Larry Kart

Not a fan -- he mostly strikes me as very logy and/or kind of like a "chubby kid," if you know what I mean. On the other hand, I have heard a few things I warmed up to, especially his playing on this excellent Carol Sloane sings Ellington album: http://www.amazon.com/Dearest-Duke-Carol-S...e/dp/B000PC6E9O

What the hell?!?!? Screech trumpet??? This is bizarre in the truest sense of the word. Haven't heard this track, but while Brisbois could play "insanely high," he did not (in my experience) screech.

Everything Happens To Me -- circa 1940 (when Sinatra had the hit on it with Tommy Dorsey) Why Try To Change Me Now? -- 1952

Children of the Night

BILLY MAY AND HIS ORCHESTRA: John Audino,Don Fagerquist,Uan Rasey,Bud Brisbois(tp) Lew McCreary(bass tp) Ed Kusby,Milt Bernhart, Tommy Shepard,William Schaefer(tb) Paul Horn(fl,as) Justin Gordon(ts,picc) Chuck Gentry(bs) Ray Sherman(p) Joe Gibbons(g) Ralph Pena(b) Alvin Stoller(dm) Billy May(arr,cond). (Session #11042)(Capitol Tower) LA,February 11,1963

Matt Dennis and The Hi-Los: A bit scary in some respects, I admit.

He was a hip, charming singer, too.

YMMV, but I find Keepnews, dealing with Danilo Perez, to be compact, lucid, and sensible: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/24/arts/mus...erez&st=cse and Ratliff, dealing with Marcus Roberts and J@LC, to be clueless and verbose (he says very little in about a third more space than Keepnews had): http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/24/arts/mus...liff&st=cse Disclaimer: I once exchanged an e-mail or two with Keepnews about something I don't recall; he seemed to be a nice guy. Ratliff I know only from his writing.

A great book. And it's about more than Stalingrad, though that portion of the book is almost beyond belief; at one point, Grossman even takes us inside a gas chamber at Treblinka -- an impossible scene to render, one might think, but he does it. Grossman, BTW, was, I believe, the first journalist (he was in the front line, with the troops) to write an account of the death camps, in 1944. Also, just about the whole story of the Soviet intelligentsia during this period is here, plus the Battle of Kursk, etc.

All the Martin Cruz Smith/Arkady Renko novels after "Gorky Park." Am in the middle of "Wolves Eat Dogs."So far, I like "Red Square" the best. As a friend said, at the end it's almost as good as Stendhal. Too bad (for me) that there's only one left after this one. Start writing, Martin.

Leave us not forget Velvel: Velvel - 24" This figure is made to represent the character created by Ricky Layne. It was his ventriloquist figure he created in the 50's. Velvel was a Yiddish character.... http://www.ventriloquistcentral.com/ventri...-toys/index.htm

Sorry. This is Vol. 2: http://www.amazon.com/Definitive-Fats-Wall...8427&sr=1-5

Velveeta, Velveeta, what makes your big head so hard.

Picked these up these well-filled gems the other day -- radio transcriptions from 1935 and 1939 (solo and by a fine and somewhat different edition of his band -- John Smith in for Al Casey on guitar, and tasty trumpeter Bugs Hamilton taking over from Herman Autrey) plus a radio broadcast with George Jessel, a 1936 remote broadcast, and two 1939 private recordings made in London). Some of the most delightful Waller I know -- and I've heard a lot. Most of it is in fine sound (Jerry Valburn/Jack Towers remastering), and Dan Morgenstern's detailed notes are a joy. A few multiple versions reveal that Fats changed things up a good deal every time, even on pieces such as "Honeysuckle Rose," which he played thousands of times -- and what a great vocal improviser, too. And his sense of time! What might it have been like if he and Lester Young had recorded together. I know -- there's Basie, whose chief model was Fats, but the driving, rock-solid sense of swing that Waller builds up on many of these tracks would have been perfect for Pres, and vice versa. Released in 1990 and 1991, these Stash CDs are OOP but available used from sellers at Amazon at reasonable prices: http://www.amazon.com/Definitive-Fats-Wall...6936&sr=1-3 http://www.amazon.com/Definitive-Fats-Wall...6936&sr=1-3

But Jim, Flip Wilson founded the Church of What's Happening Now almost 40 years ago.

