, we relaxed by cleaning all those muddy tents and sooty little stoves. The oxymoron "martial music" and the attendant mickeymouse ceremonials were incidental to our mission. Officers to the left of us, sergeants to the right, our grim preoccupation was to keep a low profile and gut it out for thirteen months.

As Mr. Bigtime Staten Island First Army Band sauntered into the second hooch, our quonset-on-the-tundra, he took a long disdainful look around his new barracks and sniffed, "This is merely an inconvenience." Veteran inmates clamored vainly to disabuse him of his cool bravado, but he persisted. "They don't even know I'm here," he intoned.

I immediately hated the arrogant bastard.

Mr. Bigtime Exile, recently separated from fellow jazzcats Dave Liebman, Mike Garson, Donald Hahn, Steve Grossman and their ilk, had the supremely confident demeanor that typified--to the impressionable--New York City hipness. Sensing my alien vibe, he zeroed in.

I was entitled by seniority to inherit a coveted corner bunk near one door of the second hooch. The vacating occupant, a weasely (aren't they all?) clarinet player, was due to leave this hell for "the world." Mr. Bigtime Tipper slipped him a fin, preemptively buying my targeted living space. I sputtered my profane objections, but lost the battle. If I didn't adjust to the new regime, Mr. Toughman threatened, he'd work my mind over until I was talking to myself.

Like all new arrivals, Mr. Drumperious was quarantined during his first two weeks in Korea. However, this policy was oppressive to him, since he was impatient to sample Asian culture in the nearby village of Tongduchon (yeah, he wanted to get laid). He tried to convince, cajole or con everyone in the band to buy him a forged "slickie" pass on the black market. All stood firm against his entreaties, mindful of the serious disciplinary risks involved--all except me. I was the sucker who cracked just to shut up his New York whine.

Being pretty slick myself, I explicitly briefed Mr. Bigtime Horny on my infallible Plan B for returning to the post at curfew. We were to meet at the main gate a few minutes before midnight. In the event that word was passed back that the Military Police were collecting passes, legit or otherwise, for periodic scrutiny, he and I would dash to a different, little-used gate where the M. P.'s were known to be less meticulous.

Does it surprise you to learn that Spec. 4 Different Drummer didn't show before the final beat of the I2 o'clock blues? As always, he set his own tempo-- and took me down with him for the kicker.

In the morning our company commander, a defector from Castro's Cuba aptly named Candido, performed a conga riff on our sorry asses, then dismissed us. At that point I had to jab Pfc. Bigtime Pumpkin hard in the ribs as a reminder to execute a proper salute and about-face before marching out of Capt. Candido's office. (His civilian instinct was to just turn and split) As we headed back to the second hooch, I couldn't resist the delectable temptation to twist the blade.

"They know you're here now."

Thus a forced friendship was forged from our loss of rank, loss of pay and two weeks of extra duty. Settling into my embezzled crib, "D" campaigned in earnest to redeem himself and to convert his bandmates into disciples. He possessed an eclectic array of jazz tapes and the knowledge to explicate them. Every time he cranked up the box was a revelation. Charismatic and didactic, garrulous, querulous, gregarious and hilarious, he was the ideal leader of misfits. He corrected one guy who was snapping his fingers on one and three. Poppin' on two and four, the cat learned to swing. Prof. "D" elucidated the jazz argot, e.g. "hip" means perceptive, au courant (pardon my French, I'm paraphrasing here). Liberally lubricated by beer, pot and the then-legal Korean "mental energizer," Anapong, this son of a saloonkeeper extolled the affinity between a "taste" of intoxicant and "tasty" musical passages.

And in all seriousness, I'm here to testify that "D" was a mentor to the late tenor player (and pride of Washington, D. C.) Carter Jefferson. Young Pvt. Jefferson was talented but directionless. Under "D"'s tutelage, he found the path that led him, in his maturity, to the likes of Art Blakey and Woody Shaw. Rest in peace, Carter, you crazy little motherfucker.

Danny's generous spirit has shone throughout the many years I've known him. He got me a gig with the Glenn Miller Orchestra when he was a new hire himself. Later, he jumped that band in Japan to retrieve his Korean family--the twin sons he had himself helped deliver and their mother, his impish, constant wife, DuYeon. I met them at San Francisco International the exhausted day they all arrived to begin a better life. Danny had one dollar in his pocket and no job, but the beaming pride of a patriarch. We've laughed many times about the "mere inconvenience" of his Korean sojourns, but I've seen the satisfaction that he quietly enjoys whenever he can provide an opportunity for family, friend or fellow musician. Generous? Hell, he introduced me to my fifth wife, the only one of my ex's to pay me alimony!

