patricia

I tend to think of Williams and Jones as as well as Don Gibson, as being the equivilant of some of the great blues singers, both genres having a spiritual kinship with the original jazz singers. REAL C+W, like the original r&b comes from adversity and struggle, but by poor white people, Charlie Pride notwithstanding. The originals were real, expressing first hand experiences much like the troubadours of centuries gone by. They are historians, of a kind, if you will. Stack that against Dwight Yoakum with his posing and tight jeans, big hat etc. and the exorable Hank JR. No comparison. It pains me to hear the commercial dreck that passes as C+W today. No soul. No heart. No passion. Just the deafening sound of CA CHING!!! Obscene!!!! I was actually going to apologize for digressing from JAZZ, when I realized that nobody's really talking about JAZZ on this thread, exclusively, although there has been some passing mention of it. For some reason, I was thinking of Louis Armstrong's totally mirrored bathroom, photographed in LIFE magazine, years ago. Such ostentatiousness, I remember thinking at the time. Of course, that was before we started seeing present day C+W artists' and Rap Artists' houses. Conspicuous consumption, turned into a virtue. Pinky rings with diamonds the size of Victorian glass doorknobs, and gold jewelry by the pound, worn all at once. Tacky. Tacky.

Moose, the Hank Williams I mentioned was Hank Williams JR, not the great Hank Williams Sr, dead at twenty-nine, a legend in his own time. Booze and drugs destroyed Hank the first, before it was fashionable, back on New Year's Day, 1953. His entire career was crammed into four years, ALL of it on the road. His compositions, "You Win Again" "Kawliga", "Your Cheatin' Heart", "Hey Good Lookin' ", "Jambalaya", "Cold Cold Heart", "Settin' The Woods On Fire" and "I Saw The Light" among tons of others. Not bad, for a four year career. Jones probably comes the closest, for me, to being a C+W singer, still alive today, with an honest message, who is not an obscenely nouveau riche poseur, much like some politicians who pretend to be ordinary folks. I'm not a huge country music aficianado, but Hank Sr and George Jones are guilty pleasures of mine. "You Win Again" and "He Stopped Loving Her Today" invariably bring a tear to this scribe's eye. Hank Jr is a poseur, compared to his daddy, IMO. So, it's not that I don't appreciate good C+W music. There just isn't much I can get with these days.

Absotively!!!

Please don't tell me you are still stuck with Detroit iron? . Seriously Patricia those cookies sound pretty good. Maybe you should introduce them into the Girl Scout mix . Until then I must vote for the thin mints. OK, the Porche, the Ferrari, the '63 Jaguar sedan of the cookie world. Chris, those three-chocolate marvels are THE COOKIES!!!! Pretty good??? Thin mints are pretty good. These were a burst of divine creativity under pressure. I can barely cook, even at gunpoint and these cookies were accidentaly produced, one day when I had people coming over and nothing to offer them. They were surprisingly good, considering that I made them out of stuff I had around the house. To me, chocolate is a staple, much like milk, eggs and bread.:D

Sounds like you've met Billy Ray Jim Bob? He must be drivin' a herd to Dodge City tonight. DEEP No. Sadly. This account is second hand. These people scare me, with their huntin' rifles and big belt-buckles and pick-up trucks. I'm sure they mean no harm, but Conway Twitty hair and c'boy boots are alarmingly aggressive.

So now we have a silly girl. I guess. We're talkin' cookies and the cookies I mentioned are the Cadillac of the cookie world, according to those who have tasted them.

If I didn't know better, I would think that you are describing a small town in Saskatchewan, which my daughter visited last year, for a week. The men are all either huge, or skinny so they disappear if they turn in profile. But, skinny or fat, they all wear plaid shirts, tight jeans, BIG, hubcap-size belt buckles and hats, baseball or cowboy. These hats are never taken off, indoors or out. The tattoos are usually their bes' girl's name, on their shoulder, or a naked lady who moves alluringly, as they flex their bicep. Pickup trucks, with monster sound systems, with and without gunracks are the favourite mode of transportation. The time that my daughter spent there was an eye-opener and she loved it. She said it was like visiting a foreign country. The day started with a friendly offer of a beer, not breakfast, a beer. She had just turned legal and told me that she was half-swacked the whole time she was there. The social agenda involves visiting relatives, and there are tons, all of whom revere Hank Williams Jr. and Travis Tritt and other country singers as Gods. They sit around, with this music blaring and occasionally get up from their chairs and their beers and do some sort of dance, involving arm waving and pelvic machinations in time to the romantic sounds of Hank, or Travis or other similar artists. It was, according to my daughter, like being trapped in some sort of parallel universe.

Thank you Chaney. I guess I just got used to the freezer kind because that's where they are and the urge to eat one is intense. Fridge sounds better and easier on my teeth. Thank you. BTW, I hadn't thought of buttermilk as an accompanyment. Must try that. Speaking of cookies, CHUCK, I'll see your shortbread and raise you my three-chocolate, homemade marvels. They involve liquid chocolate, chocolate chips, cocoa and coconut. Moist and really chocolaty, they are to die for, though I do say so myself.

