The Mule

I've seen this at Tower and have almost picked it up. It's mostly solo trumpet, but there are a couple of cuts with trumpet and drums. Here's the AMG Entry. Anyone heard this?

A guy I know got one of these Nigerian scam letters about six months ago via e-mail and, just for giggles, strung the scammer along for MONTHS. He intially pretended it sounded like the financial opportunity of a lifetime and promised to give the guy his bank account number, but then made up these increasingly outrageous excuses as to why there was a delay in providing the scammer with the information. Then, at one point, he insisted on flying to Nigeria to meet the scammer and that was another hilarious exchange as the scammer kept making excuses why they couldn't meet. It just went on and on until the scammer got so frustrated he gave up. When it was all over, this guy printed out the scores of e-mails that flew between them and it is a HILARIOUS read. He should publish it. I got an e-mail recently telling me a distant relative I'd never heard of was killed in a car crash in Brazil and had left me his fortune which I could only claim if I provided my bank account number. That was a new one.

Every day. All day (unless I'm in a meeting). It's actually more difficult to listen to music at home what with the wife and kid and all...

You should check out the soundtrack to Eastwood's THE GAUNTLET. The music was composed by the late great Jerry Fielding (THE WILD BUNCH, STRAW DOGS), arranged by Lennie Niehaus, and Art Pepper and Jon Faddis are soloists on a few tracks. The music is better than the movie, actually...

As soon as I saw it I knew it would be worth sharing with the group. I know more than a few LA studio musicians myself and it's nice to see them get some recognition.

Once Upon A Session. Be sure to check out the accompanying articles on drummer Hal Blaine, bassist Carol Kaye, and reedman Plas Johnson...

Perhaps it's DIZZY ATMOSPHERE which was orginally on Specialty....

