Christiern

It is good that you found the interviews "illuminating," but that light did not emanate from a halo. That Ken Burns' bullshit isn't limited to his formulaic film work s something that became obvious many years ago, even before he rewrote the history of jazz.

The pontoons beneath the bridge were on fire. From what I understand, they were able to prevent total damage to the bridge (i.e. all the tracks) so operation was near normal by the end of the day. It looked bad, however, and one never knows, these days!

So is the general consensus in the jazz community that he is a phony? He seems genuine enough in the interview that I linked to. The "jazz community" is much larger and more diverse than just those who post here. There are many, including myself, who enjoyed the series - who were greatly appreciative of the many clips provided, and also got a lot out of the talking head interviews (including Wynton's - turns out he's a much better teacher than composer or bandleader). Ultimately, the series is a good resource. Most posters here are simply encouraging you to watch the series and form your own opinion. Don't mean to insult, but ignorance is, indeed, often bliss. It is said that one brief visit to a sausage factory might forever keep that product off one's menu.

Sounds like you need to stop hanging out in tool bars!

I just took this photo from my window. It is a railroad bridge at 138th Street, on the Metro North line—not the bridge itself, but wood under it. Traffic has been suspended, commuters will not be happy.

Thanks, Chuck.

I have added to my blog Ruby Walker's taped account of the 1928 party she, Bessie and Porter Grainger attended at the Carl Van Vechten residence. You may have read the account in my book, but nothing can beat Ruby telling the story in her own words.

The BBC website used to reduce text to a series of independent sentences that cried out for being parts of paragraphs. It was ridiculous. Dumbing down is in and of itself dumb, imho. As for reading sizable chunks of text off the screen, I agree that it may well be too much for the eyes, but there is a very simple solution, and it is one that does not come with a printed text: Have your computer read it to you. There was a time when computer talk was unbearable, but my Mac now has a number of remarkably human-like voices. I guess the PCs have them, too—if not, just wait a couple of years, Windows eventually catches up!

Thank you, that's exactly what it was, and how appropriate for Moondog to be on Mars!

The first time I became aware of Moondog was when I saw an EP in a Reykjavík record store, around 1954. I think it was on a label owned by Woody Herman, can that be correct? I also used to pass by him several times a week, when he stood on the 6th Ave. sidewalk outside of Blackrock—a very tall, imposing figure wrapped in what looked like U.S. Army blankets and wearing a Viking helmet of sorts.

Paul Secor: "Thanks for posting that link, Larry. I had no idea that Joe Goldberg had passed away. He seems to have been a more interesting man than I had realized. " I knew Joe Goldberg very well, we used to hang out together in the 1960s, when we both were doing work for Bob Weinstock. Bob paid $75 for liner notes until Joe offered to do them for $50. The result was that we all were reduced to the lower fee. That's when I severed my friendship with Joe. Other than that, he was fun to be with and, yes, he had his interesting positive moments—more often than not.

Burns was not color blind when he totally left Hispanics out of his WWII series. He had to add them after someone of importance pointed out the omission. With all the money they heap upon this faux documentarian, he could afford the best research team available. Hell, he would only need to hire one or two experts in whatever field he is focusing on, have them read the script and point out omissions and errors. The fact is that it does not matter to Ken Burns whether something actually occurred, or not—he is only interested in how it looks. When his producers asked to borrow a photo of Lil Armstrong's first wedding, because "Mr. Burns loves that picture of Louis," I pointed out that the young man in the picture was not Louis, that this was her first wedding, and Louis was still in N.O. They thanked me and used the picture, moving the camera slowly to the man who wasn't Louis, while deliberately mis-identifying him. When, having seen part i, I questioned the narrative's assertion that Coleridge Taylor and Fletcher Henderson (I may have the wrong names here) used to write arrangements while traveling through Central Park in a taxi. One of Burns' head producers, Shoala Lynch, told me that they had found this 1920s clip of cars going through the park and that Burns wanted it included—so they just made something up. I love Apple and have used its computers for close to 40 years, but I cannot forgive Steve Jobs—a man whom I admire immensely—for giving the idiotic label, "Ken Burns effect" to a generic pan of the camera across a still picture. Notice how the clueless interviewer in Mark's clip includes that tag in her introduction. Imagine what real, dedicated, honest documentary film makers could do with just a fraction of the funding this little media-generated creep gets. As it is, many less endowed film makers have demonstrated that integrity and cinematic skill can produce better results than Burns with his mega funding and corporate support. There is definitely a parallel to be drawn between Burns and Marsalis.

Patrick: "Fortunately, I don't think historian Doris Kearns Goodwin was consulted for this Burns extravaganza." Sad to say, Ms. Goodwin would probably have done better than most of the people Burns used.

