JSngry

No Hooker collection is complete, though, w/o "I'm Bad Like Jesse James", recorded @ Cafe Au GoGo. Ain't nothin' like it.

Thanks, but no thanks. If I do it on purpose, then it becomes "professional", and a "professional writer" is something I have neither the talent for or the aspiration towards becoming. Get it here, while it happens. That's as real as I can keep it. OTOH, I read where liner notes are going for $350 on up, so hey, no sense being a purist about it, eh?

Truthfully, Patricia, I'm one to usually keep my more rancid stories to myself. "On line" friendships, no matter how real, are still devoid of the truly personal connection I need to let the dirt out of the cat's bag, the cat out of the dirtbag, or whatever gets you through the night, so to speak. As a rule. I only let a few examples out to illustrate why some might find such a forum entertaining and/or therapeutic (never underestimate the therapeutic angle...). Although I do have stories to tell, on-line is not the place I would feel comfortabale telling a lot of them, regardless of who/what the company was. My input in this matter has been (mostly) theoretical. I like the board as it is, actually. If a "men's club" forum opens up, cool. But if not, that's cool, too. It's all good. It seems to be a software/programming issue more than anything else, frankly.

A Cadence interview a few years back with, I think, Odean Pope (or some other Philly stalwart, the identity of the individual fails me now) made reference to Hassaan being a rather high-strung individual in terms of temperment, and allusions were also made to substance use (which is not to be confused w/abuse, btw). So the guy doesn't sound like they type to come into the NYC scene from the outside, set up shop, and go about thriving, if you know what I mean. But Pope (or whoever) kind of gave the impression that there are private tapes of local sessions in Philly still exisiting. So... I'd love to have been able to have heard this album in its time (released March, 1965). To today's ears, it might sound a little "no big dealish", but in 1965, I'd think the impact might have been more "in your face-ish". No matter - I myself hear a crackle, an immediacy of energy and purpose here that is about as vivid as I could imagaine, and that, more than any "stylistic" considerations is what continues to draw me to this album.

Patricia, please. My sincere admiration of your verbal and intellectual skills is a matter of record. I would exclude you from nothing, except perhaps tales of anonymous blow jobs and other similar tales of brainless male lustfulness in full throtle, not because you couldn't or wouldn't handle it, but because most guys have sides to them that they'd rather not share with people for whom they have a lot of respect, especially women-type peoples for reasons that once-upon-a-time needed no explanation. But in these days and nights of people wanting the milk but moaning and groaning when the cow shits in the pasture.... Yes, there are certain women that we would prefer not be privvy to our most phallocentric tendencies, out of respect and, yes, admiration. The exception is if we marry or otherwise become seriously involved with them. In which case, they'll find out soon enough... Besides, some stories, like The Tale Of The Menthol Moon, involving a 35 hour road trip (including an 8 hours of 3-way negotiations involving a Kansas jail & a Texaco station), two exhibitionist musicians, a pack of Carlton 120s , and the open highways of the heartlands of Nebraska, appeal to a VERY specialized audience. Kind of like certain Bird bootlegs. What you must realize is that boys will be boys. The best of us will be men when the time comes (and sometimes do it even when the time doesn't come, just becasue it's right), but we are much more likely to do so without any compunction whatsoever if we can retain our boyhood intact and without any guilt other than that which is self-imposed (which occurs far more often than we let on, btw). Those men who insist on remaining boys under any and all circumstances are the ones that smart women sniff out anyway, and the smartest women avoid them altogether. Take that as you see fit... Personally, I don't care one way or the other how this "clubhouse" affair resolves itself. But if you are attributing the desire for such a forum solely to misogynistic and/or misanthropic tendencies, I am saying that you are perhaps missing all the nuances involved. Even an exhibitionist needs privacy once in a while. Yours truly, Dudley Dooright

If we went to the secret forum, I could tell the story of how, back in 1981, I got an anoymous blow job through a barely open hotel door in Baton Rouge, La. while I was standing out in the hall. The state legislature was in session, so nobody thought anything of it as they passed by. They all thought I was a politician, I guess. As things are now, I can't tell that story. That, I think, is DEEP's point. Some things you just don't want everybody to know.

