Late

1. Skylark 2. Little Girl Blue 3. My Funny Valentine (*) * It should have been banned from performance after Miles and Chet covered it. Gerry Mulligan seems one of the worst offenders -- repeated (and boring) performances. And I love Gerry Mulligan.

After a fairly thorough trawling through the internet, it appears that Ali's leader dates on KnitClassics (reissues of his own Survival label) might actually be out-of-print ... or at least harder and harder to come by. But, um, get this: Walmart lists all his KnitClassics titles as available.

akanalog — just so you know, N.Y. Capers & Quirks has a lot of high-pitched (even for soprano) playing on it. At times, come to think of it, some portions remind me of Hendrix playing way up on the bridge. There are, however, singable melodies with each tune. I love it, but it might not be your cup of tea.

Yep, School Days, I think, is an excellent introduction to Lacy. The one that really hooked my heart was N.Y. Capers & Quirks. Lacy's not only in top form, but Ronnie Boykins and Denis Charles give it their all on the set. While considerably "out," it's truly sublime music. Unfortunately, I've never heard the LPs that this disc made selections from. Several tracks were, I guess, deemed unfit for CD reissue. Still waiting for Werner to reissue Ballets ... and maybe a double-disc set of Futurities as well.

Nope, the gig I'm thinking of isn't the Smithsonian date. (I've seen that one too, and, you're right, it isn't all that engaging.) This gig was on Seventh Avenue in New York. Can't remember the name of the club, or if the video even mentions it. But the cameras repeatedly cut back to Walter Davis in the audience — Blakey even mentions him by name before he introduces the Messengers. Just checked. CD Universe has a DVD of the gig for $9.75. Right here. I've only seen it on VHS. May have to pick this one up.

Wow, I didn't know that Tyrone Washington subbed for Branford in Sting's band. Totally missed that. For me, J-Mood is where things become extremely sedate.

Interesting comment. Branford, I'm fairly sure and as you already know, started with Sting in '84. Two years earlier (— I think I read this in an old DownBeat from the time), he was still sorting through the Wayne Shorter influence — which is interesting, I think, because at the time he was still on alto. Apparently he was hooked on Shorter's soloing from the Plugged Nickel set, and wanted to get some of that into his improvising on alto. I think it worked some of the time ...

I really like this set, but I actually think it should be very low on the list of Lacy recordings to try out if you're just getting into (or wanting to get into) Lacy. As far as Aëbi goes — try Vespers. If that doesn't prick up your ears regarding her singing, probably nothing will. But that's OK. Lacy's music, at least as I hear it, can't really exist without Aëbi (even if she's not singing), but I can see how some listeners just can't get with her. Nothing wrong with that. Gil Evans And 10 has some excellent Lacy on it. That might be a good way to ease into the guy's playing. Besides, that SACD hybrid is a productions-value miracle.

You know what — I like Wynton Marsalis's playing from 1981-1983. That's not even a confession. I like it. After those years, well, who knows. But, shit, the little fucker during those years was aged 20-22! I don't own any Marsalis (Wynton or otherwise) in my collection, and actually don't plan on purchasing anything Marsalis any time soon ... but let the madness be suspended for a moment. At that young age, Wynton still made mistakes (musically), and they were beautiful. He wasn't yet playing with that detached insouciance that can make him seem so soulless now ... At any rate, if you can find a copy, try to see a (filmed live) 1982 Messengers gig called "The Jazz Life." Copies (usually cheap) are out and around on DVD, coupled with a Mike Manieri set (also live). The Messengers on the set are: Wynton Marsalis: trumpet Branford Marsalis: alto saxophone Billy Pierce: tenor saxophone Donald Brown: piano Charles Fambrough: bass Art Blakey: drums (Walter Davis, Jr. is in the audience with a perma-grin throughout the entire show.) It won't change your life, but it's certainly worth watching. Sure, you can already see the seeds of The Marsalis Cockiness, but try not to let that get in the way. Wynton Marsalis is playing here — surely Lee Morgan must have been laughing and nodding from heaven.

