JSngry

Hannigan finitely on the radar now. Yesterday's Saturday night at the movies also included this double feature from Mode: two French documentaries from 1965-66, both fascinating beyond my expectations. Lol'ed at Varese himself saying that if people do not like his work that they have a right to vomit it, but before they vomit it, they have to swallow it. Massive amounts of performance/rehnearsal footages too, and seeing the people that Stockhausen hired in 1965 to prtfom Momente...it's almost Python-esque.

Don Freidman, Barre Phillips, & Daniel Humiar...did not know such a record existed onto last year. On Emarcy, no less. Notes by Hall Overton. works very well as a companion album to Friedman's Metamorphosis, an album which seemed too unique to not have a companion somewhere. Well, hereit is.

Yep!

Moviegoers Everywhere One Nation Under A Groove Richard Holmes

Flashbulbs, wow, what a concept nowadays. Visceral, totally analog. Heat, light, smoke even, all in the service of stealing you soul. Tremble in awe, mortals, tremble in awe. This might be something I want to read. Stan Levey always swung as a drummrr, and I've yet to meet a real photographer who wasn't aware of the power they yielded.

Did not know about that one, $7.51 @ Amazon, no-brainer oneclick Thanks, Jeff!

Brookmeyer raging within himself, hey ok. Brookmeyer not digging Gene Ammons to whatever degree, ok, whatever. Brookmeyer personally pissing on somebody else because THEY dig Gene Ammons, sorry, but Fuck You, Judge Jazz, not your jurisdiction bitch, get back on your own goddamn bench. Why does nobody voice the likely possibility that apart from all his genuine gifts, the guy sure seems to have had abusive tendecies, not just an opinionated asshole, hey that's no sin, but genuine abusiveness, which does not rule out otherwise being great at a lot of things. But jeseus, people talk about the Buddy Ruch bus tapes like the guy was clinical, but Buddy was just one intense motherfucker. At everything. No illusions about Buddy. Brookmeyer really does seem to have been clinical about this shit, why doesn't anybody frame it like that and let's all disabuse ourselves of the cloud of hmmm and just move on? Are his "lost years" a secret, or what. No matter, Gene Ammons matters to me in a way that Bob Brookmeyer does not, so hey.

Listening and watching: a wee bit hypey, maybe, but such are the times, so ok. Certainly just a wee bit and not one bit more. Beautiful Faure. Plus, captioning on for Mysteries Of The Macabre = beautifully a-HA. Plus rehearsal/practice/workshop footages always a treat. Plus, Concrrt Romanesc, I had no idea. It left me better than it found me, so hey, thank you, dvd.

This record should not have been made. Not this type of record, just not this record. It too often sounds like Sonny is a sideman on his own record, a punched in sideman at that. There are also moments where he sounds relaxed-y enough, but....no. Lose Lee Ritenour, Patrice Rusheen, and Billy Cobham (from this record) and lose Wade Marcus (from any record afaic), bring in, say, George Duke and Tony Williams, play the same material live in the studio, and even if it doesn't click, at least it won't be this. But this is this, so oh well. Back on the shelf for another 10 or more years. This may be the last time, hopefully it is.

Keep counting!

Also, I have Beaucoup love and respect for Bob Brookmeyer, literally one of the first 25 or so jazz musicians I heard once I wanted to hear jazz (thank you, Side Two of California Concerts) and somebody whose work I've never been alienated by, but he did seem to be somebody for whom Personal Opinion & Absolute Opinion were the same thing, and even at that, hey have fun with that, but calling somebody out for digging Gene Ammons, hey, fuck you, Judge Jazz, bullshit called, and not even collect. I hold you in contempt and sentence you to one solid fuckoff. Deal with it, your honor Case closed, court adjugged.

My motto is Fuck Judge Jazz, which is probably just a more aggressive version of yours.

I have loved everything I've experienced about Chicago, really have. But I've never lived there. Now, I can go deep about where I have lived, but...just saying, if I wanted to commiserate with fellow Gene Ammons lovers, I would neither expect every jazz lover/musician to show up, nor would I fell ill towards those who didn't - except for the ones who gonna start talking shit about it. And to them my first question would be, based on what, exactly, are you talking all this shit? And a motherfucker better have a nuanced realitylifebased answer at the immediate ready or else, you know, BRRRRRRRRKKKKK disqualified, get the fuck out of my face, next. Gene Ammons' music was no more (or less) difficult than everyday life, so the only valid answer is a simple acknowledgment that the everyday life which he spoke so vividly of is not everybody's, just acknowledge that and it's all good. But get all snittybitchy and act like Judge Jazz, King One Size Fits All, hey, fuck that, I am not in the mood for that. NOT in the mood.

Yeah, well, there's another one I spent a couple weeks in Des Plaines and have had stopovers at both airports, so let me give you my opinion about Chicago.

One of those records where how much your can enjoy it is probably governed by how much you are disappointed in it. There is enjoyment to be had though, from both Sonny and Tony Williams. As for the disappointmen that this was/is not a/the Sonny Is God record, oh well. Sometimes forrest, sometimes trees, just be there where it is, and realize that nobody before during or since could deliver the title tune even remotely like that.

Bob Brookmeyer had an opinion about Gene Ammons? Based on what, exactly?

Have not knowingly heard Jerry McKenzie outside of Kenton, in whose world he was definitely one of those who got it from inside. To hear him doing what he does on the Niehaus cut is just freaking great, showing him to be somebody who made his choices knowingly. Love that. I mean, listen to this mothrrfucker on the out chorus of this, total commitment, never mind the "thrills" of all the brass, this Jerry McKenzie cat is the third dimension here. He was with Kenton the first time I saw that band, and was definitely an "old man" there, but I mean, he drove that bus, jack, drove it for real. I saw that band a few times after, including with Peter Erskine, but Jerry McKenzie brought it deeper than anybody, Jerry McKenzie gave it up.

Dude, that site is a Web treasure. It runs deep.

No worries, no damage done.

I know. That's why "Save The Last Dance For Me" is such a heartbreakingly poignant song. Big Joe, otoh, had that stroke or two. But even so, I'd rather hear him shout them blues dead than most live people today.

The cat could play a melody. That's enough if you do it right, and he did.

The Oliver Nelson session....desperately needs an official, collated release. As does the Waldron session.

did he save the last dance for you?

We'd invent it even if it didn't exist. Or more to the point, I definitely believe in "art", it's "Artists" that I need some convincing about. Just because art is damn near everywhere does not mean that Artists are. Art is an outcome, a result.

no doubt already known, but just in case: http://campber.people.clemson.edu/fleming.html