That's not what Allen said. He said: "...I do believe that my understanding of the sounds she heard is closer than that of Wynton or Stanley." (My emphasis)

Neither I nor Allen, I believe, is saying "more authentic," not at all -- just different in flavor, as you say, and also perhaps different in recipes/ingredients and cooking methods. And those differences are potentially interesting. Also, minstrelsy and clowning are not necessarily the same thing.

And once it was 1898, almost 1899.

Sure, but I think that part of Allen's point (if not the gist of it) was that when Armstrong was becoming Armstrong, in the early to mid-1920s, the lay of the land in regard to blues strains and strains of minstrelsy in the music was significantly different than it is now, and if one knows what the lay of that land was (insofar as we can know it), Armstrong's undeniable use of blues material seems to have been from a minstrelsy perspective. This, of course, does not mean that Armstrong was what used to be thought of as a minstrel show performer; not at all. Rather, that the game-like, shape-shifting of minstrelsy (its gift for amplification and projection) was, Allen and others feel, what can be heard in how Armstrong handled blues material, and that is not what one hears in, to follow Allen's apt example, someone like Tommy Johnson. To emphasize again, Tommy Johnson and guys like Tommy Johnson matter in this not only because of the nature of what they were doing but also what they were doing then was pretty much being done then -- music like theirs was consensually/communally regraded as the blues (were not just talking about record companies here), and Armstrong was part of the community that was well aware of that strain of American vernacular music, felt its power, but (as Allen feels) then went on to, in Armstrong's case, "handle" it in effect. Armstrong, as is well known and can be heard, also felt and "handled" a fair amount of the Italian opera vibe that was readily available in New Orleans, but one wouldn't say that when he did this he was a Puccini or a Caruso musician. P.S. I can't put my hands on it right now, but one of the most fascinating pocket examples of the musical "lay of the land" back then is a CD of Gus Cannon and His Jug Stompers material from 1927 -- Cannon born in Mississippi in 1883. From piece to piece, things shift from strains that are pretty clearly blues-like, minstrel-like, even what what would come to be called "old-timey" country (this is the band that gave us "Walk Right In")-- all this being played and sung by pretty much the same group of musicians with frequently tremendous zest and flair. But however satisfying/charming the blues-like pieces are, there is a definite sense of minstrelsy-like handling and presentation to them vis-vis-a-vis the kind of direct dramatic involvement one gets from Tommy Johnson or Charley Patton -- this also being evident in how the Cannon band can shift so readily and convincingly into other stylistic modes. Now I'm not saying that Tommy Johnson or Charley Patton didn't know and couldn't have played the crap out of some mountain fiddle tunes if they'd wanted to, or that the "direct dramatic involvement" of their own material involved no amount of dramatization of their part, but you probably get the picture. And I'm certainly not saying that Cannon's Jug Stompers were in the same place as Armstrong, if only because the latter was, musically and otherwise, a kind of unleashed, unstoppable,immensely sophisticated thunderbolt, while Cannon and his colleagues had little room for "development" in themselves; they were great in their time and place, and that was about it. Finally, Jim, not every attempt to sift and quantify is at bottom (as I sometimes feel you've come to think) an attempt to control and dismiss what has been running free and should be left to be that way. Take a look, for instance, at Lawrence Gushee's "Pioneers of Jazz: The Story of the Creole Band" (Oxford U. Press, 2005), to see what real jazz scholarship at work can be like and, more to the point, how it involves sifting through all sorts of contemporary, often fragmentary evidence and partial highly colored latter-day testimony, reminscences, and perspectives with a rather jaw-dropping blend of love and scrupulousness -- all of which can leave us with (as is the case with Gushee's book) something very close to a near-living-and-breathing woolly mammoth; the Creole Band (which included Feddie Keppard, Jimmy Noone, bassist Bill Johnson et al.) of course being tremendously important to the history of jazz -- touring the country as a fairly major vaudeville act from 1914 to 1918, it had a vast influence, even though the band left behind not a single recording.

Sam Most should be heard -- his Xanadu albums as a leader and sideman in particular. Reasonable people may disagree on Most's music -- I sometimes disagree with myself about it -- but he sure does swing and is never boring.

That Julie London clip! Now that's some lady.