Billy and Charles A friendship in music by Greg Burk Charles Lloyd and Billy Higgins have a special connection. Listening to Which Way Is East is a strange experience. Uncomfortable, even. Here are two jazz all-timers, Charles Lloyd and Billy Higgins. They’re making the deepest music. But not for us. Not for anyone, really, except each other. And maybe for One Other that they serve. It’s like reading somebody’s love letters — these two CDs’ worth of duo performances weren’t originally intended for distribution. If we become their audience, though, we can realize that all art is in some way public. We feel the ripples, even if we never saw the pebble dropped. When this music happened, at Lloyd’s Montecito home in January 2001, Higgins was sick. He would die a few months later at age 64 of pneumonia, a final accumulation of the ailments traceable to the hepatitis he contracted while young, which necessitated a 1996 liver transplant. The operation could not restore him to full health, as he became diabetic and suffered from increasing weakness and pain. You wouldn’t know it from the way Higgins plays on Which Way, of course, just as you wouldn’t have known it if you’d seen his performances of immediately preceding years. “Once Billy got on the drum seat, there was a transformation. You could see it,” says Dorothy Darr, Lloyd’s mate and artistic partner, as well as the documenter of this unprecedented meeting. You hear a lot about musicians being filled by the spirit, but you rarely witness the actual process. Though Higgins was known as “smiling Billy,” he didn’t smile all the time, especially when he was hurting. In those last years, the smile came mainly when he focused on musical communion. Bent and slow-moving, he grew straight when he touched the drums — seemed almost to glow. Fantasy? Judge for yourself when Home, Darr’s just-completed film version of Which Way Is East, comes around. Having previously directed the 1996 Lloyd chronicle Memphis Is in Egypt, she’s gotten used to documenting the important events of Lloyd’s life, collecting thousands of hours of video footage. Most of the Lloyd photographs you see were taken by her. When there’s a new album in process, the two of them hash out the details of mixing and sequencing together — she says she and Lloyd deflect potential contention by playing casually serious pingpong while they talk it over. She’s involved in everything. So it was natural that when Higgins was invited to stay and jam for several days, Darr would throw up some recording equipment: two stationary cameras, which frequently ran out of tape because she wasn’t available to tend them, and a couple of microphones plugged into an old analog 2-track recorder. And nothing else was needed. Some musicians require months in the studio to make a statement; others just seem to breathe, and it’s there. One mood dominates the recordings: joy. The word play can ring trivial when applied to what serious musicians do, but here it’s appropriate. Lloyd and Higgins take full advantage to tumble over each other in the ultrafree sax-drums format — Lloyd sounding on tenor something like a more buoyant Coltrane, and on alto a little like a more spiritual Ornette Coleman. Those instruments are only the foundation: Both players pry into every corner of their multiple virtuosities, with some really vivid combinations resulting. Higgins gets inside your chest with the thick string overtones of his North African guimbri while Lloyd’s tenor dances around his partner’s un-Western scales, and they come to mind-stretching agreements somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic. On a low-pitched hand drum, Higgins sets up a way-down, resonant groove — dense enough to float a barge, and especially sensual in support of Lloyd’s Tibetan oboe and cave-dark bass flute. And showing sensitive discipline when Higgins knocks into a slapping snake-dance rhythm, Lloyd lays out simple sustains on taragato (like a wooden soprano sax) that turn the improvisation into a long, strong cobra. They’re a village of two. Each also goes it alone. Here’s where Higgins will really surprise you: He shows elevated intensity or casual flair on a number of stringed instruments while singing like a globetrotting troubadour, improvising words and even inventing plausible syllables to go along with the Brazilian and Arabic melodies that pour from his throat. When it’s time for some blues, the tradition is no museum installation to him — it lives as a spontaneous language. Sprinkled throughout are Lloyd’s solo piano meditations, which serve as snapshots of the torn and changeable state of mind in which he finds himself. A title affixed to one of them tells the whole story in brief: “Through Fields and Underground,” where you hear first morning dew, then plain mourning. Flipping quickly from beauty to dissonance to black depression, these selections rank with the most personal thoughts Lloyd has ever let us hear, which is saying something. As thrilled as he was by the golden time he was spending with his friend, he clearly knew it might be the last. The disc’s booklet mines some penetrating dialogue between the two. Lloyd: “Do you mean to tell me that you’re going to get up off the bed and come back to work on this with me?” Higgins: “I didn’t say I would be there, but I will always be with you.” Lloyd’s performances shortly after Higgins’ death bore this out: You could actually hear drums that were not on the stage. Though the compact disc’s full-length performances are treasures, the film documentary Home adds a number of dimensions: Darr’s poetic visual imagination; the charged atmosphere; the tones of the two voices; Higgins’ ecstatic smile. It’s not only a historical work, and not only a work of art; it’s a three-way work of love, and an enormously generous invitation, extended for the simple reason that Lloyd believes in the music’s power to heal and unite. So this is not entertainment. It’s an opportunity that’s unique in the correct sense of the word — not sort of unusual, but one of a kind. The friendship between Lloyd and Higgins had its gaps; the two had hardly seen each other in some 30 years when producer Milan Simich arranged a 1993 session for an album called Acoustic Masters I, packaging them alongside pianist Cedar Walton and bassist Buster Williams. “It was clear during the recording that Charles and Billy had a very special and direct connection,” says Darr. They did some concerts together in 1994 and 1995. Then, in 1996, Higgins got the liver transplant — two on the same day, actually, since the first one was a lemon. Lloyd made Canto while Higgins was recovering, and dedicated it to his friend. They contributed to Mark Isham’s soundtrack for the 1997 Alan Rudolph film Afterglow, and played three duo concerts that year, after which Higgins drummed on three successive Lloyd albums for ECM — Voice in the Night, The Water Is Wide and Hyperion With Higgins. In a career that has spanned half a century, Lloyd has created nothing more focused and inspiring than these. But Higgins’ health was slipping; he told Lloyd he was “running on spirit.” He’d been in and out of hospitals when he finally accepted Lloyd’s long-standing invitation to come up. In January 2001, the meeting came to pass. A few weeks later, Higgins was told he needed another liver transplant. That didn’t happen. A benefit for his medical expenses was held in Oakland on March 20. He went into Cedars-Sinai Medical Center (rather than the facility at UCLA, where he was a Jazz Studies Program faculty member) in March and April. He got pneumonia and was admitted to Inglewood’s Daniel Freeman Memorial Hospital. He died there on May 3, 2001. For Higgins, jazz was not only an expression, but an option and a ray of hope for youth. He talked it, and, as a teacher and an example among the people of his South Los Angeles community, he walked it. That’s one reason why, when you hear his sound, you feel something. Along with drummer Eric Harland and tabla master Zakir Hussain, Charles Lloyd will play concerts dedicated to Billy Higgins’ memory in the cities where they conducted their last duo concerts together: at the Palace of Fine Arts during the San Francisco Jazz Festival, April 3; at Seattle’s Town Hall, April 4; and at Santa Barbara’s Lobero Theater, May 23. He’ll also be at the jazz festival of Healdsburg, California, June 12. At each event there will be a screening of the documentary film Home and a photo display.

