JSngry

Oh yeah, this guy was part of my formative musical years, so agin, I have no problem with electronics, in jazz or otherwise. And if this isn't jazz, I'm ok with that too, I'm ok with anything I'm ok with.

Appreciate the input here, thanks.

Dude, I hears Sextant a few years before I heard Maiden Voyage, Black Is The Color even more years before Inner Urge, Svengali at least as many years before Out Of The Cool, so...no I don't feel that way. To me it's just another palate. Totally respect that not everybody hears it like that, but that's what I hear, just more sounds to work with.

And that brings to mind that although I have record-hunted/bottom fed so much over the years in search of music, it's been just as much fun going into these, uh, "odd" places and thrift stores and dustymusty mom/pops and soaking up the ambiance, the smells, the different people and the distinctive (or in some cases. "distinctive") people and personalities, owners and customers both. Nicholas Potter in 1983 was a quirky guy, ok, but look at him now, he's still got that quirk and is making it work for him. Not everybody has, alas. Lord knows, I like "characters", and between musicians and record stores and different loyalists of each, it's been a virtual feast of them. Standardization of businesses is effieint and all that, but it decreases the Quirk Factor to an exponentially negative degree, imo. Then again, I'm getting old. Tempus fugit, etc.

I found mine in Santa Fe, a place called Nicholas Potter, Bookseller. Still in business apparently. They was almost entirely a boodsore, obviously, but had a little bin of used LPs in the back, of which this was one. Noonah was another, I forget what all else. I bought what they had that I liked, came back six months later and the stock had not changed one bit, so the records must have been some wierd afterthought of a collection dump, I guess. I'm wanting to say that there was a fair amount of classical in that mix, and I wish I had more curiosity about that music then, because if that selection was of the same caliber as the jazz...oh well, no sense crying over split milk, right? Anyway, here the guy is today, dig it.

I have the LPs too, but my copy of At 12 is an original fatass vinyl in a laminated cover and my copy of Crisis is a promo copy in some weirdass quad-compatible mix, both bought, oddly enough, at the same visit to Stan's Record Store in downtown Shreveport, with R*B 45s pumping non-stop in the store at full volume and the Jewel-Paula offices right next door.. Ambiance out the ass! But between portability of the one and a hopefully tighter mix on the other, I'll get this reissue at some point along the way. It's functionality plays to my current lifestyle.

Really! I've only seen one copy, and I bought it on the spot. That was in, like, 1983 or so. Are you sure all those sealed copies you're finding today are legit?

Sure estates can be wronged, and they can seek - and get - remediation. Point just being that they're going to have to make their point in terms of the original legalities were not right in the first place. Friends and Neighbors was another one that Ornette claimed was not legit, and it got to CD. So...Ornette and Bob Thiele, some kind of story there, and maybe Cuscuna handling the impulse! reissues but not the RCA/Flying Dutchman reissues was the, uh, swing factor. Maybe he could have done it had he wanted, but he's a sensitive motherfucker, history has shown that Michael Cuscuna has been.

In terms of Ornette's estate, I have no idea. Ornette chafed at them forever, which I think is why they never got reissued in his lifetime. But - he's dead now. Turning point! As far as label-to-label, Real Gone does it right in terms of licensing.

The wife and I are finally realizing that we need to have disposal plans in place for our bodies when they die. We both favor cremation and also favor pre-paid burial/etc plans. We keep getting mailings from The Neptune Society and were just wondering how legit these guys were. Seems like I've heard of them for a while now, but it also seems like their profile is rising as more people appear to be favoring cremation. So....does anybody here have experience with them? Are they on the level and reliable? Will they still be here when we aren't? I know my folks had pre-paid funeral/burial plans that ended up being of invaluable comfort and assistance when they passed. Would like to have the cremation equivalent for our kids, if possible.

Wow...no, not at all. Things were getting loud before that atomic bomb. Things were getting quiet before the atomic bomb. But the atomic bomb and all that came along and after it, that was a fulcrum point. Of course it was, don't think it can be anything else. Life was already getting loud, and WWII was aloud war between loud peoples. It had a very loud ending, and loud creates ripples. Of course people wanted quiet when they got loud. And of course loud kept getting louder the more people wanted quiet. And of course both things happened concurrently. How could they not? People never get what they want, they get what they want to get away from. We are hunters and prey at once. As for that Goodman cut, gotta be this that or another you never will be, ha, I wish there was a movie orchestra that played like that. Don't know how much written ensemble music you listen to or how you listen to it, that's your business, not mine, but that band's blend and precision is really remarkable. And it swings, maybe not BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM swing, but people talk about how tight the Glenn Miller band was (and it was, the airshots are a marvel at times), but the Miller band just did not swing the way this band did (if they swung at all, somebody once said here a long time ago that no, they didn't swing, they rocked, and maybe so). What's the point of having charts if you're not going to dig into them and make them speak? Those weren't head charts, riff excursions, jamming frameworks, those were purposeful self-contained works. The degree of detail in how Goodman got his band to play them is not at all common. If you think it's loud, listen to how it's loud, there are different types of loud, different ways to balance the balances, blends and attacks. Loud is not just a matter of decibels, ok?

If he is juicing, and continues to do so next year, he'll not prove he's not juicing by having the same type of perfomance. Has the guy's physique undergone any noticeable changes since his minor league days?