The Enja release, I believe, is a live date. There's a link on the board here about it. The Jordan Strata East session is indeed being reissued. Details are in a Japanese reissue thread on the board. If I recall correctly, it's going to be a jewel case reissue, and is over 2400¥. It can be pre-ordered through Hiroshi Tanno!

Thanks, Luca! I now notice that Amazon has a few used copies ... (How do you like the music?)

Anyone have, or ever heard, this one? http://www.discogs.com/release/488775 Looks interesting on paper at least ...

I'm glad this is out, though I'll likely just stick with my separate releases. But ... what's up with all the titles that get ascribed to Coltrane? Damn, he's got to be cringing in the grave. For Atlantic: Heavyweight Champion For Prestige: Fearless Leader And then, when Universal decides to cash in on Trane's 100th birthday: For Impulse: Omnipotent Benefactor ... followed by patchier comps, such as: For Savoy: Heroic Transcendentalist For Blue Note/United Artists/Roulette: Gracious Liberator ... and?

I'm all over this one. Thanks for the heads-up. Did Emanem and Psi merge? Squidco (where I usually buy Emanem discs) lists these two labels together. Maybe that's just for convenience.

UCCU 9323 Rollins,Sonny(ts) / There Will Never Be Another You New Port 1963 Wait a minute ... typo here? I have There Will Never Be Another You, but what's up with Newport 1963? Is Verve Japan being sneaky here? Couldn't be — the Newport recording (with Coleman Hawkins?) was done by RCA. Any thoughts? Detectives?

There's some (fairly famous) quote of Miles' in response to Dave Holland playing some Evan Parker for him. (Evidently Holland also wanted to get Parker into the band.) It goes something like: "Dave, that's some nice shit there, but that's not where my band is gonna go." I can't now remember where I've read that, but I know I've seen it more than once. Miles dug Evan Parker?

David — you were in the studio when this was recorded? I thought this session was actually a studio date with live applause added later. Now I'm confused ...

Up, to go with the other Daley thread. This album is certainly worth hearing. (Couldn't get couw's cover art link to work, though.)

I always knew Paul McCartney was a versatile musician ... oh, wait a minute.

Kind of on-topic here ... but McIntyre's Stone Blues, if you didn't already get it in the Concord blowout, is currently available from The Bards for $5.99 Carpe diem!

Happy Birthday ~ (And may the Horo catalog some day see reissue light!)