Best place to start is their first album, which was released in 1995: They did a very cool version of Pharoah Sanders' "The Creator Has A Master Plan" which got a lot of play on the radio and in clubs at the time.

My candidate for funniest line of the season thus far: Uncle Junior to Tony: "Make sure you form a seal when you close that freezer door!"

Good news! Congrats on the new gig. Sorry 'bout the commute, tho...

Seems like a metaphor for the split in America these days...flesh-eating zombies dethroning Jesus at the box office.

There are also these Konitz-Solal discs recorded in 1968 and recently reissued by CamJazz called EUROPEAN EPISODE and IMPRESSIVE ROME (alternate takes on two tunes from one disc appear on the other). Here's a link to the web site.

I've seen them a couple of times--last time at the Hollywood Bowl--and they've always been great!

From the LA Times: Chuck Niles, 76; Voice of L.A.'s Jazz Radio By Mitchell Landsberg Times Staff Writer March 17, 2004 Chuck Niles was the voice of jazz radio in Southern California for more than 40 years — and, some might say, its heart and soul. Niles, 76, died Monday night at Santa Monica—UCLA Medical Center of complications from a stroke. He had been on the air until Feb. 25, the day before he suffered the stroke, said Judy Jankowski, president and general manager of KKJZ-FM (88.1), the station where Niles had worked since 1990. He had undergone quintuple bypass surgery in July 2001. Jankowski said that Niles' importance to the station and jazz in Southern California was immeasurable. "He lived and breathed jazz and was a living jazz historian," she said Tuesday. "Chuck had the perfect deejay's attributes — a marvelously mellifluous voice, a great sense of pacing and an innate, cool dude manner," said jazz critic Don Heckman. "But what really made him special was his knowledge and respect for the music, his capacity to present it with the sort of rich communicative understanding that could only have come from someone who, like Chuck, was a musician himself." Niles spun tracks on a succession of jazz radio stations, beginning with the pioneering jazz station KNOB in Los Angeles and ending on KKJZ-FM in Long Beach. More than an announcer, he was a one—man jazz university, introducing the music and its lore to generations of Southern Californians. He also served as an unofficial jazz ambassador, emceeing countless concerts, memorials and other jazz—related events. A former colleague, Ken Borges, once called him "the Vin Scully, the Chick Hearn of jazz." A musician by training, Niles counted many of the jazz greats among his friends, and was the inspiration for several songs, including "Niles Blues" by Louie Bellson and "Be Bop Charlie" by Bob Florence. That song memorialized one of his several nicknames; he also was known as Carlito Niles when playing Latin jazz and Country Charlie Niles during a brief, unhappy stint on a country music station. Few people had less country in them than Chuck Niles. One of the few septuagenarians who could refer to someone as a "cat" without sounding foolish, Niles had a voice that seemed perfectly suited to jazz: a deep, smooth, lilting baritone burnished by a life of cigarette smoking and deployed as a virtual musical instrument. He brought an extraordinary depth of knowledge to his radio broadcasts, which he sprinkled with telling anecdotes, heartfelt tributes and lots of exclamations of "Oh, man!" He could be found many nights at one or more of his favorite jazz nightclubs, soaking up the music and hobnobbing with friends, and his frequent on—air plugs were credited with helping to keep the Southern California jazz club scene alive. Aside from music, his principal passion in life was acting, and his biggest regret was not having achieved greater success on stage or screen. He appeared in many local theatrical productions in the 1950s and '60s, and had a bit part in "Teenage Zombies," which was released in 1958 and eventually won cult status as one of the worst movies ever made. "I was just walking around like Frankenstein, that's all, no lines, just 'gluergugluergu,' and I'm pretty good at that," he recalled in an interview in 2001. The movie, he cheerfully conceded, "was just terrible." Niles was proud to have been awarded a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, although he might have preferred that it be adorned with a camera, not a microphone. Still, he took a journeyman's joy in his radio work and resented anyone who suggested that it was a fallback career. "My line is, 'All I need is my big fat mouth and a microphone,' " he said. "And in addition to that, my line is, 'And there's no heavy lifting.' And so when I say I go to work — that's work? I buy the best earphones, I'm down there . . . I'm enjoying myself! How lucky can you get? I'm not saying I didn't play the