JSngry

And if we have to talk about "white singers" (which really, what does that mean, that they come out of a factory?) how many would sing this this song without any "cuteness" to there time or enunciation (which is more than you can completely say about the band). My god, she swung in the most natural of ways, no need to be anything other than her own sweet self. The phrases just rolled out like a feather on the wind, only a feather that knew exactly where it was going to land and hen. She's so unique that way, when she lands, she lands, and everything in between is float. I don't know if it qualifies as "jazz" or not, but jeezus, what difference does it make, somebody has this kind of feel, I'm not going to look for an excuse to not embrace it as fully as possible.

Time to post this again.The closer you listen, the better it gets. and this, this is about the most difficult tempo there is, imo (and perhaps all but extinct?). And she is in there. All the way. and here again: I can certainly see how you can sing those songs differently. I don't see how you can sing them better. At the time, you would have had Axel Stordahl, Paul Weston, and...????? For this kind of gig.

I do more research on Monk Higgins (aka Milton Bland), Wally Roker, and Dee Irvin, and a picture continues to emerge.... The best I can say is that they were precursors to the Mizell Brothers, at least in terms of Blue Note.wanting do do "something like that".

That was the red one, right?

Am I reading the AMG right that the Burns thing has no Prestige material on it? That's not a disqualifier, of course, but damn, that's some consistently excellent Monk! Zappa was my link between Hendrix and jazz. Funny how that works. What I didn't realize until decades later was that Zappa was also my gateway to "modern classical music". Took me a while to see that gate, much less walk through it. But revisting Lumpy Gravy & Uncle Meat a few moths ago, yeah, ok, I knew I had hear that "thing" somewhere before!

Oh, I love the Blue Note stuff as a whole, but at least as much in terms of "things to come" as what's actually there. Of course, the longer you listen to it, the more it all comes into place, and everybody who's serious about Monk needs to get to that stuff, needs to. That and the Minton's things. But, case in point - "Evidence". I heard the BN version first, and had no idea what the real head was until a few years later. I got that something magical was going on, but the realist in me had a need to know what was making that magic happen. Were they working off a pitch sequence with no rhythm or what? Who had the lead, Bags or Monk? What was the basis for this open/deep-ended piece of music? Then once hearing the real head, BAM! everything snapped into place. What was magic then became highly advanced science. I'm the type of guy who loves magic, but only for so long. Also, some of the earliest stuff is just not gelled, the players are very much feeling their way through it, which is a delightful thing to hear when you know how those stories develop and end, but that's a different lesson, right? The BN "Round Midnight", my god, Sahib Shihab became a wonderful player, but before that, this. No idea why, but it took me a whole to consider that there might have been a reason other than uh. Or maybe they're not yet removed from the whole "swing-to-bop" thing, which makes for a delightful piece of historical window-ism, but not everybody's looking for that, right? The best of the Blue Note stuff doesn't need those considerations. I just worry about giving somebody with no real background of the whole Monk thing a chronological set and expect them to be fully wowed just because. In a perfect world, that works, but...

Bingo!

I'm wondering if the level of choreography (and I use that term to refer to all the coordinated body movements, including facial expressions) shown in this videos was something they just did for this TV or if it was a part of their club act at the time, for some or all numbers. Specifically, I'm wondering if Rob & Laura got the inspiration for their their bit directly from Jackie & Roy.

Interesting...did you notice the difference between LP sound/cut lengths and those of the 78s in any way? Just wondering, because for me, I did, at first anyway, and not always positively. Also, though, the first LPs of the BN material (the old "red and green ones") were in no way chronologically programmed, and that was a distraction for me. Not until the 70s 2-fer did they get grouped by session order, and that helped me a lot. Just asking, because so often when asked for recs for a new listener, we reflexively want to start them at the beginning, and that's an iffy proposition sometimes. But you never know!

Had you heard any other Monk before actually buying anything?

I wonder how many people of our ages actually started hearing Monk with the BN sides vs how many came to them with at least a little awareness of what was to follow.

I think that's a good thought. Distance leads - or should led to - familiarity. Mysteries become less mysterious as mechanics are revealed. Magic is wonderful, but it's meant for the moment.

I've never gotten bitten by Bailey, nor wrapped up in Wiley, but Helen Forrest...hell yeah. These arrangements, they don't bother me, but I can see how they could be a distraction for some. But check her out with Goodman & Shaw, she was the/a real deal. Her time had a float that those two didn't, and with the right pulse underneath it...yeah. And she could really work vowels.