I fully intend to. It's gotta come to Netflix, right?

It's not a stimulus without reactons, whatever they are.

Well, that took long enough!

There's definitely a difference, I get that. I love the way the band evolved, though, the charts got better, the band got better, the sections got tighter, dynamics got more nuanced, everything just evolved. As a soloist's band, eh..., but for ensemble playing, that band got to it's own zone. No band did that thing better, Ever, Understand that it's not to everybody's tastes, an evolution of that nature, and I'd certainly not want all "big band" music to go like that, but it seems to have been right in line with Goodman's own personality. He had his own unique pocket, tempo, pulse, phrasing, quirky balance between absolute precision and definite swing pulsation,and his band played like him. And Toots Mondello, unsung hero, that sax section keeps sounding better to me as time goes by. I keep coming back to this one cut..when you listen to the zone that band is in...it's a perfect unity, no detail left unexamined and refined just so. and it swings like a mofo in that quietly fastidious Benny Goodman way. Dave Tough! That's one helluva chart (Eddie Sauter, iirc), one helluva band. Dave Tough, Jimmy Maxwell, Toots Mondello. And impeccably recorded. That's not even on the set, but this is, and again, this has to be a band at the apex of doing that unique, Goodman-specific thing. I'm in a phase right now where "orchestral" playing interests me quite a bit, section work, integrations of orchestrations and micro-timings to create a unified compositional performance. This band, they were doing that.

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/07/18/us/frances-gabe-dead-inventor-of-self-cleaning-house.html?rref=collection%2Fsectioncollection%2Fobituaries&action=click&contentCollection=obituaries&region=stream&module=stream_unit&version=latest&contentPlacement=5&pgtype=sectionfront “Locally, she was just the kind of unique person that you often see in these small towns,” Allyn Brown, Ms. Gabe’s former lawyer and a longtime friend, said in a telephone interview last week. “I don’t think anybody really knew her name.” There was a time, however, when Ms. Gabe’s name was known round the world. In the late 20th and early 21st centuries, her house was featured in newspapers and magazines including The New York Times, The Guardian and People; on Phil Donahue’s talk show; and in several books, among them Chuck Palahniuk’s “Fugitives & Refugees” (2003), about the curious characters around Portland, Ore. “When I’d come out and see her,” Mr. Brown recalled, “I would be conflicted on whether she was delusional or whether she was so much smarter than I that I just didn’t have the ability to recognize her genius.”........ n a 1982 column about Ms. Gabe’s work, the humorist Erma Bombeck proposed her as “a new face for Mount Rushmore.” Yet her remarkable abode — a singular amalgam of “Walden,” Rube Goldberg and “The Jetsons” — remained the only one of its kind ever built. The reasons, recent interviews with her associates suggest, include the difficulties of maintaining the patent, the compromises required of the homeowner and, just possibly, Ms. Gabe’s contrary, proudly iconoclastic temperament. “She was very difficult to get along with,” Mr. Brown said, warmly. “She had an adversarial relationship with all her neighbors and she didn’t do anything to discourage it.” Perhaps it was the cement mixer residing permanently in Ms. Gabe’s yard that inflamed the neighbors so. (It was essential to her house-building enterprise.) Perhaps it was the series of snarling Great Danes she kept. Perhaps it was her penchant, at least in her younger days, for doing her yard work in the nude......... A cinder-block bungalow of about a thousand square feet, Ms. Gabe’s house was completed in the 1980s, at a cost of $15,000, after more than 10 years of work and decades of planning. The result, the newspaper The Weekend Australian wrote in 2004, was “basically a gigantic dishwasher.” In each room, Ms. Gabe, tucked safely under an umbrella, could press a button that activated a sprinkler in the ceiling. The first spray sent a mist of sudsy water over walls and floor. A second spray rinsed everything. Jets of warm air blew it all dry. The full cycle took less than an hour. Runoff escaped through drains in Ms. Gabe’s almost imperceptibly sloping floors. It was channeled outside and straight through her doghouse, where the dog was washed in the bargain......... Her efforts also received little support from her community. “One time I had a group of furious housewives on my doorstep, telling me I was doing them out of a job and that if they didn’t have to clean their houses, their husbands wouldn’t need them anymore,” Ms. Gabe told The Guardian in 2006. “And I said, ‘Well, if you had more time to spend with your husbands, don’t you think they would like that better?’ ”......... Ms. Gabe held fast to her house for as long as she could. About eight years ago, her family arranged for her to move — kicking and screaming, a grandson, Kevin Selander, said last week — to a nursing home. Ms. Gabe’s children, Grant Bateson and Lourene Bateson Selander, died before her. Besides Mr. Selander, who confirmed her death, in a hospice in Newberg, her survivors include 10 other grandchildren and many great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren. Her property was sold some years ago, though the house still stands. “There’s kind of a hippie guy living there and he likes the place,” Mr. Selander said. He will be obliged, though, to clean it himself. Today, no suds descend, no cleansing showers come, no dog enjoys collateral washing. Born of figs and fury, the self-cleaning house now exists in public memory only in dreams — much as it did for so long in Ms. Gabe’s mind: dewy with mist, quixotically clean.

Garish is no doubt subjective, but "movie soundtrack" is not...does this sound like any of that, even randy borrks? Your ears may vary, of course. Maybe we're comparing apples and...pickles? No matter, ignore Dick Haymes at your peril.