blues, because I have played some blues, but I'm still a very fortunate cat." Born Charles Neidel in Springfield, Mass., on June 24, 1927, he eventually adopted the name Niles because he got sick of people calling him "needle," rather than correctly pronouncing his name to rhyme with "idle." He kept Neidel as his legal name. Theater and music were part of his life from his earliest years. His father, a paper salesman, was an amateur actor in local productions. Niles took up clarinet at an early age and played his first paying gig on saxophone at age 15 —in a brothel. "As things went on and on, I started playing more often," he recalled. "I tell you, I was never out of work." In 1945, with World War II nearly over, Niles enlisted in the Navy. The war ended while he was still in basic training in Florida. Niles was sent to San Diego and briefly stationed in the South Pacific. Though largely uneventful, his stint in the military produced some indelible memories. Years later, Niles would recall hitchhiking from San Diego to Hollywood to catch a concert at the Hollywood Palladium, and searching the radio dial for the first sounds of jazz as his ship approached New York Harbor at the end of his service. He even remembered the song that was playing: "Symphony," by Benny Goodman and His Orchestra. After the Navy, Niles returned to music full time, playing alto sax in a jazz band, the Emanon Quartet — "no name" spelled backward. "How hip can you get?" he later mused. They were hip, in Niles' recounting. They wore the hippest clothes: white shirts, pegged pants, blue suede shoes and blue cardigans. They played the hippest music: bebop, which was then revolutionizing the jazz world. Jazz styles would come and go over the next half century, but Niles stayed forever true to the straight—ahead jazz of his youth. Back in Springfield, Niles earned a bachelor's degree in sociology from American International University and, in 1951, landed a job playing music on a local radio station, WTXL. By 1953, growing bored, he drove to Los Angeles. Failing to find work, he drove on to West Palm Beach, Fla., where he quickly found a job on radio station WMVD. He stayed there a year, then did a stint as a television sportscaster and dance show host before another bout of restlessness sent him back to California. It was 1956. This time, he would stay. His first job was on KFOX radio, playing rock 'n' roll—tinged pop that wasn't exactly his style. Next came KHJ-TV Channel 9, where he hosted afternoon movies and the "Strange Lands and Seven Seas" program — "You know . . . some guy goes to Africa, films a herd of elephants, comes back and tells me about it." But his real break came in 1957, when Sleepy Stein recruited him to be an announcer on what claimed to be the first all — jazz radio station in the United States: KNOB, "the jazz knob." (Jazz historian Dan Morgenstern, head of the Institute of Jazz Studies at Rutgers University, said the claim is probably true, but difficult to verify.) Niles stayed there eight years, honing his craft and creating a close bond with the Southern California jazz community. In the meantime, he was pursuing acting jobs and hanging out at the Master's Club, a theatrical club in Hollywood where, he said, he spent "the happiest times of my life." Niles landed roles in regional theatrical productions of "Harvey" and "Dial M for Murder," among others, and played Biff in a summer stock production of "Death of a Salesman." He married in 1964, and though he and his wife, Nancy Neidel, eventually separated, they never divorced and remained on friendly terms. Daughter Tracy Neidel inherited her father's love of music, becoming a pop and blues singer who uses the stage name Tracy Niles. In 1965, Niles left KNOB for KBCA, another all-jazz station that changed its call letters to KKGO in 1979. KKGO switched to classical music in 1990, and Niles left immediately for KLON-FM, the station of Cal State Long Beach, which had an all-jazz format. The station changed its name to KKJZ in August 2002. There, Niles continued to play the music that he loved, introducing Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Dexter Gordon, Horace Silver, Count Basie, Ella Fitzgerald, Lionel Hampton and hundreds of other jazz luminaries to yet another generation. A public memorial service for Niles will be held at 10:30 a.m. Saturday at Church of the Hills, Forest Lawn Hollywood, 6300 Forest Lawn Drive.

Did a Google search on Old Style and found a kindred spirit:

Yes, indeed. My dad owned a '67 Cougar and I loved that car. He also owned a '75 Firebird Esprit which became my first car. He sold it to me for FULL Blue Book value! (No free rides in my family, baby). I loved that Firebird and, when I'm feeling real flush, may find me a restored one...

Happy Birthday! Maybe you should ask for one of these as a gift....