This was an interesting read. Thought I'd share it here. Recollections of Joe Daley by Rich Corpolongo I met Joe when I was 11 years old. My brother Tony had just gotten out of the Marine Corps and went to take music lessons at Rizzo School of Music located in Chicago. One of his theory teachers was Joe Daley. Since I had an interest in playing the clarinet my brother mentioned to me that his theory teacher also taught clarinet and saxophone. My first meeting with Joe was nerve racking. He had a way of looking through you with his piercing eyes. I didn't know how to cope with this musical giant until much later. If there was any question about a certain interpretation of a musical idea Joe would demonstrate it completely on his clarinet—sometimes taking the whole lesson to prove his point. Of course, whenever I would deliberately not practice Joe would be on my case with very hurtful remarks such as: 1) "Why don't you give your clarinet to someone who wants to play it." 2) "You'll never play that horn—you're wasting your money and my time." 3) "Why don't you give it up and just come here every week and we'll talk." 4) "Why not become a baseball player since you are obviously not going to become a musician." His sarcastic remarks would send me home crying. I was determined to prove to Mr. Daley that he was wrong in his judgment and I would play the pants off the exercise the next lesson. This was pretty much the way lessons went until I got to high school. Sometimes he would eat lunch while giving a lesson. In between bites Joe would correct any wrong note or phrase. I'd be playing and hear a snorting or gargling sound coming from behind me, not knowing what would come out next. I started smoking and invariably Joe would ask me for a "square." "Square" was Joe's hip word for a cigarette-since cigarettes were round, "square" was the opposite word. I continued studying with Joe until my Junior year in high school. I had always had an interest in jazz and discovered that that was Joe's real interest also. I switched to tenor sax because it was pitched in B flat like clarinet; besides Joe also played tenor. I went through Joe's entire course of study. At his last lesson he told me that he had taught me everything he knew and that in order to improve I would have to go out and blow as much as I could. I remember inviting Joe to one of my informal jazz gigs assuming that he would probably not come—but he did. He walked in just when I was about to play a solo. I was paralyzed thinking that he would rip my solo to ribbons, but instead he said "sounds good." It was the first time he ever voiced a positive reaction. Many years later my brother told me that Joe's impression of me when I first started was "Tony, your little brother has a very bright future." Joe often recommended me for jobs—sometimes I would even take his place. His confidence started me in the music business and his lectures influenced me to go to college to get a music composition degree. He invited me to play with him with the Chicago Symphony at a children's concert in 1968. We performed a composition by Gunther Schuller called "Journey Into Jazz" about a young trumpet player who grows older and older and better and better, finally making the grade. Joe's group consisted of Bobby Lewis–trumpet, Dan Shapera–bass, Hal Russell–drums, Joe–tenor sax, and me–alto sax. A funny thing happened while we were at Orchestra Hall. In the basement of the hall are lockers with tuning strobes. Both Joe and I were extremely careful to tune as perfectly as we could to A-440 before returning to the rehearsal so that the orchestra players could not say that we were out-of-tune jazz players. We were surprised when we tuned to the oboe upstairs by the variety of pitches that came out of the orchestra. They were so noticeably out-of-tune that Joe looked at me in shock. I rarely saw Joe in the next few years. We would meet on a gig or house party. Then in 1972 came the Mill Run Theatre in Niles. We played a different act every week including Liberace, Danny Thomas, Sammy Davis Jr., Lena Horne, Jack Benny and Tom Jones. One day between shows Joe, Bobby Lewis, and I were in the musicians' dressing room relaxing. The other musicians were out having lunch, drinking or whatever. Joe said "let's play." He played a rhythmic idea which Bobby took it up and developed it. I took hold of the idea and started moving it away from where Joe had started it. Bobby now was following me instead of Joe. Joe stopped abruptly, looked at me in disgust with his piercing eyes and said, "Hey man, you're not doing the thing that me and Bobby are doing." I said, defiantly, "Maybe you're not doing the thing that Bobby and I are doing." My answer broke Joe up and he said, "Wow-ee, you have arrived." Joe realized that I had developed my own voice musically. After that incident Joe and I became more than teacher-student, we were friends in the quest for musical adventures—mainly the Free Jazz movement. During this period Joe was having trouble with his second wife. He was drinking very heavily and needed a place to stay. I offered my apartment. We set up housekeeping and talked about every subject under the sun. One night after a gig we decided to experiment with our voices. We sang a jazz tune with solos one after the other. During one of my solos Joe stopped me and said that I was not making the chord changes. I argued that it was he who was not hearing the correct version of the song. We argued and argued. I told him that he should try my approach before discarding it as un-musical. He said that he would try it on the next gig. The next night after Joe's gig he told me, "Rich, I tried your suggestion. You m— you, you're no student anymore—we're equals". When I started taking lessons with Joe I idolized him (I thought of him as a god), I wanted to play exactly like him. As I got older, I no longer wanted to play like him. His exact words were, "Get your own thing happening, don't worry about criticism, play what you know, and by ear, and everything will turn out alright." Joe was rough with his students. His discipline, direction, and insight into all facets of creative music and the music business are legendary. He always spoke his mind no matter what. He was not afraid to say he was wrong. Although he would never compliment anyone to his face he would lavish praise to no end behind a person's back. On the other hand, Joe never say a bad word behind anyone's back—he would always say it to their face. He rarely showed emotion, although he had a lot of it. He could cry as well as laugh with no fear of who saw it. He was well-respected and feared for his ability, loved and hated for his candor, extremely intelligent, witty and fun to be with. It wasn't until he fell ill that I learned that he thought of me like a son. My father died when I was age 8. Now that I look back on it, I thought of Joe as a step-father. I loved him very much. Joe will live in my memory and the memories of all who came into contact with him. Copyright 1998 by Rich Corpolongo