All the cool kids smoke.

From that to this (with a helluva ride in between) 1976: 1979: Over. And out.

Yeah, I remember Patrice on that cut. Nice, to say the least. You talk about the differences in the versions of "Thank you", and you're right, but I think this is the song that marked the personal turning point for Sly. The original was released as a single between STAND & RIOT, b/w "Hot Fun..." (which in and of itself is a pretty wack cut, what with Sly for the first time sounding REALLY loaded in his vocal, even if everybody else sounds like they always did), and it's the first musical hint of the deeper funk to come. But the LYRICS! Lookin' at the devil, grinnin' at his gun Fingers start shakin', I begin to run Bullets start chasin', I begin to stop We begin to wrestle I was on the top Want to thank you falettinme be mice elf agin I wanna thank you falettinme be mice elf agin Stiff all in the collar, fluffy in the face Chit chat chatter tryin’, Stuffy in the place Thank you for the party, But I could never stay Many thangs is on my mind, words in the way I want to thank you falettinme be mice elf agin Thank you falettinme be mice elf agin Dance to the music All nite long Everyday people Sing a simple song Mama's so happy Mama start to cry Papa still singin' You can make it if you try I want to thank you falettinme be mice elf agin Thank you falettinme be mice elf agin Flamin' eyes of peoples fear, burnin' into you Many men are missin' much, hatin' what they do Youth and truth are makin' love Dig it for a starter Dyin' young is hard to take Sellin' out is harder I want to thank you falettinme be mice elf agin Thank you falettinme be mice elf agin Well....ok. Some pretty dark stuff in there, highlighted on the original by the processed voices on the last verse. But still, the RECORD was radio-ready, and of course it was a HUGE, two-sided hit. I don't know that too many people were hearing the lyrics, they were still dancing to the music. But by the time it got remade on RIOT, the sun had set, and we were well into the night, with the ONLY hope of salvation coming in Rose's gospel-laced singing of the title phrase. Dig how more than once, the way she sings the word "lettinme" sounds EXACTLY like Mavis Staples on those Staples Singers Vee Jay sides. Even, perhaps ESPECIALLY, when going down for the count, Sly was able to pull out a sound that no doubt took him back to his childhood, his roots. This was not a case of a genius being too fucked up to function (yet), this was, as I said earlier, a fully articulate suicide note of sorts, written years before it would actually be needed. The cat WAS positive. What happened to him, besides all the drugs, is a matter that NEEDS to be answered for some of us. At least it does for me. His self-destruction seems to have been as intentional as it was tragic (FRESH does indeed have its moments, but other than "In Time" & the maximally wack "Que Serra...", there's an air of anti-climax to it, I think, and it REALLY goes downhill after that, the occasional ultra-funky jam like "Loose Booty" not withstanding. Funky? Yes. But SLY? No.), and I want to know what happened. Everybody loses their innocence, and everybody comes to the realization that compromise is inevitable. Lots of people get really dark about all that, too. Lots of people do lots of things. But to the extent that Sly did? GOT to be an explanation, GOTS to be a reason. I want to know. I NEED to know.

Smells like jazz to me...

Trane did play on the high end of the pitch, which some people who don't get the concept consider "out of tune". Listen to him on the last notes of some of the Miles Prestige things, and you can definitely hear what I mean. It's a tenor thing. Playing on the high end of the pitch gives your tone a certain quality you really can't get any other way. Charlie Rouse was another one who did it really noticably.

Much good information. Thanks! As for the breaking up of quotes, what you can do, short of typing all the code(?) yourself is cut-and-paste from the post (you can most likely see it below the posting box, if not, open another browser window and go to it) and use the "QUOTE" button. If you're in "Guided Mode", a box opens up to paste into. If not, just paste in the posting box, making sure to "Close All Tags" after each quote.

Too bad nobody "stole" his sticks and stick bag on one of the breaks...

Point well taken. My bad.

