Kalo

Actually, I'm a fan of Giddins, too. I learned a lot from his writing over the years, especially when I was first getting into jazz. He's seemed to be less interesting to me in recent years, which could be because I know more and have more formed opinions now, or that he's lost some steam. Still, I plan to buy his latest book. The point I was making in my post was that he's rather diminutive physically, which surprised me, I suppose because he looks kind of patriarchal in his photos and I just expected him to be, ya know, larger. He was quite funny in person, too, though not in a clownish way. Still no comment on his shoes.

I vote for Breezin'. At least then Kenny G would be less likely to overdub his ass.

I saw this in person yesterday at Twisted Village, an almost painfully hip little record store in Harvard Square.

Art Tatum and Ben Webster! Good call, Red! What an amazing record! Those guys were so opposite in so many ways, yet each floridly romantic in his own way: Art with his rococo runs and Ben with that TONE. I'd have to say that this might be the record that tipped me over for BOTH of them.

I'll stick with Ellington.

I guess I didn't get it, either. If Henry Winkler is the yardstick of cool, then for jazz it would be... Dave Brubeck? (or Stan Kenton?)

Some serious food for thought, Larry, that Crouch's disordered prose reveals some insights into the nature of written communication itself.

Yeah, the original idea was limited edition reissues of titles that were of interest mainly to collectors, stuff that was previously unissued on (U.S.) CD. The new batch offers the Elmo Hope Blue Note and Pacific jazz sessions, which have already been available on two separate American reissues. So what gives?

By the way, did anyone else appreciate Ferrell's hilarious, accurate, and left-field take-off on jazz flute in his flick Anchorman? Some funny shit.

What about Maracas?

Rock 'n' Roll: The music that shoots its wad right pronto... Songs for swingin' premature ejaculators... It's not the meat, it's the motion... (It IS a teenage music, after all.) KEEP IT SHORT!

There IS something fascinating about this record; as though it's a little time tunnel into the era it represents. For one thing, it seems very un-mediated: there's little I can discern of Curtis Mayfield's shaping hand in the production. Thus, I assume, this is Huey and the Babysitters as nature intended. As I implied in a previous post: this is an invaluable document as to what a premier R&B band in a major metropolitan area sounded like at this pivotal point in history. As such, it's a keeper. Also, props to Huey for the Sam Cooke cover, "A Change is Gonna Come." Still not a "GREAT" album.

''...and so on, and so on, and dooby dooby dooby." Call Me "the Diplomat." Thanks Ed Swinnich. in return. I also note BFranks's notice of the missing names of the bandmembers. Does this mean, as I suspect, that the Babysitters (great name, BTW, given Huey's nom de funk), were, to Huey's mind, just a rotating aggregation of the best-available players on the Chi-town R&B scene? Just wondering. It's clear to me that the loyalty to individual players that such as Sly Stone had can add to the individuality and distinction of a band. Surely there were better trumpet players available to Sly Stone in the entire Bay Area than Cynthia Robinson. Yet not a one, I suspect, could have added to the elan of the Family Stone Band as Cynthia did, with her distinctive, shrill and raspy vocal responses to Sly's calls. I would have to say that I am a big fan of Cynthia, given the audible results. Give me some time with Huey and I may come to love the record. Still allergic to flute, however. Sorry about that.

I'd have to second Johnny E's qualified recommendation of Punch The Clock. I love that tune "Everyday I Write The Book." It's clearly a commercial compromise, but one that will undoubtedly outlive the commercial successes of its day. Rick Astley, anyone? As far as I'm concerned, Nick Lowe had the last word in his 1990 song "All Men Are Liars" : "Do you remember Rick Astley/He had a big fat hit /It was ghastly." Sheer poetry, not to mention trenchant social commentary. I Nick Lowe and I don't care who knows it.

GET HAPPY! (get happy...) get GET HAPPY! get happpyy? GGEETT HHAAPPYY!! g...h... No, really, GET GET HAPPY!

Intolerable? Lucinda Williams? Yeah, her voice is far from conventionally attractive, but a COSTELLO FAN finding her voice unattractive reeks of a double standard. Still, how we respond to individual voices is so personal that I'll give you the benefit of the doubt.