I've related these "war" stories for two reasons.

1) To illustrate what I've come to know is characteristic and consistent of the man and the musician. Danny's traits are often tensely contradictory. He leads without leaning heavily; he plays with simultaneous ebullience and restraint; he celebrates tradition with eyes and ears open to innovation; he's loyal and fickle, duty-bound and footloose. He only plays music in the key of D-Bop: his cues invite you to blow, to stretch out if you like, but you must know and negotiate the changes, follow the form, speak the idiom, make a statement, Tuff. Love him or hate him, Danny is the most confoundedly self-effacing egomaniac I've ever met. Therefore, reason number- -

2) This is my sweet revenge.

I've witnessed the evolution of D-Bop's musical concept from his sextet at the duMaurier Jazz Festival in Toronto, 1993 and '95, through his small band of Bloviators and the initial Big Band Bloviation in upstate New York, to the present product. Peter Mack, the rhythm and business pilot of their collaboration by our acknowledged leader’s admission, has been a key player in the purification process. Look for new ingredients from these unlikely moonshiners on their next purveyance, Volume 3, in September, aught-four. Until then...

Purified Disparate Spirits abound; Imbibe those which are at hand... [ethereal theme FADE AND OUT]

Steve Groebner 7th Inf. Div. Band, 1966-67

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DEEP

Edited January 12, 2004 by DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)

[SGUD missile]

So ..

ANAPONG = Korean Black Mollies, hmmm

I remember on the old Claude Thornhill band.. driving across country in a car with the late Gene Quill ( on of my "road fathers" ) and a bunch other road rats gritting my teeth and making those ridiculous 600/700 overnight drives ..gulping those doozies, gritting my teeth ,and splitting the driving ..

it's lucky my chest didnt explode!

[patricia]

I think the DEEP ONE only wants his punctuation corrected, Patty.

No need to make any substantive changes.  DEEP has his own style as you mentioned.

That's what I thought too. Looks good. Go with it.

Edited January 12, 2004 by patricia

[Guest DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)]

Conn ( A linguist)

I know you're preoccupid with football and all that but I hope during your speed reading you realized that I didn't write the text in question. It was written by a guy who was in the Army Band with me.

Just wanted to clarify that.

I wanted you guys to screen his writing.

DEEP

[patricia]

Conn ( A linguist)

I know you're preoccupid with football and all that but I hope during your speed reading you realized that I didn't write the text in question. It was written by a guy who was in the Army Band with me.

Just wanted to clarify that.

I wanted you guys to screen his writing.

DEEP

I think that I made reference to that in my last post, or the one before.

I think that Conn knows that too, but the styles are quite similar.

All I can think is that your speech patterns are almost identical, but that is probably just a regional thing. The piece is certainly conversational. That's what makes it interesting.

It's a valentine, of sorts, written by Steve, about his longtime friend, you.

Edited January 12, 2004 by patricia

[connoisseur series500]

Conn ( A linguist)

I know you're preoccupid with football and all that but I hope during your speed reading you realized that I didn't write the text in question. It was written by a guy who was in the Army Band with me.

Just wanted to clarify that.

I wanted you guys to screen his writing.

DEEP

Pardon me DEEP, but I've got to direct something towards myself: DUH!!

I guess I thought you had written it. Anyway, no matter.

[Guest DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)]

If Christiern had answered the call from my initial post on this thread I wouldn't have been put through this hell.

I'll properly reprimand Christiern in person at the Nola Studio Christmas party next Monday night. Only problem is, I won't be "WET", consequently the reprimand will be slightly watered down.

Anyway, my work on this project is done. For those who had a hand in helping me along, please allow me to extend a Hearty Handclasp.....in short:

CLASP !!

I can now focus on the next project which will be recorded in September (hope you're putting pencil to paper, Missile).

DEEP

[patricia]

Conn ( A linguist)

I know you're preoccupid with football and all that but I hope during your speed reading you realized that I didn't write the text in question. It was written by a guy who was in the Army Band with me.

Just wanted to clarify that.

I wanted you guys to screen his writing.

DEEP

Pardon me DEEP, but I've got to direct something towards myself: DUH!!

I guess I thought you had written it. Anyway, no matter.

Conn,

An easy mistake to have made. As you say, no matter, but facinating, none the less.

They are two peas in a pod, liquistically. Wouldn't you like to be a fly on the wall, listening to a conversation between them?

I kept thinking, as I read, how language has always facinated me. Browsing through a dictionary is as delicious as being turned loose in a chocolate factory. So, I loved the notes.

