7/4

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Know what? There's actually people in the audience digging that shit. Woah...

I took a lesson from Glenn Alexander maybe 20 years ago.

Try the board search engine. .

I thought so too. But I saw some similarities between the posts of ChaunceyMorehouse and another member a few days ago that lead me to think otherwise. One would think that a moderator would put an end to that Chauncey nonsense. It's like tracking down the unibomber, I tell ya.

A common sound on the lower east side. With the real estate boom on in that neighborhood, these are the end times for that kind of activity.

Oh yes. I've heard a bit of the Tesutti album. He bows modified guitars.

Nice review!

Now why did you have to go and do that... .

DMG processes the orders for Tzadik so it's almost the same thing. .

Thanks guys....they're right. .

sop-ra-nin-o. .

palm shaver. .

Yep. His faith kept him alive. Sounds like something outta the movies.

dig this photo from the NYT article about his funeral: The Stax Museum of American Soul Music in Memphis paid tribute to Isaac Hayes. A funeral was held on Monday in nearby Cordova. August 19, 2008 Hollywood Joins Memphis for a Farewell to Isaac Hayes By SHAILA DEWAN CORDOVA, Tenn. — It was easy to tell the Hollywood Scientologists from the Memphis music people as they passed the gantlet of television cameras and entered the suburban Memphis megachurch to pay tribute to Isaac Hayes. They were on the whole paler and skinnier and showed rather more cleavage than is considered properly funereal here in the South. The Memphians, on the other hand, tended toward vintage dresses and dark three-piece suits with expertly origamied handkerchiefs and matching ties. Then there was the soul royalty, like Bootsy Collins, who wore a get-up involving wide pinstripes, a kerchief, and rhinestone-coated sunglass lenses with peepholes in the shape of stars, and the actual royalty, like Princess Naa Asie Ocansey of Ghana, who wore gold and red African finery and managed to get surprisingly low to the ground when she danced. But there were also thousands of regular people, wearing regular clothes, who poured into the sanctuary of the Hope Presbyterian Church. For a superstar known for his slick image and “bedroom baritone,” as one speaker called it, Mr. Hayes was deeply involved in the workaday life of his hometown, where he recently appeared on a billboard with a local congressman, Steve Cohen, who was fighting off a challenger. The billboard read, “Can you dig it?” Mr. Hayes was also involved in literacy programs in Memphis schools, and in 1997, he and Lisa Marie Presley started the Church of Scientology Mission of Memphis. “Isaac was not only a famous musician, but he was an accessible famous musician in his hometown,” said David Porter, with whom Mr. Hayes wrote “Soul Man” and other hits for Stax, the recording studio that defined what came to be known as the Memphis sound. The first glimpse of Mr. Hayes, in a video clip from “Wattstax,” the 1972 concert in response to the Los Angeles riots, showed him in a multicolored cape that reached the floor. But people here knew him in a less glamorous light. One attendee, Cora Williams, 88, said she had known Mr. Hayes as a child in Covington, Tenn., when their families attended church and singalongs together. Another guest, Elvis Calvin, said: “I pulled Isaac out of a hole. He got stuck in the mud in his Lincoln, and we pulled him out. He came to the house. I got photos from that day.” This feat apparently earned Mr. Calvin, a funeral director in Coldwater, Miss., a seat in the V.I.P. section. Mr. Hayes returned to his hometown seven years ago, after a stint in New York, mostly to be closer to his 11 children and 16 grandchildren. He died at 65, after a stroke on Aug. 10 in his home. There was oration by the Revs. Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson, and musical interludes by Chick Corea, Kirk Whalum and Doug E. Fresh, the original human beatbox. The jumbled hoopla seemed fitting for Mr. Hayes, a man who shaved his head at a time when Afros were chic, and cut an 18-minute track when songs were radio-ready at three minutes and change. The stories fit into two general categories. Anne Archer and Kelly Preston, both actresses and Scientologists, detailed Mr. Hayes’s humanitarian work here and in Africa, while Al Bell, a co-owner of Stax, told how he came up with the name of Mr. Hayes’s first big album, “Hot Buttered Soul,” from a magazine advertisement for hot buttered rum. Afterward, when asked what he made of the two factions coming together on one stage, Mr. Porter laughed. “Each of those components,” he said, “loved Isaac Hayes.” On stage, the Rev. Alfreddie Johnson, a Scientologist, explained how Mr. Hayes might have become interested in the religion in the early 1990s, when he was filming a movie scene in the hotel in the Scientology Celebrity Center International in Los Angeles. Mr. Johnson was coming out of the bathroom. “He came up to me,” Mr. Johnson recalled, “and he said, ‘Brother to brother, what are these white folks doing up in here?’ ” Mr. Johnson told him that he was teaching Scientology learning techniques to gang members in Compton, Calif., in an effort to get them off the streets. Word that a Scientology minister would be presiding over the tribute on Monday produced angry chatter on the Internet aimed at the religion, which some people consider to be a manipulative cult, and at the Christian church that agreed to play host to the program. Though that report proved to be incorrect, the audience seemed apprehensive when Scientologists, who spoke openly about their faith, were on stage. Local anecdotes drew a warmer response. Craig Brewer, the Memphis filmmaker best known for “Hustle and Flow,” said he had insisted that the role of the bartender in that movie be cast with a local actor. It went to Mr. Hayes. In an interview before the program, Mr. Brewer said that even among the outsize characters of the Memphis music world, Mr. Hayes stood out as an original. “You take Elvis Presley, B. B. King, Johnny Cash. After a while, Memphis was like a conveyor belt for these personalities. Boy, did Isaac come along and blindside everyone.” Mr. Brewer noted Mr. Hayes’s knack for turning the tables. “In a place that has a history of white artists taking black musical styles and making money off them, here is Hayes taking Glen Campbell songs and Burt Bachrach songs and making them so much his own that you question their origin,” he said.