Cross-posted from the "Jazz/Indie Rock" thread on "Miscellaneous Music" because if you haven't been following that thread etc.: Went to hear Josh Berman and Matt Schneider last night; unfortunately, Schneider had severely broken a leg in several places several weeks ago while skate-boarding (these are the problems when you've got a scene full of younger musicians) and couldn't make it. Waited around for Berman's set and was richly rewarded. Josh, when he saw me, jokingly said something like "Oh, no, we're going to play 'free' tonight" -- meaning that his normal bands are less this way, that there would be more chances of error or outright failure this way, and therefore I shouldn't be there to witness it, also that (as it turned it) these four particular guys (Josh, Keefe Jackson, Jason Roebke, Marc Riordan) had never played as a group, though they'd all played before with each other, along with others, in some cases many times -- Keefe is Josh's most frequent musical partner. Josh, BTW, was my door to this scene. Met him around 2000 or so when he was working at the JRM and became bemused by how much stuff he'd listened to at his young age (then mid-to-late 20s). Almost nothing could come up that he hadn't heard and had knowledgable things to say about -- and I've got an almost 40-year head start on him. I knew he played the trumpet (later the cornet), had studied with Brad Goode and a CSO player-teacher, but I'd never heard him play. Then he mentioned that he had an upcoming gig with a quartet (altoist Aram Shelton, drummer Dave Williams, bassist Brian Dibblee) at a an Uptown coffee house. I felt I had to go but wondered what I'd say if I thought they weren't very good -- though I did know Williams and Dibblee from their work in some fairly straightahead settings, and they certainly could play. In any case, that band was openly Ornettish -- playing actual Ornette tunes and originals in that vein -- and while Shelton clearly was the further along player, what Josh was doing was very interesting. His key models, as he would freely admit, were this unlikely trio: Don Cherry, Ruby Braff, and Tony Fruscella. He loved the lower register and ... I was going to say "bent" notes but -- and this taste has persisted over time and become much more under control and less decorative -- they're more like "shaped" or "cupped" notes, in that what's involved is mostly not an outright change in pitch but a flowing change in timbre within the note, this usually achieved without the use of mute, plunger, etc. and to the point where the change in timbre is almost where one might say the "melody" is, or that the actual melody and this auxiliary and at times almost contrapuntal melody of timbral shifts coexist. On the other hand, at that point, Josh's phrases tended to be fairly short and "abstract" -- in both cases, though they fit the style of the music they were playing, one wondered whether it was also that he HAD to play that way. Over time, the latter probably proved to be the case; after he bought a lovely cornet, which fit what was he was going for like magic, and began to practice a good deal harder, I think, and play in public more frequently, the phrases began to link up and his overall command of the instrument became unquestionable -- in terms of facility and range, in particular. Now I'd been around a good bit during the early days of the AACM, later been a big fan of the Hal Russell Ensemble, but after Hal's death my contact with the local avant-gardish scene had kind of withered away, as perhaps the scene itself had to some degree -- I can't say for sure because I was kind of elsewhere, in part because in the late '80s I left my newspaper reviewing gig and became an editor in the paper's Books section, eventually the editor of that section, which was a very demanding, time-consuming job (but great fun). When the whole Vandermark thing began and was up and running for a while, I went to some of his things and realized right off that I wasn't, and probably never would be, a fan -- though clearly some of the guys he was working with (e.g. trombonist Jeb Bishop, reedman Dave Rempis) were impressive players. The whole Tortoise, et al. alt-rock thing, and the Chicago Underground Duo/Trio thing I came to know only from recordings -- Rob Mazurek I think was just about to leave town, if he hadn't already left, when I began to go out to hear a lot things, but I have heard a fair amount of Jeff Parker in-person since then and some Chad Taylor (who also left town). So after hearing Josh's quartet at that coffee house in 2000 or 2001 (I have a privately pressed CD that band made and am holding it for ransom), I began to go to all sorts of things in that seemingly ever-widening circle of youngish players (terrific players have flowed in from other cities and regions with regularity and generally have stayed) and became aware that this was a scene the likes of which I hadn't witnessed since, again, the vintage days of the AACM. Terry Martin BTW has jokingly/tartly referred to these players as the New Austin High Gang, implying that their relationship to the music of the