Grew up in Chicago getting smashed on Old Style and I still have a soft-spot for that swill. My great-uncles--big beer drinkers they--drank case after case after case of Hamm's--which has got to be one of the worst-tasting, skankiest beers I've ever had. Not that I'm drinking much beer at all these days, but when I do--and when I drink the cheap American stuff--it's usually Bud or Rolling Rock. btw, in my youth we spent hours drunkenly staring at the artwork on the Old Style cans and would analyze all the tiny drawings. Can you find the frog on the stump?

From The LA Times: Group Races to Save the Cradles of Jazz Buildings represent history of music, and black communities By Scott Gold Times Staff Writer March 15, 2004 ALGIERS, La. — In a wooden cottage across the Mississippi River from New Orleans, Annie Avery peered outside — which wasn't hard to do, since the front door was missing — and scowled at the sky. "Looks like rain," she said. This was not idle conversation, but practical observation. Because if it rained out there, it was going to rain in here, right through the holes in the roof. The thin walls were made of planks patched with cardboard and etched with rambling tunnels left by termites. The yard was littered with trash: a muddy doll, a blackened kettle, a faded fedora pocked with almost as many holes as the roof. In this hovel, Avery, the director of an African American heritage program, hears a beautiful song. The sound is big and brassy, syncopated and swinging, and it made New Orleans the cradle of jazz. Avery believes the sound is the soul of New Orleans, her beloved hometown. And she is out to save it, one dilapidated building at a time. In a campaign long on ambition and short on funding, music aficionados and historians have targeted for preservation nearly 2,000 New Orleans-area buildings connected to the birth of jazz — from the childhood homes of its pioneers to the mammoth halls where they performed. By poring over old phone books and dusty property records, through word of mouth and even the stubs of timeworn rent checks, researchers and historians have identified more than 600 homes and 1,300 performance halls linked to the early days of jazz, said Jack Stewart, a New Orleans resident who owns a home restoration company and is a jazz historian leading the project. Many more buildings are expected to be identified in coming months. "We haven't even scratched the surface," he said. There is the old men's gymnasium on the campus of Tulane University, now used by an ROTC program, where Joe "King" Oliver thrilled the first generation of jazz fans before triumphantly marching on to Chicago. There is the shotgun-style house off Jackson Avenue where cab driver Johnny Dodds lived as a boy, taught himself clarinet and created an emotional, bluesy style later adapted by Benny Goodman and Artie Shaw. And there is this house in Algiers — long abandoned, 15 feet wide and 35 feet long, tucked into a forgotten corner of the New Orleans area. Almost 90 years ago, Henry "Red" Allen, a trumpet prodigy who torched a dizzying and innovative path through the jazz world for five decades before dying in 1967, was born here. On this afternoon, a stray, pregnant dog strolled down the middle of the narrow street. Three men stood on the corner, sipping silently from tall beer cans sleeved in brown paper bags. On an abandoned lot next door, several cars rested on weed-covered blocks, their tires removed, mostly likely for good. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" said Avery of the nonprofit Preservation Resource Center, which promotes the protection of New Orleans-area neighborhoods and architecture. She stepped onto the porch gingerly, partly because of a bad knee, but also because sections of the floor bowed under the slightest weight. Contractors buzzed around, some on ladders assessing the home's tired crossbeams, some on their knees working on its gnarled floor. "Give me a few months," she said. "You won't recognize the place." The Allen house is the second project undertaken by the preservation center, following an effort that resulted in the purchase and refurbishment of the boyhood home of trombonist Edward "Kid" Ory, a member of one of the first African American jazz bands to record professionally. The group recently bought the Allen home for $6,000 from a government agency that had slated it for demolition, Avery said. Like most of the properties targeted for preservation, the Allen home will not be taken off the real estate rolls after it's fixed up. It will be sold on the open market, probably for between $90,000 and $100,000, Avery said. Working with the New Orleans Jazz Commission, an advisory arm of the National Park Service, the Preservation Resource Center plans to mark the Allen home with a plaque explaining the musician's influence on jazz. Organizers hope for dozens of similar plaques, which would be used to lead visitors on a tour of jazz history. The group's board also is trying to devise a contract that will require buyers of the refurbished properties to meet certain standards of upkeep, maintain plaques for visitors and consult with the preservationists before reselling. The resource center hopes to cobble together money for its program through a combination of government grants, bank loans and donations. Any profit earned from the Allen house would go toward buying future properties the organization wants to preserve. If the Ory project is any measure, however, the group will be lucky to see a profit once it finishes paying for a complete overhaul. Avery estimates that the Preservation Resource Center lost $56,000 fixing up the Ory home, despite buying it for $3,000 from a private owner and selling it to two New Orleans men for $99,000. Even though most of the properties targeted by the program are in better shape than the Ory and Allen houses, people behind the project say they are struggling to finance a long-term strategy for preservation. In many cases, they are already too late. Among the significant New Orleans buildings that have been lost to time and development are the boyhood home of Louis Armstrong, the region's most famous and influential jazz musician. Armstrong's home on Jane Alley is now part of the parking lot of a government building where people go to pay parking tickets. "If we don't do something, the memories, the history, the spirits that are in these places will be gone forever," Avery said. "Everybody says there is no money, but it's out there somewhere. It has to be." Organizers think the program may eventually increase property values in poor neighborhoods, but they also believe much of the program's lasting value may lie elsewhere. New Orleans is a bacchanalian pleasure zone, something that is most evident during its annual Carnival season, which ends with the celebration of Mardi Gras. Many longtime residents believe these two agendas — preservation and partying — are often at odds, competing for time, energy and money. "A lot of people in the tourism industry have become aware of how important cultural history can be," said Steve Teeter, curator of the jazz collection at the Louisiana State Museum. Avery also sees the program as a way of bringing together generations of African Americans, who account for more than two-thirds of New Orleans' 475,000 or so residents. That majority status can be linked directly to the turn of the century — when brass orchestras and marching bands were starting to give way to more exploratory jazz, and when New Orleans and surrounding communities like Algiers were a cosmopolitan, cultural capital for Southern blacks. With that history comes responsibility, Avery said. And she believes younger generations in the area — particularly young jazz musicians — have forgotten those roots. "It's easy to forget who came before you," she said. "Musicians go out today and might earn a thousand bucks for a gig. These guys back then, men like Red Allen, they made two or three bucks. Musicians today can play anywhere they want. Back then, musicians couldn't play a lot of white clubs. Today, they can walk right through the front door for a gig. Back then, they had to walk through the back door." Avery, a grandmother of seven, will not say how old she is. Old enough, she says, that when she was a girl, the school erected a dark screen on the bus, so the white kids wouldn't have to look at her each morning. Now she lives in New Orleans' historic Seventh Ward, which served as an early laboratory of jazz when Creole musicians, many of them classically trained in Europe, began playing with African Americans, some of them freed slaves. That is an example, many here believe, of how the histories of jazz and New Orleans' black communities are intertwined. "I thank God that we've come so far," Avery said. "But people paid a hard price to get here. We must remember that."