If you're going to have that much time on your hands, go to the link and grab the whole thing. It's a good read, and a long one.

Before my life ends, I want to become THE Google Whisperer.

https://www.amazon.de/Mangelsdorff-Originals-Vol-1-Albert/dp/B001BL8ESM

Here, take him.

Yeah, Hawk!

Haven't read that one, but did, for some reason, buy the Lookout Farm book back in the day and was immediately taken with just how aware of things Liebman was. At the time, I figured him to be one of these guys who played out of exercise books and Coltrane solos because that was "what we do", but reading this, it was like, whoa this guy is more than that. I've held him inincreasingly higher regard as time has passed, especially when he to the step of putting his tenor away for a looooong time because he felt the need to develop a truly personal voice, and that that was going to be on soprano. That was a ballsy thing to do, an adult thing to do, and artist's thing thing to do. https://www.amazon.com/Lookout-Study-Improvisation-Collective-Experience/dp/B000K5W6VQ I don't feel bad about not liking his playing more than I do (and I don't dislike it, it just doesn't grab me like some other players do, it's not him, it's me), I don't need to like his playing to feel a lot of respect for the guy as a human. That's far more important than liking his playing, I think. Hell, not everybody plays, but everybody is a human. At least to this point...

It was pretty semi-detailed, but I don't remember at all what it was.

Sonny once again showing himself to be an absolute master of space and time.

I've lived with the BN material for, jeez, how long has it been now, 40 years? and although it's undeniably of huge historical significance, for "fun" listening, I've always always preferred the Prestige and Riverside dates. I don't know that 78s of not always fully comfortable executions of this material is what a (probably) recreational listener is going to glom onto right away. But then again, maybe so, people are funny! And the right selection of BN material can be pretty damn powerful. But contrary to the mythology, they're not all "of a piece". Too bad they've not made this into a CD. It was the first Mnk reccord I got, and it did its job remarkably well.

