JSngry

Joe Torre Peter Lorrie Richard Horry

I have just learned that Bird's were a crawdad eatin' people, as are mine. See. it's all connected. Stanley Crouch - unifier.

A purist digging on Miles At Fillmore. Now that's Progress In My Lifetime!

You might be surprised by how little there is to really see, and how long it takes to see it anyway!

If you turn your back to the speakers, that would make it right, no? Only then it would be like you were in the band at the back of the stage with your back turned? So...what then? Reverse your speaker wiring, have the left output go to the right speaker? Too much math for R&B!

Where that consensus exists, that is what it is. Me. I'm tempted to call it The Hell Hath No Fury (Nor Whine) Like A White Man Scourned Syndrome, but lead us not into temptation, etc. I will say this, though - if all it takes to get your feelings hurt is Stanley Crouch, then...c'mon...I've had good days - good days, mind you - that carry more potential for real damage to my feelings than Stanley Crouch. He can raise my ire for a moment, and him and his former(?) sockpuppet Wynton have wrecked permanent damage on what used to be called jazz (but Fathead is not a jazz musician now, per Branford, the puppet in search of a sock, so,, like the good GPS, recalculate, dig?). Hurt feelings are a helluva lot more serious a matter than are forcibly changed logistics. Just remember - in order for a sucker punch to land, it takes both a punch and a sucker. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cX80fZGZyz4 btw- if this allegorical "tall, skinny, bespectacled pianist" is Mel Powell...hey, then there IS a heaven, or at least a place where "sensitivity" is an option willfully allowed, not forcibly swallowed.

Oh look - there's Ed-die. He looks gr-ATE! Hey, look! He's got a pants like mine!

The Penguin Cafe Orchetra Tennessee Tuxedo Exedo

Mitt Romney The Rawlings Brothers Webb Pierce

Johnny Griffin, now them was some nice pants.

A compilation of material from two Old Town albums (seemed to have been some symbiosis between the two labels) and liner notes by Orin Keepnews, whoopie-doo. Note - the Verve label is blue, and we all know what - Not Intended Strictly (If At All) For Jazz Audiences! And yet, this is a mostly sublime collection of mostly top-flight standards, ballads all, no syrup for these hot cakes, just lots and lots of rich, sweet honey, very much a bedroom record, If I'm talking about shaft, then can you dig it? Also: Three cuts with Basie (again, that symbiosis with Verve, and that includes the font, eh?), one of which ("Do Nothing Til You Hear From Me") has a bit from Jaws that sounds like he knows exactly who will be listening to this record. It's one of the damndest bit of "targeting" (I've ever heard a jazz soloist do, subtle yet unmistakeable. Lock never wanted for work, and this is why - he delivered as promised, and he would not make a promise he couldn't keep. The rest of the record, though...kinda ticky-tocky, although I guess from a "study" perspective, you can make the case for Arthur Prysock being the missing link between Billy Eckstine & Brook Benton. And speaking of making promises that can or cannot be kept, a song with the title "Only A Fool Breaks His Own Heart"...you don't give a song a title like that unless you can back it up 100*% and....not thinking that it happened like that here...too bad. Otherwise, I got about 6-7 more Prysock LPs top go through, on both Verve & Old Town, and it's not exactly something I'm dreading, if you know what I mean.

That one may be the best Zoot Sims on record, I think. I've heard a lot of Zoot over the years and have gotten kind of..."blase" about hearing him these days, even the really good stuff, but this one made me stop and listen, involuntarily. When they talk about Zoot being a true jammer, this is what they mean. The dude is unfettered, unenclosed, and unstoppable, and all with good cause.

It's "atypical", overtly "West Coast" in every regard (not a value judgement, just a description of the setting), but hell, it's Clifford, and it is the original "Joyspring", I think.