In the early '80s, as a callow collegian, I was first alerted to honky-tonk country as a result of reading interviews with Costello (though the Village Voice's rock critic Bob Christgau also pointed me in that direction). Even then, as an Elvis II idolator, I realized that E.C. was far from a thoroughly convincing incarnation of tears-in-my-beer country music. I say, skip Costello's Almost Blue (which, by the way, doesn't contain Costello's own song by that name), and move straight on to George Jones (unless you haven't investigated Hank Williams yet. If you haven't, do so immediately and then proceed). My first exposure to him was on some weird-ass movie tie-in record that I bought at a Massachussetts insurance salvage warehouse: The George Jones Story (Trolley Car Record and Filmworks). AND I LOVED IT. Another of those conversion experiences. He's one of those vocalists, like Aretha Franklin, Billie Holiday, or Maria Callas, who transcend their particular genre and speak to anyone with open ears. Highly recommended: George Jones--Cup Of Loneliness: The Classic Mercury Years (2 CDs--Mercury) George Jones--The Spirit Of Country (2 CDs--Country Classics--Epic/Legacy) There's a bit of overlap on these, but they're well worth owning, either or both. George Jones is an American Master; disregard him to your own peril. Venture forth from there. Don't miss Merle Haggard and, of course, Johnny Cash (who's more of a folk singer--if folk singers were actually GOOD). Early Moe Bandy is sort of a golden mean of honky-tonk, and don't miss Gary Stewart (Jerry Lee Lewis with a heapin' helpin' of guilt and remorse.) And a personal to Johnny Paycheck's The Real Mr. Heartache:The Little Darlin' Years (Country Music Foundation Records), which includes such honky-tonk classics without portfolio as "Don't Start Countin' On Me," "The Girl They Talk About," "He's In a Hurry (To Get Home To My Wife)," "(Pardon Me) I've Got Someone To Kill," and "Don't Monkey With Another Monkey's Monkey." Sheer honky-tonk heaven.

I started that other thread I mentioned, by the way. Good choice of Ellington's Paris Concert "John Tapscott" (or are you really him?) In that spirit I would elect Basie's Count Basie at Newport (Verve) which features a prime 'New Testamant" orchestra augmented by several definitive "Old Testament" guests: Jo Jones, Jimmy Rushing, and Lester Young. Young's contributions are pure Zen poetry.

Inspired by a previous thread (and perhaps redundant because of it). I'm not looking for your all-time pick by any particular artist, but instead the album that made you fall in love with a particular artist. The one that made you GET IT. Often it's the first record you heard that made the impression, whether it was the critically approved choice or not. Usually, this album remains a sentimental favorite. For instance, the first Monk I bought was the self-titled album on Columbia. But the record that hooked me into Monk forever was the relatively neglected solo outing on Vogue, recorded on June 7, 1954. These tracks have been reissued numerous times. The first I ever heard was on bargain-bin Everest Records when I was in college. The current version I own is the Mosaic LP. I still love this above all other solo Monk. It strikes a magnificent balance between the rhythmic momentum of his band sides and the rubato ruminations of his later solo stuff. In a way, to me, it's "pure" Monk. Distilled, direct, yet artfully elaborated; perfectly balancing the craggy and the liquid; magnificent in its canny improvisational expansion of his elemental compositions; startling in its idiosyncratic technical displays; ever eccentric and ever swinging; for me, the definitive encapsulation of his special amalgam of saloon piano, classic stride, and advanced harmony, spanning the centuries and predicting the jazz future. Essential, at least to me. This is where I truly GOT Monk, and I'll always love this record for that reason. THAT's what I'm looking for. THAT record. Others, for me, include the expected as well as the idiosyncratic: EXPECTED: Miles Davis: Kind of Blue (Columbia) Charles Mingus: Ah Um (Columbia) Sonny Clark: Cool Struttin' (Blue Note) IDIOSYNCRATIC: Steve Lacy: Troubles (Soul Note) Dexter Gordon: Dexter Blows Hot and Cool (Dootone) Sonny Rollins: Contemporary Alternate Takes (Contemporary) And I'm looking for details, folks. Not just a list, though those are welcome, but WHY you responded, just what it was that HOOKED YOU. I hope that this will be fun. Thanks in advance.