vintage AACM is analogous to the relationship between the original Austin High Gang and King Oliver-Louis Armstrong, both in terms of race and influence. This I feel, and Terry now I think mostly agrees, is an amusing line but not really accurate -- there is knowledge of and fondness for the vintage AACM here, of course, and contact with the current AACM, but these players collectively come from a whole lot of other places as well; I hear, for one, at times a whole lot of wisely and utterly assimilated Morton Feldman, an understanding of exactly what Feldman meant when he said to Stockhausen that his (i.e. Feldman's) "secret" was that "I don't push the sounds around." (Stockhausen's plaintive response, according to Morty was, "Not even a little bit?") Getting back to last night's music -- it was free in that it was not pre-planned, but given that, the goal was not to determinedly stay "free" or "out" (if you will) at all times but to allow whatever form-making impulses that were or might be present to emerge -- passages of fairly straight swinging "time" were possible, as well as the feeling that a collective "tune with changes" feeling had been arrived at for a while. (I should add that the one constant on this scene is that everyone in every group that's any good tries to think and act "compositionally." The actual sounds that result can be stylistically quite diverse, but it's such an important, constant thing that it almost takes its absence where you expect it to be to remind you of how rich that constant compositional feel is and how much it matters. For instance, a very talented, fairly well-known, mid-40ish rhythm section player settled in the area a few years ago; he began to play on the scene a lot, but his approach was pretty clearly "I am the virtuoso," which he pretty much was. To my mind, he stuck out like a sore thumb at first, as gifted as he was, but over time he got the "compositional" thing, which was weird in a way because he came from a scene in another major city where one had thought that was in the air too --but no, or not nearly as much. Keefe Jackson (originally from Arkansas) got to me the first time I heard him, maybe back in 2002, when he was regarded by some local mavens as a second-line or even a third-line figure who probably would just stay there. I thought he had some problems in terms of sound -- he just didn't seem to make the horn vibrate as much I thought he should (this was out of then-prevailing temperamental diffidence, I believe, rather than lack of ability) -- but what I think of as his gifts as a shape-maker and his unquenchable in-the-momentness (in both respects he reminds me of "Sound"-vintage Kalaparusha/Maurice McIntyre) -- convinced me that he had great promise and was damn good right then. As it happens, Keefe's sound last night on both tenor and bass clarinet was as rich as I've think I've ever heard from him; he filled the room with overtones without the least sense of strain, and Elastic is a fairly "dry" space. Also, his rapport with Josh, and Josh's with him, is just ... I was going to say "uncanny," but I've heard it often enough that I can't say that; how about "canny"? Roebke's stylistic flexibility and spontaneity within whatever might be going on is pretty amazing; in Mike Reed's People, Places and Things, for example, he plays some of the hardest-walking time this side of the late George Tucker; here he can lay out for considerable stretches, thinking about where and how to come in, and then just surprise the crap out of you by how he swoops in what he decides to do once he lands. Also, he's got such a lovely, big sound, with a lot of useful "pluck" to it. Drummer Marc Riordan is one of the scene's many emigrees, from the Boston area, and he just fascinates me with the essentially cool, contained, crisp aptness of everything he does -- and I've heard him in lots of settings, from straightahead cooking things, to a neo-Bill Evans trio, to free, to my son's singer-songwriter band Medium Sized Rabbit, which is not that far from Sam Prekop territory. Riordan (who's also one heck of a piano player) sounds like himself, but I think I can hear in him a fondness for Tony Williams, Roy Haynes (the crispness), and Joe Chambers -- Chambers' sort of compositional "cool" in particular. One odd thing is that while I don't often like to look at anyone while they're playing -- in part because I hear better with my eyes closed, in part because it can be distracting when you think you're seeing one thing and are hearing another -- Riordan, more than any modern drummer I can think of, makes no move that doesn't correspond precisely to what you hear. In part that's because he's not a big person and doesn't have long arms, thus he stays quite centered and physically economical amid his kit. I imagine that Baby Dodds also might have had that "what you see is just what you get" quality. By contrast, the marvelous Frank Rosaly may be the most "what you see may not be at all what you hear" drummer I've ever encountered -- and Frank is marvelous. So that's a bit of what last night was like, with some context thrown in.