Edited January 12, 2004 by patricia

[patricia]

Now that the polishing of the liner notes has been done and with them, the newest "Bloviation" offering is about to be released, I'm proud to introduce the next nicknamed musician, Glen "Spike" Gray.

Gray is probably better known as the saxophonist who masterminded the Casa Loma Orchestra. This group, put together in the late-twenties/early thirties, laid the groundwork for later successful swing kings such as Benny Goodman.

The Casa Loma orchestra was named for a hotel, which never, ever opened. The genesis of the band was the Orange Blossoms, which was an orchestra contracted to Jean Goldkette. The newly formed Casa Lomans were booked into New York's Roseland Ballroom by the Tommy Rockwell-Cork O'Keefe office in 1929.

While the band was playing at the Roseland, they were heard by Bob Stevens, who was an OKeh talent scout and he offered the band a recording contract.

The band built their sound up over the next few years [with a book written by guitarist, Gene Gifford]. The lineup included calrinettist, Clarence Hutchenrider, trombonist/singer, Pee Wee Hunt, a spectacular high-note trumpeter Sonny Dunham and also another singer, Kenny Sargent.

The best years for the Casa Lomans were between 1931 and 1935. This was the period during which they produced strings of records for three different labels, Victor, Brunswick and Decca. The band was broadcast on the Camel Cigarette programme as well as playing summers at the Glen Island Casino.

At the Casino, the band played music which combined sentimental favourites and swing specialties, such as "White Jazz", which was later covered by Lew Stone.

The Casa Loman's music became the anthem of a generation, surviving even the tremendous popularity of Benny Goodman's band.

By 1935, the Casa Loma Orchestra was resident at the Rainbow Room on top of New York City's Radio City Music Hall. Soon after, Gray took over fronting the band from violinist, Mel Jensson.

"Sun Valley Serenade" was a hit for the Casa Lomans, two months ahead of Glenn Miller's version, in 1939.

When the war came, in the forties, key line man, Dunham left to go out on his own and the draft took more. But, Gray replaced them with fine, young talent, like pianist, Lou Carter, guitarist, Herb Ellis and a singer, Eugenie Baird. This was in addition to tried-and-trusted players, such as cornettist, Red Nichols and Bobby Hackett.

Glen Gray retired from touring in 1950, but continued to record regularly with his orchestra until he died in 1963. The band, however, carried on, bringing in Jonah Jones, Conrad Gozzo, Si Zentner, Nick Fatool and the list goes on.

I have a couple of their LP's and my favourite is one called "Sounds of the Great Big Bands"

This is a collection of what amount to tributes to the Big Bands. I usually peer, gimlet-eyed at tribute albums, but this one is an exception. My favourite track is the Casa Loman's version of Erskine Hawkins' "After Hours", with Ray Sherman doing the original pianist, Avery Parrish, proud. Fabulous!!!

Among the personel on this album are Pete Candoli on trumpet, Ray Sherman, playing a terrific piano and one of the best drummers I've heard for a while, Nick Fatool, who does great work on Gene Krupa's "Symphony in Riffs".

Next............

Edited January 12, 2004 by patricia

[clinthopson]

I remember hearing Glen Gray's Casa Loma Orchestra records at a friend of the family's when I was about 11 yearsold. I loved them.

But listening to them now, I appreciate the musicianship and tightness of the band but Jimmy Lunceford sounds a helluva lot better.

[patricia]

Picky, picky, Clint. But, you're right. They were a great band and not given as much credit as they deserve, in my opinion.

I'm almost sorry that I am re-visiting the world of vinyl. The journey, and it's endless, is keeping me poor.

The covers are seductive and the sound is different than it is on CD. Maybe it's the little hisses and occasional clicks. The only drawback is that I had become spoiled by the hour or more of music on CD's, compared to the fifteen minutes or so, per side on an LP.

Edited January 12, 2004 by patricia

[SGUD missile]

I remember hearing Glen Gray's Casa Loma Orchestra records at a friend of the family's when I was about 11 yearsold. I loved them.

But listening to them now, I appreciate the musicianship and tightness of the band but Jimmy Lunceford sounds a helluva lot better.

Agreed ..

smae difference betwenn the Goodman and Chick Webb..

Chick blows Goodman away for finding the pocket

[Guest DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)]

RAY DeSIO........VERMONT !!

DEEP

[Harold_Z]

Bad news - Ray was a great player.

[patricia]

Bad news - Ray was a great player.