I'm not familiar with this album they made together, maybe someone else is: August 19, 2008 Music Review | Ron Miles and Bill Frisell Two’s a (Quietly Harmonious) Crowd By NATE CHINEN Some partnerships in jazz go beyond sensitivity or even shared intuition. At their best they can suggest something more mysterious, like weather patterns. When you encounter a bond of this sort between musicians operating at full capacity, the air changes slightly in the room. The trumpeter Ron Miles and the guitarist Bill Frisell have one of these relationships, stretching back at least a dozen years. Each has appeared on the other’s albums, and in 2002 they made a quietly sublime duo record, “Heaven.” For a few nights last week they also shared a stage at the Jazz Standard, in a flexible quartet under Mr. Miles’s direction. On Thursday, closing out the engagement, they confirmed the strength of their rapport. Both musicians can be counted on to express a spirit of harmonious introspection. The set’s opener, “Unconditional,” a drifting waltz by Mr. Miles, presented some warm and characteristic beauty, along with a deceptively simple form. Soloing on cornet, Mr. Miles was lyrical and sensible, conjugating his ideas in an easy flow, one phrase at a time. Mr. Frisell accompanied him intently: more than once he landed on an unusual chord at the precise moment that Mr. Miles needed it to bolster a melodic whim. The quartet’s attentive other half created necessary ballast. Though not a regular rhythm team, the bassist Reginald Veal and the drummer Matt Wilson worked sturdily together, bringing a sense of earthy proportion to Mr. Miles’s summery compositions. Their most engaging work, though, came on a pair of crisply swinging jazz tunes: “Wig Wise,” by Duke Ellington, and “Criss Cross,” by Thelonious Monk. Those tunes also sparked assertive work from Mr. Miles and Mr. Frisell, often in a conversational overlap. “Criss Cross” was especially fruitful, given its sharp intervals and halting syncopations. Mr. Frisell left plenty of space in his solo, enjoying the effervescent undercurrent, while Mr. Miles enlivened his more fluid outpouring with clever rhythmic displacements. (It’s no accident that Monk has long been a favorite of them both.) But there was greater chance for alchemy on a pair of originals in the middle of the set. During a wholesome-sounding tune called “Glass Jaw,” the band tumbled through a recurring set of key modulations, set over a fluttering rock groove. And on “Marianetta,” a slow-drip waltz with a poplike but shifting chord structure, Mr. Miles and Mr. Frisell each fashioned lovely and coherent choruses, as if in thoughtful dialogue.

Burhan Öçal - Orient Secret

Those early Nonesuch albums were part of my youth because my Dad had the classical stuff and I'd see the modern music listed on the inner sleeves. And then later I'd see them real cheap in the used bins at the Princeton Record Exchange...so Erb is one of those guys on those albums.

I thought you had to be a subscriber. MG It's a readers poll!

I'm listening to Reconnaissance /In No Strange Land, from a Nonesuch album I remember from when I was a little kid. Described as For Musical Instruments and Electronic Sound and written in 67/68, this was when the Moog synth was a new instrument and everyone was excited about the possibilities...we're pretty jaded about synths these days. Sounds interesting to me...

Robert Williams and John Lydon on Judge Judy! .

Fortunately I can just pop next door to the library to check out this magazine. And I just placed my vote on line.

This is Solzhenitsyn the tenor player? .