Great Choices, everybody. Amazing choices P.L.M! Nessa's choices are great, too, and he's one of the few who posted that could plausibly be familiar with the entire body of recordings from each artist. Lots of my all-time favorites are listed. Maybe it's the overly-nuanced, John Kerry-esque part of me saying this, but this is too hard. Yeah, there's some consensus choices (Hank Mobley--Soul Station for instance), but how can you choose one Monk album, let alone one Ellington? Or Stan Getz, Steve Lacy, Sun Ra, etc. Miles Davis's consensus pick would surely be Kind of Blue, but that represents just a fraction of his career. Even for Andrew Hill, with a far less extensive catalogue, it's hard to pick. I'd probably go with Point of Departure, but I notice that others have chosen Black Fire and even Judgement. Some might even pick Passing Ships. So I pass... but I'm tempted to start a thread called something like: Which Album Hooked You In? Which record did you fall in love with that made you want EVERYTHING by this artist?

It's funny. In the '50s and '60s ALL songs were short. It was extremely rare to find one exceeding the three-minute mark. Many hit songs barely broke the two-minute mark. All time classics from Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, Buddy Holly, The Stones, Beatles, Beach Boys, Motown. Then Dylan broke the floodgates with "Like a Rolling Stone," (which WAS a great record) and all hell broke loose, resulting in your Vanilla Fudge and In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida and the like. Costello, along with his punk/new-wave cohort, made their mark in the mid-1970s in large part by returning to the days of short and fast--and all the sweeter for it. Get Happy! is like the weather here in New England: if you don't like it, just wait a few minutes. Lots and lots of great stuff on it. Almost too much. But he hits an idea square on and then doesn't belabor it. Before you know it he's on to the next. One of my problems with Costello's later "rock" efforts is that the songs are too long. Where he once had his say in the classic three minutes (or less), his later efforts drag on and on, way past four, well into five, and often up to six minutes or more. Hey E! Just because you CAN fit 80+ minutes onto a CD doesn't mean you have to. Sometimes less is more, even a LOT more.

I got this from Dusty Groove a few months back, and I'm sorry to say that it's not a great album, in my opinion. Too much filler, and Huey's vocals, while charming, are frequently off pitch. It doesn't live up to the hype. However, as a document of a first-class journeyman R&B group from that era, it is a valuable recording. I'm kind of allergic to flute in this musical context, so factor that into the equation. All that being said, after my initial disappointment, I find myself putting it on occasionally and listening with enjoyment, having ratcheted my expectations down a few notches. And there's something loveable about Huey himself . Also, I totally understand why hip-hoppers have mined this baby for samples. Water's CD packaging is very nice, too, though I've never seen the original LP and can't say how much is a carryover from that. So, all that being said, if you absolutely love the genre, by all means go for this. If you're not up to speed on soul and funk, however, it's far from essential. Just one man's opinion.

Get Happy is actually a pretty good album, if suffering a bit from Nick Lowe's hit-and-run production (though I am a big Nick Lowe fan). Lots of nice numbers (my favorite is "opportunity," yours may not be). Though influenced by soul and Motown, Get Happy! sounds about as much like those genres as The Beatles did on Rubber Soul, which was VERY influenced by those then current pop sounds. Listen to it again if you doubt me. Still, they couldn't help but sound like The Beatles no matter what genre they drew from. Same with Costello, to a slightly lesser extent.

Trust is an underrated gem; actually one of his best, I think. Imperial Bedroom was a favorite, demonstrating Costello's mastery of the long melody line in a pop context. (His only rival in that regard would be Stevie Wonder.) Enjoy the journey. I was a huge fan for the first ten years or so and I still check in at times, but I find his later music to be less than essential. It's certainly impressive how he keeps exploring new genres, but he comes across as something of a dilletente in them; meanwhile, when he returns to aggressive rock on occasion, there's something a bit curdled about it, as well as a certain distance that seems to say that, surely, he's above this now. (I liked the Burt Bacharach collaboration, however--they seemed to inspire each other). I wouldn't count him out, though. He's clearly in this for the long haul, and look what Bob Dylan and Brian Wilson have done lately.

Ellington, I'd say. He was in a whole 'nother realm of cool, several levels beyond anyone else. The case has been made that Lester Young INVENTED cool.