In Burns' film on Jack Johnson, there is a very rare film clip that, amazingly, is move for move in key with a story told by Crouch as having been witnessed by his father. This is so obviously a faux segment wherein Crouch's story was made up to justify the clip. Burns is a shameless, dishonest film maker.

Ken Burns is a slick hack, stuck in a routine that totally lacks imagination when it comes to the technique of film making. He does, however, use imagination when it comes to storytelling, and that is contrary to the basic principles that true documentarians adhere to. Their job and goal is to tell the story based on known and uncovered facts—not to make things up or hire talking head who are known to do so. Burns is another corporate darling, like Wynton (whom he uses ad nauseam). Talent did not achieve for them the enormous recognition they enjoy—that was the work of clever promoters, abetted by gullible media whose aim it is to bamboozle a trusting public. It's all about the bottom line, which is why we see standards steadily lowered beyond the pale. The only (stress on only) worthwhile aspect of this series is that it contains a wealth of extraordinary footage. Burns had the money to acquire such footage, but he lacked the knowledge and will to use it with integrity. If only all that money and air time had been given to people who knew the music and were dedicated to its creators and the preservation of its history, but that is too much to ask in an era of declining standards and ethics. As it is, "Jazz" only tells the first half of the story and he dishes that out with serious gaps and facts that have been twisted to either fit in a clip that caught Burns' fancy or to accommodate personal biases. Because I allowed them to use some of my photos, I received a free copy of the series. I would not have lent them anything had I known what a disservice they were going to do the people who created this music. The set was still sealed when I gave it away. So, my advice is to watch "Jazz" for the interesting clips it contains and to ignore the idiocy of talking heads (Wynton and Crouch are particularly dishonest). As for that interview you link to, it is nauseating pap. The interviewer typifies the gullible, bird-brained media that has been a part of the Burns hype from the beginning. We have in this country a plethora of people who pose as journalists, thinkers, or both. They are given exposure that is far beyond any that their ability deserves, and they are paid by the very same corporations that fund the mediocrity they promote. An honest, independently thinking interviewer would have challenged rather than swallowed whole the "greatness" tag that media has embedded in the empty recesses of wannabe journalists and sellouts. I don't know from what "places" you have heard "good things," but I would promptly scratch them from my list.

Perhaps I missed it, but I have not seen any current mention of that infamous day, nine years ago. I was in my apartment that morning when a friend called and told me to turn on the TV. "Which channel?", I asked. "Any of them," he replied. He was right. Karl Knudsen (Storyville Records) was in town and staying with me. I called him into the living room and we watched, silently, as the second plane hit. That was, of course, something I shall never forget, but what remains with me in even sharper focus and with greater emotional impact was the walk Karl and I took on the following day. We walked down Broadway and you could see the tragedy and shock in people's faces, and many were putting up photos of loved ones unaccounted for. That practice grew as the day moved on. I visited a friend in a hospital that afternoon and there must have been a few hundred photos posted at the entrance, each with a name, a heartrending plea, and contact number. In all my years of living in New York, I had never before experienced such a bond. We are known for sometimes not even recognizing our next door neighbor, but on that day, we all knew each other and felt a common pain. Look at us now, nine years later. What a shame it is that hate and intolerance moved to the surface and wiped away the positive vibes. What a shame that self-serving politicians are playing such a big role in fostering that hate.

'one!

I have posted Scranton on an Empty Stomach, it being an account of and a number from a 1962 concert that I em-cee'ed. The music is a bit chaotic, but there is a lovely coda by Budd Johnson.

My heartiest congratulations, Chuck! ...and that's truly a great picture.

I have posted one full-length track from Elmer's "Harlem Banjo" album on my blog. Here is a direct link to "Rinning Wild"

Reminds me of when the Rose Kennedy Greenway was being unveiled in Boston. One of my friends' reactions was "What the hell did Rose Kennedy do besides have famous men coming in and out of her vagina? They should call it the Rose Kennedy Urban Birth Canal." Who went in?

The Thad, Hank, Elvin hypothesis is, of course, ludicrous. As is this elevating of the Marsalis family, but Wynton is no stranger to receiving politically-based awards—the Pulitzer Prize is a sad example. Phil Woods is absolutely right about this decision amounting to a tarnishing of this honor's value. Wynton's lofty seat on the jazz scene is largely the product of hype that germinated at CBS Records, and thus, faux. The rest of the family owe most of their recognition to that same successful promotional effort. Were the NEA honor solely based on artistic talent and influence, none of the Marsalises would merit consideration, not even Branford, who is a tad above the rest in the talent area. It is sad that standards in so many areas of music have been lowered to accommodate the less talented at the expense of the truly gifted.

The latest segment of the Ruby tapes is, to say the least, rather raunchy, so don't say that I didn't warn you!

Can something be very unique?