Larry Kart

One thing about Green's chordal accompaniment; it wasn't just his time; a la Lester Young (though of course not as boldly) Green fairly often anticipated (and/or "played into") the next change, which had a subtly propulsive effect, pulling the whole band forwards.

Camille Cosby, who previously had said that all Cosby's accusers were lying when they said that he had sex with him, now says that she has known for years that her husband was a serial philanderer but that she also knows that all of Cosby's accusers consented to have sex with him: http://nypost.com/2015/07/12/bill-cosbys-wife-says-accusers-consented-to-drugs-and-sex/ Strange line from this story -- Camille, speaking of her husband: "I created him."

Not sure what you mean by "lord over any of these women professionally?" but by their accounts his status as star entertainer certainly played a crucial role (as one might expect) in his encountering them and their encountering him. I don't recall, again by their accounts, that after they had sex he wanted to have anything more to do with them, personally or professionally. Well, that's not quite right -- when one of the women, a college student, contacted him to ask for an apology for what she said he had done, he proposed setting up an educational fund for her, with monies to be supplied as long as she maintained a 3.0 grade point average.

Bobo

You're right, Scott, as far as I can tell. Cosby admits in the deposition that he gave Quaaludes to several women in order to have sex with them, but he doesn't admit to giving them Quaaludes without their knowledge -- his lawyer objected to that line of questioning thusly: Q. Did you ever give any of those young women the Quaaludes without their knowledge? MR. O’CONNOR: Object to the question. Restrict it to the Jane Does, would you, please and that objection was allowed to stand for reasons that are not made clear. From an entry on deposition rules: " A person [e.g., in this case, Cosby's lawyer] may instruct a deponent not to answer only when necessary to preserve a privilege, to enforce a limitation ordered by the court, or to present a motion under Rule 30(d)(3)." What privilege was being preserved here, or what limitation ordered by the court was being enforced, I don't know.

Furtwangler’s Wartime Beethoven http://www.classicstoday.com/review/review-3208/ Blind Boy Fuller Vol. 2 http://www.allmusic.com/album/complete-recorded-works-vol-2-1936-1937-mw0000054439

Yes, Pres had a physical and mental breakdown in November 1955, was hospitalized, got good treatment, and came out in vigorous shape to make "Jazz Giants '56" and "Pres and Teddy" in early '56. Listening to the strength -- the sheer logic of his lines, melody upon melody-- of his playing on "Jazz Giants' '56" (everyone plays great) just stunned me, in part because I'd heard Pres with JATP in Chicago in Oct. '55, and he was not in good shape, though his playing there, especially in the ballad medley, while very minimalist and (if you will) vulnerable, also was very beautiful. I think that JATP performance was the first live jazz performance I ever heard. It was recorded, too -- came out on LP as "Blues in Chicago." Waiting at age 13 for the curtain to go up at the Opera House that afternoon and knowing who would be standing behind it was like waiting to see Achilles, Moses, Buddha, and Adam and Eve. We were out of our minds with excitement.

All I'm into is audiophilia.

Somnophilia. You live and learn.

A simple, at least to me, question: Where's the fun in having sex with a woman who's been rendered semi-unconscious with Quaaludes? It is just the virtual guarantee that there will be no or virtually no resistance, or is there something about the woman's comatose state that in itself is a turn on? And if it's just or mostly a) rather than b), how/why would her being comatose not be a turn off? Sorry to be spoil your breakfast, but wouldn't it be almost literally ghoulish?

Finally was able to listen at a fitting volume level. Great clarity/intensity of sound, sensitive mixing, bringing out (with no sense of dial twisting) some details in, say, Tomeka Reid's playing that weren't always easy to catch at Constellation. When I hear Roscoe these days, while there's an apparent air of abandon and extremity -- for want of better terms -- I also keep noticing the contradictory (though it's not really contradictory) diamond-like precision of detail, even at times a kind of calmness, or if not that, utter certainty. One possible example comes after "Ladies in Love" and the immediately preceding "Hey Fred," which at the very end of Roscoe's solo there seems to have required just about everything physically and otherwise that he can imaginably give, with "Ladies in Love" right in its footsteps and almost as demanding. And then to come up with the encore piece, the compact, swing-in-a-jewel-box feel of "Cermak Road" -- to have executed and conceived this after all that had come before.

Me either. In recent years, I've picked up most of her Capitol albums on vinyl. They're all at least good, and some are excellent.

Arrived. Will listen as soon as I'm alone in the house. Want the volume level to be realistic.

What kind of blues are we talking about here? You don' wanna know.

Marybeth Hamilton is married to my wife's former husband.

Moms wrote: "LK, some of those people you name are smarter listeners, thinkers than others. And some of the smartest, most knowledgeable listeners were social misfits cum fanatical record collectors & the depths of THEIR knowledge has yet to be fully tapped..." Just to be clear, you're referring to people that John L, not I, named -- 'Paul Oliver, David Evans, Robert Palmer, Mack McCormick, Peter Guralnick, etc.' The only people I named in my posts were musicians, not writers about the blues.