Get it, Aric. It's no-bullshit jazz in its rawest form.

Well, J.B. was just so fukkin' PRIMAL on all levels that I'd think it would be like the stories you hear about people hearing Bird for the first time - you either loved it or hated it INTENSELY, even if you didn't "understand" it. But Sly had an "intellectual" thing going on in the music that J.B. didn't. By this I don't mean that J.B.'s stuff wasn't deep, because God knows it was. But Sly liked to play tricks, to be "sly", in a self-aware way. Take the horn part on "Everyday People" where they're playing the "ooh, sha sha" lick - it took me quite a while of listening to realize that the horns were only playing "ooh, ... sha". Sly didn't have them playing the first "sha". Or "Hot Fun In The Summertime" - what's the hook on that? The title phrase, right? Well, aren't hooks in most pop tunes delivered with full production and arrangement emphasis? Sure they are. But what does Sly do with THIS hook? He underplays it, keeping the bass line playing the same gap-filled vamp that preceedes the hook, saving the full-motion bass line (and strings, another "textbook hint" that THIS IS THE HOOK) for the return of the verse. For that matter, check out the changes to "Everybody Is A Star" - that shit moves all over the place. I could go on... So, Sly was all about the party, sure (and that's another difference: J.B. was all about let a man be a man, and Sly was all about let's all get down and party without the bullshit, which is the same thing, only different, if you know what I mean. J.B. was "pop" only by the accident of record buying habits, but Sly was POP and damn well MEANT to be), but it was a party which was being led by somebody who you just KNEW was sitting back in the corner taking notes while simultaneously leading it (thus the Sylvester Stewart/Sly Stone dichotomy), and who was going to give you what you wanted, but in a way that you knew EXACTLY who was giving it to you, even if you didn't think you noticed (and with all the different lead vocalists, it would be easy not to). Listen to the "division of labor", in both playing and singing on his pre-RIOT work - it bounces back and forth like very few, if any, bands of the time did, and not always how you'd expect it to. Sly (or more accurately, Sylvester Stewart, the "real" person behind the "Sly" persona) was a puppeteer of sorts, an entirely benevolent one to be sure, but every song had more than a few strings to be pulled, and Sly/Sylvester was pulling them all. Which is why RIOT is such a chilling album. I can't say that the back-to-back combo of STAND and THERE'S A RIOT GOIN' ON is the most dramatically different such pair of the Rock Era, but it might very well be the most dramatically different combo of landmark albums. On STAND, it's the old Sly, playing the puppeteer as the songs about partying and brotherhood and all that good stuff unfold in truly classic fashion. But on RIOT, Sly is both the puppet and the puppeteer. It's himself that he's playing, himself he's examining, himself that he's taking notes about and commenting on. And it's pretty clear that A)Sylvester was getting tired of being a puppeteer B)Sly was tired of being a puppet and C)after taking notes on himself, he doesn't really like what he's found, that Sylvester and Sly were becoming one and the same yet wholly neither, and that sorting all that out required setting up the cycle of A &B all over again, which neither Sylvester nor Sly had the energy or inclination to do to the degree it needed doing. There was indeed a riot goin' on, and nobody was calling the cops. Intentionally. Burn baby burn. There's an air of defiant self-destruction throughout RIOT, as if Sly knows he's soon going to be going away for a long time, but dammit, it's his show, his puppet, and his strings, and he'll do what he damn well wants with them. THAT, I think, is where the funk, an element that the pre-RIOT work never really had, comes in. These aren't the spiritual/body grooves of JB, or the joyfully dirty party grit of the Memphis cats. These are the passive-aggressive grooves of a man who is telling everybody, himself included (ESPECIALLY himself) to go fuck themselves in no uncertain terms, but is doing so in a most irresistable and charming (on the surface, anyway) manner. At the risk of being misunderstood, it's the stance of a BLACK man, the kind of black man who calls you "sir" when he's really thinking "fuck you", the kind of black man whose smile could be interpreted as a ray of sunshine or a dagger of death, depending on just how well you know what's REALLY going on in his mind. It's Eldridge Cleaver as Steppin Fetchit, if that makes any sense. There are many lessons in the life and music of Sly Stone. Some are obvious (too much coke and such ain't good for you), some are unresolved (can an egalitarain ideal survive if everybody stays clean enough to stay on top of their game?) and some are disturbing (can you REALLY make it if you try, or, like Mingus in "The Chill Of Death", has your fate been planned - planned...but...well). Perhaps its the ultimate ambiguity of these lessons that account for Sly being held in less reverence than he is today (or so it seems to me), I don't know. You still don't hear much of PET SOUNDS on the radio either, but you sure as hell hear "Fun Fun Fun". Everybody LOVES the Beach Boys, but Brian Wilson? You tell me what that means... I do know that Sly & The Family Stone are NOT what you're looking for if you're looking for Soul, R&B, Black (or any other kind of) Rock, or any other neatly-compartmentalized genre, and not until RIOT did they offer up the funk. What they gave us, in the end, is "Sly Stone" music, which is a genre unto itself, really. Hope that helps.