Wonderful soulful player, great guy. I know and like all the things mentioned above. My intro was his playing on Douglas's "Moving Portraits" and the Blue Note album that Bill Stewart led (don't recall the title) -- had to hear more and haven't been disappointed yet.

Went to hear Josh Berman and Matt Schneider last night; unfortunately, Schneider had severely broken a leg in several places several weeks ago while skate-boarding (these are the problems when you've got a scene full of younger musicians) and couldn't make it. Waited around for Berman's set and was richly rewarded. Josh, when he saw me, jokingly said something like, "Oh, no, we're going to play 'free' tonight" -- meaning that his normal bands are less this way, that there would be more chances of error or outright failure this way, and therefore I shouldn't be there to witness it, also that (as it turned it) these four particular guys (, Josh, Keefe Jackson, Jason Roebke, Marc Riordan) had never played as a group, though they'd all played before with each other, along with others, in some cases many times -- Keefe is Josh's most frequent musical partner. Josh, BTW, was my door to this scene. Met him around 2000 or so when he was working at the JRM and became bemused by how much stuff he'd listened to at his young age (then mid-to-late 20s). Almost nothing could come up that he hadn't heard and had knowledgable things to say about -- and I've got an almost 40-year head start on him. I knew he played the trumpet (later the cornet), had studied with Brad Goode and a CSO player-teacher, but I'd never heard him play. Then he mentioned that he had an upcoming gig with a quartet (altoist Aram Shelton, drummer Dave Williams, bassist Brian Dibblee) at a an Uptown coffee house. I felt I had to go but wondered what I'd say if I thought they weren't very good -- though I did know Williams and Dibblee from their work in some fairly straightahead settings, and they certainly could play. In any case, that band was openly Ornettish -- playing actual Ornette tunes and originals in that vein -- and while Shelton clearly was the further along player, what Josh was doing was very interesting. His key models, as he would freely admit, were this unlikely trio: Don Cherry, Ruby Braff, and Tony Fruscella. He loved the lower register and ... I was going to say "bent" notes but -- and this taste has persisted over time and become much more under control and less decorative -- they're more like "shaped" or "cupped" notes, in that what's involved is mostly not an outright change in pitch but a flowing change in timbre within the note, this usually achieved without the use of mute, plunger, etc. and to the point where the change in timbre is almost where one might say the "melody" is, or that the actual melody and this auxiliary and times almost contrapuntal melody of timbral shifts coexist. On the other hand, at this point, Josh's phrases tended to be fairly short and "abstract" -- in both cases, though they fit the style of the music they were playing, one wondered whether it was also that he HAD to play that way. Over time, the latter probably proved to be the case; after he bought a lovely cornet, which fit what was he was going for like magic, and began to practice a good deal harder, I think, and play in public more frequently, the phrases began to link up and his overall command of the instrument became unquestionable -- in terms of facility and range, in particular. Now I'd been around a good bit during the early days of the AACM, later been a big fan of the Hal Russell Ensemble, but after Hal's death my contact with the local avant-gardish scene had kind of withered away, as perhaps the scene itself had to some degree -- I can't say for sure because I was kind of elsewhere, in part because in the late '80s I left my newspaper reviewing gig and became an editor in the paper's Books section, eventually the editor of that section, which was a very demanding, time-consuming job (but great fun). When the whole Vandermark thing began and was up and running for a while, I went to some of his things and realized right off that I wasn't, and probably never would be, a fan -- though clearly some of the guys he was working with (e.g. trombonist Jeb Bishop, reedman Dave Rempis) were impressive players. The whole Tortoise, et al. alt-rock thing, and the Chicago Underground Duo/Trio thing I came to know only from recordings -- Rob Mazurek I think was just about to leave town, if he hadn't already left, when I began to go out to hear a lot things, but I have heard a fair amount of Jeff Parker in-person since then and some Chad Taylor (who also left town). So after hearing Josh's quartet at that coffee house in 2000 or 2001 (I have a privately pressed CD that band made and am holding it for ransom), I began to go to all sorts of things in that seemingly ever-widening circle of youngish players (terrific players have flowed in from other cities and regions with regularity and generally have stayed) and became aware that this was a scene the likes of which I hadn't witnessed since, again, the vintage days of the AACM. Terry Martin BTW has jokingly/tartly referred to these players as the New Austin High Gang, implying that their relationship to the music of the vintage AACM is analogous to the relationship between the original Austin High Gang and King Oliver-Louis Armstrong, both