Hot and strong and black and lots of it.

Not sure if I should have posted this here or in the "Misc. Non-Political" thread, but I thought I'd give everybody a heads up on this: The just-released DVD of Michaelangelo Antonioni's classic 60s film BLOW UP has a bonus feature which isolates Herbie Hancock's great score on a music-only track!

I also picked up this compilation three years ago when I was in London: Joe Harriott Genius -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Joe Harriott / Michael Garrick Jazz Academy, 2000 CD £11.99 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Joe Harriott Quintet with Joe Harriott (sax); Les Condon (tr); Pat Smythe (piano); Coleridge Goode (bass); Phil Seamen (drums). [1] Moanin' [2] Round About Midnight [3] Joe Explains Freeform : Coda [4] Tempo Joe Harriott with William Haig-Joyce (piano). ADDED to tracks 6 & 9: Coleridge Goode (bass) [5] Confirmation [6] Love For Sale [7] The Song Is You [8] How Deep Is The Ocean? [9] Body And Soul Michael Garrick Septet with Michael Garrick (piano); Joe Harriott (alto sax); Ian Carr (tr); Tony Coe, Don Rendell (tenor sax); Dave Green (bass); Trevor Tomkins (drums). [10] Shiva Michael Garrick Quintet with Michael Garrick (piano); Joe Harriott (alto sax); Shake Keane (tr); Johnny Taylor (bass); Alan (Buzz) Green (drums). [11] Calypso Sketches PLAYING TIME : 73:04 The sessions are dated 1961 and 1963. I'd not seen this cd before I ran across it at Mole's and I haven't seen it since. Does anyone else have this or know anything about it?

Anybody know this album? I've never seen it before or even heard of it. There seems to be a limited edition cd for sale on EBay: http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewI...5&category=1056