Oops -- That Whitlock interview was the work of Marc Myers.

Moms -- As I said in a previous post, when I first heard RJ when that Columbia LP came out, I already was pretty familiar with a good many other "contextual" blues figures. As for RJ and OP both being executants (allegedly), that doesn't account for RJ's intensity versus ... however one feels about OP's music otherwise, what OP performances would one characterize as exceptionally intense? And if RJ's intensity is essentially that of an imitator, why do we not have other essentially imitative blues figures whom one spontaneously regards the way I (and others) responded to Johnson's music back in the day? If he was the blues equivalent of Frank Gorshin and/or David Frye, why are there not many more (or any?) such blues figures? As for "the black record buyers who mostly didn't buy RJ records" -- if that's your primary standard of validity, I have to laugh. Like availability? distribution? what was more or less "vernacular"/familiar versus that which sounded novel, shifting tastes of urban and rural populations? disposable income on the part of those populations? etc. Where and when and with what groups does this record-sales standard of validity not apply? The best jazz recording of 1936 was "The Music Goes Round and Round and It Comes Out Here"? More black record buyers bought "Open the Door, Richard" than bought "Shaw Nuff," so...?

Moms -- Oscar Peterson? What in the two men's musics is the least bit comparable? Are you just trying to grab any paddle to stir shit up? Never mind, I've just answered my own question.

Martino didn't just "forget"; he had a stroke that pretty much clobbered his brain and then had to learn to play again.

Wading into this in all semi-innocence --when I first heard Columbia's Robert Johnson LP, back when it came out, I had already heard a good deal of so-called country blues on record and sometimes in person, from the likes of Charley Patton, Big Joe Williams, Fred McDowell (in BTW 1962, at Fred's home in Como, Miss.), Furry Lewis, Sleepy John Estes, LeRoy Carr, Lightnin' Hopkins, etc., not to mention, also in person and on record, a good deal of Chicago urban blues (Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf, Junior Wells, J.B. Hutto, Little Walter, etc. and Robert Johnson's intensity (to use John Litweiler's term) still struck me as remarkable. In the light of all the vintage blues recording I've gone on to hear since then -- from the likes of Bukka White, Son House, et al. -- it still does. And I have no recollection of being moved back then by any hype -- from Columbia or from the media --in having that response to Johnson's music. Hey, FWIW, working in 1968 on assembling a high school literature anthology as an editor at a textbook publishing company, I transcribed "Crossroads Blues" and got it into the book. In doing that, I suppose, I was an agent of the illegitimate Robert Johnson "legend."

Original bassist with the Gerry Mulligan Quartet and the one who introduced Mulligan to Chet Baker. Fine interview with him from a few years back by Doug Ramsey: http://www.jazzwax.com/2015/07/bob-whitlock-1931-2015.html

Re: that Julie London album with the nutty Jimmy Rowles charts (played by an uncredited big band, though Benny Carter was quite identifiable) that I went on about a while ago. Today I put on an LP I had but had never seriously listened to before, “Bobby Troup and His Stars of Jazz” (RCA,) from the same year, 1958, with a big band with Rowles on piano and eight arrangments by him (the other four are by Shorty Rogers), and vocals by Troup (London's husband and the producer of that London album). The collective personnel is quite a gathering of the L.A. studio clan: Pete and Conte Candoli, Buddy Childers, Ollie Mitchell, Al Porcino, Shorty, Ray Triscari, Stu Williamson (tpts); Milt Bernhart, Harry Betts, Bob Enevoldsen, John Halliburton, Dick Nash, Frank Rosolino, Kenny Shroyer (trbs); Benny Carter, Bob Cooper, Chuck Gentry, Bill Holman, Bud Shank, Plas Johnson, Richie Kamuca, Paul Horn (reeds); Rowles, Red Norvo, Barney Kessel, Joe Mondragon or Monty Budwig, Mel Lewis or Shelly Manne. A very relaxed date, handsomely recorded, with great presence on bass and drums. My copy is mono; the stereo version might be nice to hear. "The "Stars of Jazz" BTW was the L.A.-based jazz TV show of the time that Troup hosted.

I reviewed that one for Down Beat when it came out way back when.

Erroll Garner's "Soliloquy" and Johnny Griffin and Lockjaw Davis' "Tough Tenor Favorites." The former, all solo from 1957, Garner very free and inventive, vividly recorded in Columbia's 30th St. studio. The latter nicely recorded too for a Ray Fowler date, Buddy Catlett on bass captured with much clarity and presence (the rest of the rhythm section is Horace Parlan and Ben Riley), Griff and Jaws joyfully intense and not at all pro forma.