JSngry

Between Taylor & Cobb, I'll take Philly Joe.

Anybody but trombonists.

Word!

Yep. At least that's what they tell me on Jupiter.

"overages" = when you exceed your plan's monthly minutes allotment.

Yeah, well our Sprint billing service REALLY sucks, but their commercials don't.

The Verizon man receives justice:

Sprint commercials: http://www.sprinttvads.com/flashcheck.html (these are all recent, and not quite as good as the older ones, but check out the Archives, especially "Pageant") A good treatise on the Verizon man: http://www.listentome.net/rants20.php

From what you describe as your tastes, I'd suggest a bunch of Tyner's Milestone albums. SAHARA, SONG FOR MY LADY, ENLIGHTENMENT, TRIDENT, & ATLANTIS ought to get you started good.

Catherine Betamax-Jones-Douglas not allowed, since she is not a true mascot, but a real-life chariacture of one. This is mano-a-mano, a fight to the finish. LET THE FIGHT BEGIN!

Yeah, I love the billing - "The string bass of CHARLES MINGUS with accompaniment"

Here's one from the closet:

Physically unscathed, yes, more or less. However, judging by the vibe in the room over the next hour or so, I'd be loathe to speculate about the extent of any other type of scathing, except to say that I'd hate to have been the scathee. If looks could kill, it would have been mass murder.

Any possibility that this was a Frontier session?

Sort of my sentiments. I'd not be quite as critical, if only because there were a lot of pianists from those years with less than full agility. Gil Coggins and Wade Legge come to mind right away- good, interesting even, players, but nobody would ever accuse them of blinding virtuosity, to put it mildly. The wildcard for RP, though, is McCoy Tyner's citing of him as a key influence in terms of voicings. First time I read this, I thought, "WTF?", but going back and relistening, I can hear moments where Powell used some pretty interesting, non-beboppish voicings in his comps and solos. Just goes to show ya', although what, I can't say.

The only time I was in Odessa was to play a Christmas party for an independent oil company. It was held at a health club located on the third floor of an three-stroy office building. Apparently the oil company and the health club had some common owners. Well, we're on our first break, and we're standing by the elevator, waiting to go downstairs and outside for some fresh air and a cigarette, when all of a sudden there's this big rumble. Before anybody can even think about it, a semi-clothed couple come falling through the ceiling! Apparently there was a catwalk above the third floor, and these two had decided to avail themselves of the privacy thereon. They got a little too rowdy, fell off, and BAM, there they were. Problem was, they were both married, but not to each other. Their respective spouses were both at the party, and all four were owners of both the oil company and the health club. The gig was scheduled to run from 9-1. By 11:00, everybody had left. We got paid, though.

Pops Poopadeaux. A man for all seasons.

A great day for all of us, I should hope. It just takes too damn much energy to be suspicious and hateful, energy that could better be used to more constructive ends. Like they say, it's more work to frown than it does to smile, and that's true metaphorically as well as literally, spiritually as well as physically. That this isn't obvious to all is cause for pause, but the fact that it's significantly more obvious to more than it once was is cause for celebration. It ain't over 'til it's over, as the sage once said, and it may never be truly, fully over, but taking a day to look back, celebrate, and reassess ain't never hurt nobody. Onward!

Hey, I was the "coach" for both of our kids' birth (first was C-section, second was vaginal, but only after a lengthy labor and the "nudging" use of forceps), and as such it was my "job" to keep my wife sane and focused no matter how wiggy things got. Hardest job I've ever had in my life. Nothing else comes close. But I succeeded, and it didn't kill me. Therefore, as the saying goes... But how my wife got through it unscathed, I'll never comprehend. Hell, a little bit of constipation blows my mood...

That's his jazz bias speaking. Read all about him: http://www.epinions.com/user-mike.holmes

Is it possible that Ella's vocal was a splice from another take that captured the end of a Wess phrase, thus the seemingly "premature, surrealistic entry of a tenor."?

Well, the Bluebird CD liner notes tell a different story as per Beny Golson. He says taht when he showed up to the club, he noticed a mobile recording van out front, followed the cables to back behind some double doors, and that him and the rest of the band refused to play until they were paid, in advance, in Aamerican money. They went so far as to begin to pack up and leave! Blakey remained silent through all this, acting like he knew nothing of it. Finally a call was made, the monies paid, and things got under way. That's Golson's 1989 account, anyway. Should I be suspicious of his "memory"? I ask that seriously.

Could the "Clifford Jordan label" in question possibly be the enigmatic Frontier?

There's your answer right there.

You've only been through three inaugurations?