On the one hand, who cares, right? But otoh, I know so many players from the Liebman/Grossman lineage who just don't get it, and who are actually hostile to Braxton. They should read this and take it seriously. Extracted from: https://tedpanken.wordpress.com/2016/09/04/for-dave-liebmans-70th-birthday-a-downbeat-article-from-2010-an-uncut-blindfold-test-and-a-conversation-from-the-jazz-com-zine/ Anthony Braxton, “Composition 40 (O)” (Dortmund (Quartet) 1976, Hat Art, 1991) (Braxton, soprano saxophone, contrabass saxophone; George Lewis, trombone; Dave Holland, bass; Barry Altschul, drums) If it’s not Anthony Braxton, I don’t know who it is. And that’s maybe George Lewis? Only because I don’t know who else… Steve Swell plays like that. These guys are masters of this shit. That head! It’s absurd, how much practice they must have done to get that head together. It reminds me of Lee and Warne 80 years later, how much Lee and Warne Marsh must have worked on their heads. This has to be similar. I mean, they’re amazingly together. Then the bass joins in. It’s unbelievable. And the rhythms, the choice of notes… From a saxophone standpoint, the articulation that Anthony is capable of, single-tonguing…it appears to be single-tonguing… I can’t speak that fast, let alone play that fast. I can’t say tatatatata as far as he was doing. Of course, he went from I guess soprano or sopranino, some weird thing, to that contra-contra, whatever the hell bass-something-or-other that he got. Then they go into the texture stuff, with the mutes, with the trombone, and then all the farting and shmooching and stuff that’s going on… These are guys are experts at sound sources, at colors, at wide intervals, difficult intervals, and odd rhythm…I don’t mean odd rhythm in the sense of the modern guys…I mean, odd, up-and-down, weird, amazing stuff. I totally supported and was part of the decision to give Anthony the NEA. I was so glad that he was there. He did talk a lot at the ceremony… But he is a great guy, and definitely has made a contribution. There’s no question about it. Once we had a repartee at the Banff Institute when he was a guest, and he said to me, “Would you tell me how you play on ‘Impressions?’” Because I’m like post-Coltrane stuff and everything. So we had a little session. I usually play drums and then I talk about what you’re playing, etc., etc. Then he said, in that scholarly way, in the way he has of speaking, and the expression on his face was classic… He said: “You know, we had the same problem. The same challenge. We’re from the same generation.” I said, “What was that, Anthony?” He said, “John Coltrane. And we handled it in two very distinctly different ways. I went to Stockhausen and you went more inside it. Very curious. Very interesting.” I’ll never forget that, because it’s absolutely true. Being from that generation and having grown up in the ‘60s and heard Trane, seen Trane, tasted Trane, you had to deal with him if you played anything close to that instrument, let alone music, just like they had to deal with Charlie Parker. So that was very interesting. One last thing is, once I remember he gave me a list of what he called “sound sources” on the saxophone, and 75 things from attacks to delays. Some I had no idea what he was talking about. But it goes to show his immersion in using the many woodwinds he plays in, let’s say, extra-musical ways—meaning as sound sources. Things that would not have been thought of. Now, of course, you’ve got to go back to the original avant-garde, the ‘60s, Archie and of course Albert, to find the sources of using the instrument in ways that were not orthodox. But Anthony definitely took it to another level, and he’s been doing it for 40 years. I give it to him. This is 5 stars because of the way they played, man. They played unbelievable. [Were you listening to this when it was happening?] No. I was aware of it, and I’m aware of him, but I can’t say… He’s very prolific. Like in my case, he does so much, you don’t know what years… But it’s live, too. It’s unbelievable. It’s live. [This is 1976.] That’s at the height of this stuff. That was the second-generation free guys. By the ‘70s, it had been distilled down to…the basic elements were already present by then. They were being experimented with from Cecil and Ornette on, and of course with Trane, late Trane and his inclusion of everybody on Ascension. But by the time we get to the ‘70s… The ‘80s is a different story. Then you have the next generation distilling it even further. The other thing about this is that composition becomes equally prevalent to the improvisation. Which now is very much on the map. Oh, everybody writes long heads; boy, oh, boy, it’s composition. But this is 1976, and those guys are playing the heads that go on for 2-3-4 minutes, and it stays on track and sounds so TOGETHER, man! And it’s live. You would say it was edited. But it’s live. It’s unbelievable. I love it. Was that Dave Holland? Barry? Nice. [George and Dave Holland have said that Braxton would write 50 pages and present it at the soundcheck.] Well, they did their job. They could all read and play great. I really enjoyed the way they played, and where they went group-wise and how they went into different areas. Again, the color. Color as an element of music. Look, it starts from the first aboriginal guy. There’s a color. He’s hitting on the ground. But the use of color as a device for composition, let alone improvisation, is basically something that is a 20th century phenomenon. The color of an orchestra in the 1700s and 1800s, and Bach on an organ…yes, of course. But the use of color as color, like Varese and Stockhausen, just that…we’re going to go to that texture and use that… That’s what Anthony copped. He copped, “We can make color.” Just the mute in the trombone and the staccato in the soprano is a color, even beyond what they’re playing. It becomes the prevalent thing you hear. You’re not hearing harmony. You’re not hearing melody. You’re hearing rhythm to a certain degree, of course. Everything is rhythm, if it’s two notes. But you’re really hearing color as an absolute, on-the-map, top… Melody-harmony-rhythm, it’s a great triumvirate. Color, right up there. These guys know how to do that. I’ll tell you one last story about Anthony. When Bob Moses and I tried to form a cooperative, because we felt it was time for us to get out of the lofts and play for people (this was 1970), we called a meeting of all the cats who had been hanging at my loft and his loft. Among them was Michael Brecker and Bob Berg…there were 30 guys sitting on the floor of my loft on 19th Street. Moses invited Anthony to come up and talk to us, and Leroy Jenkins—two different occasions. Leroy came at 7 o’clock, and Anthony came at 10 o’clock. Leroy was on the verge of racist. He was like, “You have to have grass roots and meaning…” I don’t know what the hell he came up there for, to basically say, “You can’t do it because you don’t have a raison d’etre. You don’t have no political…” Remember, this is ‘70, this is the height of the shit. Then Anthony comes up at 10 o’clock, peace-and-love, do-your-thing, go-for-it… I’ll never forget. He was so positive. We’re all 22 years old, basically trying to get our lives together and find a way to play in a very bad period of jazz, which was the late ‘60s-early ‘70s, as you know, before the fusion thing hits. Business is bad, and here we are playing that kind of stuff, or trying to. And Anthony is completely supportive. I’ll never forget that from him. We reminisced at the NEA about these things. I’m very glad he got the award.

Hey, there's always those off-brand PD releases.