I like this album a lot. Just listened to it last week, and will have to spin it again. Jeffrey actually plays alto clarinet on it — but, alas, no solos on that horn. Dennis O'Toole (or O'Tootle, as he's also referrred to in the liner notes) isn't the greatest drummer. He tends to drag things down from time to time, but, if memory serves, he was one of Moffett's students ... and it certainly was a generous offering from mentor to student to record! It's interesting to hear Ware in this setting, and Moffett's one vocal track (the era withstanding) isn't that bad. The first track, though — that's the one to play over and over. Very hip.

The AMG write-up, by one "Blue" Gene Tyranny, is actually pretty interesting: A mostly self-taught composer, Louis Hardin was born in Marysville, Kansas on May 26, 1916. The family eventually moved to Wyoming, where his father, who had been an Episcopalian minister, opened a trading post at Fort Bridger, and had two different ranches. Young Louis went to school in a log cabin in Burnt Fork, Wyoming, and fished, hunted and trapped. Later, he rode a horse to school in Long Tree, a cattle community. He wrote that his first drum set " ..at the age of five, was a cardboard box". He also went with his father to an Arapho Sun Dance, where he sat on Chief Yellow Calf's lap and played the buffalo skin tomtom. Later, in 1949, he played tomtom and flute at a Sun Dance held by the Blackfoot in Idaho. The constant "tomtom" beat became incorporated in many of his later pieces, such as the complex canon for marimbas "Wind River Powwow: arapa-host, arapa-home, arapa-hope". He played drums in Hurley High School in 1929, and there he lost his sight in his early teens when a dynamite cap exploded. He studied music and finished high school at the Iowa School for the Blind, and in 1933 studied braille at the Missouri School for the Blind in St. Louis. "I write all my music in braille. When I write for orchestra, I do not write scores any more, but just write out parts, for the score is in my head and just writing out the parts cuts the time and cost in half ... anyhow, if my pieces were ever in demand, a score to each could be made from the parts. I call this process ' intracting ', as opposed to the opposite, having a score and 'extracting' parts from it. From the braille I dictate every slur, tie, expression mark." It is then written in pencil by another person, read back and corrected, then inked in by another person - " .. double trouble ". Hardin lived in Batesville, Arkansas until 1942 when he got a scholarship to study in Memphis. However, he mostly taught himself ear training and other musical skills and theory from books in braille. In the fall of 1943, he came to New York and met Artur Rodzinski, Leonard Bernstein, and then Toscanini. In a legendary story, Hardin made to kiss Toscanini's hand " ... whereupon he pulled it away, saying,' I am not a beautiful woman ' ". Hardin began using the name Moondog as a pen name since 1947 in honor of a dog "who used to howl at the moon more than any dog I knew of". His music, constructed of direct musical gestures and built mostly from pure modal themes expanded by sophisticated counterpuntal techniques, would now receive the avant-garde label of "minimal" or pattern music but this sound has characterized his music since the late 1940's, and is thus a precursor of this postmodern compositional style. In New York, Moondog began to meet legendary jazz performer-composers, such as Charlie Parker and Benny Goodman, and to incorporate jazz inflections as well as humorous philosophical couplets and environmental sounds into his recorded compositions - the early recordings on the Prestige label in 1956 - 57 contain brief pieces such as "Up Broadway / The impressions of Moondog as he passes Birdland and the Palladium up the great White Way ... (a) Broadway and 52nd St. The Jazz Corner of the World. A dog trot in 1/4 time ... (b) Broadway and 53rd St, the Afro-Cuban Corner of the World - A bumbo in 4/4 time ..." and a duet for the whistle of the ocean liner the Queen Elizabeth and a bamboo flute. Moondog also sold his printed music and records as well as performed on the streets of Manhattan. His music truly expressed a universal vision with the best of American musical sensibilities. Moondog passed away on September 8th, 1999 in Germany at the age of 83.

Finally ordered my first Moondog disc today. I don't know what took me so long ...