in terms of race and influence. This I feel, and Terry now I think mostly agrees, is an amusing line but not really accurate -- there is knowledge of and fondness for the vintage AACM here, of course, and contact with the current AACM, but these players collectively come from a whole lot of other places as well; I hear, for one, at times a whole lot of wisely and utterly assimilated Morton Feldman, an understanding of exactly what Feldman meant when he said to Stockhausen that his (i.e. Feldman's) "secret" was that "I don't push the sounds around." (Stockhausen's plaintive response, according to Morty was, "Not even a little bit?") Getting back to last night's music -- it was free in that it was not pre-planned, but given that, the goal was not to determinedly stay "free" or "out" (if you will) at all times but to allow whatever form-making impulses that were or might be present to emerge -- passages of fairly straight swinging "time" were possible, as well as the feeling that a collective "tune with changes" feeling had been arrived at for a while. (I should add that the one constant on this scene is that everyone in every group that's any good tries to think and act "compositionally." The actual sounds that result can be stylistically quite diverse, but it's such an important, constant thing that it almost takes its absence where you expect it to be to remind you of how rich that constant compositional feel is it is and how much it matters. For instance, a very talented, fairly well-known, mid-40ish rhythm section player settled in the area a few years ago; he began to play on the scene a lot, but his approach was pretty clearly "I am the virtuoso," which he pretty much was. To my mind, he stuck out like a sore thumb at first, as gifted as he was, but over time he got the "compositional" thing, which was weird in a way because he came from a scene in another major city where one had thought that was in the air too --but no, or not nearly as much. Keefe Jackson (originally from Arkansas) got to me the first time I heard him, maybe back in 2002, when he was regarded by some local mavens as a second-line or even a third-line figure who probably would just stay there. I thought he had some problems in terms of sound -- he just didn't seem to make the horn vibrate as much I thought he should (this was out of then-prevailing temperamental diffidence , I believe, rather than lack of ability) -- but what I think of as his gifts as a shape-maker and his unquenchable in-the-momentness (in both respects he reminds me of "Sound"-vintage Kalaparusha/Maurice McIntyre) -- convinced me that he had great promise and was damn good right then. As it happens, Keefe's sound last night on both tenor and bass clarinet was as rich as I've think I've ever heard from him; he filled the room with overtones without the least sense of strain, and Elastic is a fairly "dry" space. Also, his rapport with Josh, and Josh's with him, is just ... I was going to say "uncanny," but I've heard it often enough that I can't say that; how about "canny"? Roebke's stylistic flexibility and spontaneity within whatever might be going on is pretty amazing; in Mike Reed's People, Places and Things, for example he plays some of the hardest-walking time this side of the late George Tucker; here he can lay out for considerable stretches, thinking about where and how to come in, and then just surprise the crap out of you by how he swoops in what he decides to do once he lands. Also, he's got such a lovely, big sound, with a lot of useful "pluck" to it. Drummer Marc Riordan is one of the scene's many emigrees, from the Boston area, and he just fascinates me with the essentially cool, contained, crisp aptness of everything he does -- and I've heard him in lots of settings, from straightahead cooking things, to a neo-Bill Evans trio, to free, to my son's singer-songwriter band Medium Sized Rabbit, which is not that far from Sam Prekop territory. Riordan (who's also one heck of a piano player) sounds like himself, but I think I can hear in him a fondness for Tony Williams, Roy Haynes (the crispness), and Joe Chambers -- Chambers' sort of compositional "cool" in particular. One odd thing is that while I don't often like to look at anyone while they're playing -- in part because I hear better with my eyes closed, in part because it can be distracting when you think you're seeing one thing and are hearing another -- Riordan, more than any modern drummer I can think of, makes no move that doesn't correspond precisely to what you hear. In part that's because he's not a big person and doesn't have long arms, thus he stays quite centered and physically economical amid his kit. I imagine that Baby Dodds also might have had that "what you see is just what you get" quality. By contrast, the marvelous Frank Rosaly may be the most "what you see may not be at all what you hear" drummer I've ever encountered -- and Frank is marvelous. So that's a bit of what last night was like, with some context thrown in. BTW, if anyone thinks this ought to be in another slot, like "Recommendations" or "Live Shows," tell me and I'll think about moving it.

My favorite SUV is the Ford Global Destroyer. Actually, I once was at a stoplight when a Lincoln Navigator pulled up behind while I wasn't looking, and when I checked my rearview mirror I thought the sky had been blotted out.