It depends on how much better the bassist is than the drummer is bad. But as a rule, a strong bassist can carry a wek drummer in a way that the opposite can not occur. But if they both exist in relative stages of suckdom...well... I'd still say the bad bassist is worse. The omnidirectional penetrational tendencies of the lower frequencies mean you can hear AND feel his crappiness, whereas the bad drummer you can mostly just hear, which is bad enough.

What's a Alby Cullaz? Never heard of "The Flip". Whazzat? Mobley BN side done in Paris, late 60s. Killer front line, so-so pianist, Philly Joe, and Alby Cullaz holding the bass whilst playing notes on it, if you get my drift. Philly saves the day.

Somehow Patty, I think DEEP's X-rated corner will get all the hits. You guys would end up really crocheting. Don't be so sure. There's a Jody everywhere.

Sorry Bill. I gasped too when I went back and read it myself! I've seen myriad situations where a strong bass player carries a weak drummer, but very, VERY few where ANYBODY carries a weak bass player. The Philly Joe/Alby Cullaz thing on THE FLIP is the exception that proves the rule. 99.99% of the time, when the bottom ain't right, forget it.

That only leaves one possibilty - that you are Phil Spector. So, like, uh, taken any target practice lately, Phil?

The energy (in the music and the round-robin vocals alike) and the over-the-legal-limit FUN that overflows from that track were like a slap upside your head, especially "GET UP! GET UP...AND DANCE...TO THE MUSIC" and "ALL THE SQUARES GO HOME". That, the beat, and the still cooler-than-shit a capella vocal breaks made it clear that THIS was a party like none other, and that it was NEVER going to end. And when the sequel (in every sense of the word) "M'Lady" came out, THAT sealed the deal. The first time I saw the group "live" (actually lip-synching) was on one ofthose weekday afternoon teen dance shows like "Where The Action Is", or something like that. GOOD GOD A'MIGHTY! They did "Life" IIRC, and I'd never seen ANYBODY like that before. The rock bands were always either teeniebop or hippie in their vibe, and the R&B acts were either Motown-slick or from that gloriously mysteriously unknown parallel universe that black music inhabited to an interested but still mostly socially segregated white kid like me. But THESE guys! Whites, blacks, a short haired female black trumpet player side by side with a long haired male white sax player, fros a mile wide, and EVERYBODY laughing and dancing thier asses off, hell - I saw the future and lo, it was GOOD! I still get goosebumps playing that GREATEST HITS album, because I still remember it, and I still HEAR it. Sly could have ruled the world, moreso than the Beatles, I think. That was not to be, obviously, but for a few years, "Sly" & "turn the radio up ALL the way" were synonymous in my world, and, I suspect, LOTS of other folks'.

That wasn't me. I logged on as myself, not as me. Apologies to all!

Yeah, let me tell you 'bout the time I stuffed 15 Thai chickies while doing lines off their backs. Damn funny story, especially the part where their moms walk in and join the fun!

From the Conn Watch to the Con Watch in about a decade. Who says jazz is dead?