Harold, I'm not familiar at all with Ray DeSio, beyond that he was well-known around New York and played trombone with Louis Armstrong's All Stars as well as being a vocalist. Although I was able to discover that his career spanned over thirty years, not much else was available. He was also on the cover of Peggy Lee's "Basin Street East" album.

Could you tell us more about DeSio??

Edited January 13, 2004 by patricia

[Harold_Z]

Patricia, I had the good fortune of working with Ray on many occasions, both in the studio and in clubs. He was a nice guy and a lot of laughs. He would pop out with things like "I dig Sonny Stitts (sic)" and his delivery would crack me up.

At the time he was guitarist Ralph Casale's brother in law - he was married to Ralph's sister. Ralph was a prolific studio guitarist and is an excellent player. I was working with Ralph's combo (Kenny Drew Jr. was in that combo too and a great drummer named Connie Atkinson) and Ralph would add Ray to the group occasionally and give us some time to stretch out before the "commercial" sets. We always dug it when Ray was on the gig. He played great.

Deep mentioned to me about a year ago that he heard Ray was in ill health. Drag that he's gone.

Edited January 14, 2004 by Harold_Z

[patricia]

Thank you, Harold. I'm almost embarrassed that I knew almost nothing about DeSio, but he sounds like a great guy. I always appreciate a man with a sense of humour and joy in life.

A shame that he's gone.

One by one...... DAMN!

.........................................

But, speaking of trombonists, I thought I would mention Melba Liston, who would have been seventy-eight years old, tomorrow. Unfortunately, Vermont, April/99.

In any case, having studied trombone in highschool, she first played in a theatre pit band, led by Bardu Ali, a former frontman for Chick Webb. While working there, she wrote her first arrangements for that band. This was in the early forties. She went on to be a member of Gerald Wilson's big band in the mid-forties and later worked alongside Wilson in the Count Basie band.

I first became aware of Liston, because of my interest in the Gillespie bands, two of which Melba Liston was a member, one in 1950 and the other, from 1956-1957.

Then came a period in which she worked with her own all-women quintet in 1958, which played in New York, as well as in Bermuda. During those years, she began free-lance arranging.

In 1959-1961 she was one of two women members of Quincy Jones' touring band. The other "chickie" was Patti Bown, on piano.

After those experiences, Liston concentrated more on her writing and did wonderful work for Randy Weston, Johnny Griffin and Milt Jackson. She also did arrangements for singers, such as Tony Bennett and Diana Ross, as well as a lot of work for TV commercials.

Where she found the time, I don't know, but she also taught in Harlem and in Brooklyn in the late '60's as well as Watts in the early '70's and Jamaica in the late '70's.

Her teaching stopped when she moved back to New York in the early '80's and resumed full-time playing, following the second annual Kansas City Women's jazz festival in 1979.

She followed that by leading a seven-piece group, Melba Liston and Company.

Then, in 1985, Melba suffered a serious stroke and her activities were severely restricted, but luckily she was able to continue arranging, via computer software and resumed her writing relationship with Randy Weston.

Melba Liston was unusual in the forties, as a female trombonist, but her potential was undeniable. Though she was rarely featured, except on ballads, nobody questioned her talent as a musician.

I love the story about her first rehersal with the Gillespie band in 1950.

Apparently, she was asked to bring an arrangement and did.

As Liston recalled, "Of course, they got about two measures and fell out, and got all confused and stuff. And Dizzy said, 'NOW who's the bitch???' "

Next.......

Edited January 16, 2004 by patricia

[Guest DEEP (GET ME OUT OF MY SKULL)]

DeSio was living in Geneva, New York. His weight had been as high as 300 and he had a massive heart attack a while back but survied it. Lost 70 Lbs.

I guess his kidney's and heart finally gave out. I wish Marc Edsel Edelman would take heed re the weight. He's gonna have some serious problems in a few years if he doesn't....and a world without Marc Edsel Edelman is like a day without RAW CHICKEN.

DEEP

[patricia]

DeSio was living in Geneva, New York. His weight had been as high as 300 and he had a massive heart attack a while back but survied it. Lost 70 Lbs.

I guess his kidney's and heart finally gave out. I wish Marc Edsel Edelman would take heed re the weight. He's gonna have some serious problems in a few years if he doesn't....and a world without Marc Edsel Edelman is like a day without RAW CHICKEN.

DEEP

Indeed..

Maybe refer your friend, Marc, to the Misc. Non-political thread, right here on Organissimo. No two-week miracle diets, or magic. Just boring changes in eating habits and lifestyle.

Too late for Ray, but Marc can still turn it around and gain a few more healthy, productive years.

Edited January 14, 2004 by patricia