OMG! Have you heard this? Yeah, Hans Koller, on Saba. I believe it was couw (hi, John, if you're still out there, hope all is well) who hipped me to it. Nothing like the cover would suggest, nothing at all. I was at once relieved and disappointed. Sample here: http://www.amazon.com/Relax-With-Horns-Hans-Koller/dp/B00I048XB6

Third the notion...but as a "slice of life", there's been thinner slices and worse lives, if you know what I mean. Another slice of life that might be more interesting (or "interesting") is this one here. Never really gels, but there are moments that are really, really cool...and good, too.

Please post further specifics as they become available. I do not want to miss this.

For the record, I don't hate Bill Evans. Far from it. But he did outlive his usefulness for me. Before that, though, a lot of genius and irrefutable (not abstract) truth. After that, so much yanka doodlin' dandy, albeit oh so "sensitive". So, in the end, fuck the messenger, leave the messenger out of it unless and until they get a Reality Show. I'll take the message no matter who/what/when/where, and that includes Mister Clumbersome himself, Stanley Crouch. And besides, if a man is so unfocused/insecure that the drugs distort not just the efficiency of his delivery but the core of his message, then that man should be Man Enough to leave the drugs the hell alone or else indeed be risked becoming a punk, A Punk To The Drugs, Drug Punk, not Drug Man. Man, or Wo(e)man. Nor only JUST the drugs. Sensitivity in the sole service of itself solely is not a Core Value, it's a fetish.

Did they expect people to buy this record? Looks like they did (and no doubt, with good reason)! This is one of those definitive albums, although the notion of Jazz Lowenbrau may make some cringe, so does Champale, and I've had soem glorious times in the company of Champale. So, let it be known. Played earlier (this could be the start of something binge): Looks to be a "leftovers" album (and sounds like one), but still, it's time for me to come to a Full Personal Reckoning with Arthur Prysock once and for all, not just an assorted batch of assimilations, inferences, and references. As with always and everything, with an eye to move on ahead, but forward through, not around easily. Right now it's Unfinished Business (as in yes, unfinished and yes, business as well as Unfinished Business). That voice should not be casually considered. The settings, sure, but not the voice, and ultimately, it's the voice that tells the story, the real story.

No matter how awkwardly/poorly/wackily/etc he's doing it, what I think Crouch is trying to do (yeah man, I really dig what you're trying to do) is to remind whoever has forgotten/never known/would carelessy dismiss the notion that yes, Bird, Cosmic Genius/Metaphysical Junkie/Ulimate Hippester/Etc. but also that you don't have Bird, first and foremost, outside of the same world as this, and although I think it's funny (in many ways) how he's trying to say it, I'll be damned if I'll disagree with him on that point. I don't see how/where Bill Evans is relevant even tangentially to that point, although, arrangement by Billy Byers, if we need to.

Is the Dookie Coleman thread available anywhere? That was Inside Jazz Entertainment at its finest.

So...it appears that this has been reissued thru Japan. Now we can all has nice things! https://www.dustygroove.com/item/688321

Was that Mr. & Mrs. Arnold Palmer?

Yeah, the more Bill Evans "played like a white guy" (quotes intentional and intent-ional) the more stale/boring/creepy/just WRONG I found him, and the less I liked him, because, hey, creepiness is not inherently "whiteness", I beg to differ, Mr. Crouch (and Mr. Evans, Bill, damn sure not Gil, salt AND Peppers Adams & Art not Warne out, to be clear, our love is here to PLAY those songs of love they're writing and/but knots for ME). Then again, up until then, whoa, look out, that was some deep shit, coming out, not yet being stepped in/on. But hell, fuck Stanley Crouch and for damn sure fuck all that limited-ness. But this book - and this book alone - is tickling me for reasons that have nothing to do with THAT, perhaps not unlike Wagner tickles me, although I don't know that I'd pay for a box set of Stanley Crouch, in fact, no I don't think I would. And like I said, I'm just getting into Chapter Two. By the end, that tickle might get annoying, as tickles often do when prolonged for too long the length. But then again, I'm only getting to Chapter 2 after, what, 1-2 weeks, and what is pacing if not timing, and in life and in engines, (and vice-versa) timing is everything.

To prepare for Rangers Opening Day, I have made sure that my disability insurances are paid up and current. "Help" is asking for too much....