One of the most delightful surprises of my life was the day that I found out, having not bought Girl Guide cookies [that's what they're called here] for years, was that they weren't the fake Oreos and Vanilla sandwich cookies anymore. The thin mints are a sign that we were meant to have small pleasures. I love them too and have to limit myself to four per sitting, or I would eat the whole box. YUMMMMM!! Yes. By all means, freeze them first. Improves them immensely and the chocolate doesn't melt all over your fingers. AND you're helping one of the best service clubs for young girls. So, you're not just buying the cookies for your own pleasure, but for the greater good. Makes me feel almost virtuous, scarfin' them down.

At the risk of speaking of music on a non-music thread, I feel moved to quote H.A. Overstreet, who said: "I have my own particular sorrows, loves, delights and you have yours. But sorrow, gladness, yearning, hope, love, belong to us in all times and in all places. Music is the only means whereby we feel these emotions in their universality." Or, as Igor Stravinsky said: "I haven't understood a bar of music in my life, but I have felt it." So, laugh it up, with your little jokes. The poetry and music will be here, long after the poets and the musicians and all of us are a dim memory. "There are two kinds of music, good music.............and the other kind" Duke Ellington.

Some would disagree. The Guy In The Glass I guess Peter [Dale] Wimbrow's family is a little miffed that Senter has gotten credit, all these years for writing that terrific poem. My apologies. I have always been under the impression that it was written by Boyd Senter. Whoever wrote it touched a lot of hearts though and I still think that it says a lot about how we live our lives.

The Kroesenopolus Bloviation thread [now deceased], asked who wrote the poem, "The Guy In The Glass". That very self-revealing poem was written by BOYD SENTER, who, with his band, Boyd Senter and the Senterpedes was known as "Jazzologist Supreme". Born in 1899, Senter was very well known for his flashy showmanship, including his playing a diamond-studded clarinet. He began on classical piano, but switched to jazz, having heard the Original Dixieland Jazz Band. Senter originally recorded for Autograph, but moved to OKeh in 1927, first with a trio and then with a full band. His band, the Senterpedes included both Dorsey brothers as well as trumpeter, Mickey Bloom. His records for OKeh included "Mobile Blues" issued in England, but not the U.S. turned him into an international star. He then recorded for RCA in the thirties and worked regularly in Detroit. He served in the military, then as well as continuing playing, also opened his Sports Senter as well as running a company which produced saw blades. So, "Man In The Glass" the often quoted poem was written by the multi-talented BOYD SENTER.

Let's highlight this simple truth for those who aren't getting it. DUH!! Exactly.

Dispelled? Not by a long shot. But, does it really make a difference? Cheers! No. It doesn't make a difference. Just weird and unnecessary, to go to all that trouble.

So, deus, are you reviving the notion that the two participants, whose posts you quoted, are THE SAME PERSON???? Wasn't that dispelled some time ago?? SCHIZOPHRENIA would ensue, after a time, wouldn't you think?? What would be the point of talking to oneself, as these two have, if what you suggest is true??

Mildly amusing joke. OK. OK. It was funny. I have no MISSION, other than to participate in discussions I find interesting. I was under the impression that that was why we all were gathered on this board. As for my crying rape in a heartbeat, that's beneath even you. I assume that you are referring to my asking for clarification of your gleefully told story about your friend's now ex-wife, first described as "surprise" date rape, later amended to describe consentual group sex. I know the difference, as does everyone else who posts here, I assume. I stand by my comments and, quite frankly, was surprised I was the only one who didn't think it was amusing, or erotic, but simply mean, in it's original form. My apologies if questioning it actually made me seem as if I have no sense of humour. You might also have added another piece of advice for GROPER. You might have suggested that he would stay out of trouble here much the same way as he stays out of trouble in Podunk, or wherever it is that he is posting from, by NOT BEING AN ASS. I admit that I probably should not have even tried to engage in playful banter with someone who used a term, in his most recent post, to describe me that I would never have expected from anyone. Who would have thought that my jokingly suggesting that he favours unattractive clothing and bad art would have prompted him to decend into the gutter? Certainly not me.

Those little circular brushes work fine, in conjunction with the general care most of us who love vinyl take handling the records we have. Because I was raised by a dad who was meticulous with his jazz, I was always told to take them out of their covers, by the edge and label, play one at a time and re-sleeve them, immediatly after playing them. As a result, all the records I bought new, stayed immaculate. These days, because my acquistions are used, the problem becomes how to best rehabilitate them, quite often. That is when the picture gets complicated. I guess that careful inspection of the record starts the process. I reject any with visible scratches or hard wear. No way to revive those. Obvious dirt is handled in various ways, as outlined on the other thread. My method is not the best, apparantly, so try the other suggestions.

Well, if your friend is like the rest of us shoot-addicts, even if there were NO prize left, he would still keep doin' what he's doin'. We're all nuts. Pass along my congrats.

Today DEUS IS TWENTY-ONE AND LEGAL!!! LAS VEGAS, HERE HE COMES!!!!

Wait, didn't I see you do that to the Curtis Fuller LP you just sold? Everybody knows that our walls have eyes.

I was going through my old books the other day, that I fell heir to when my mother died. Along with tons of F. Marion Crawford, A.E.W Mason and Sax Rohmer and three books of poetry, I found the companion to the family bible, when I was growing up. I say companion, because it's bound the same way, in leather and always was next to the Bible on the shelf. Because of my mother's exacting rules for book-use, these are all immaculate, even the ones printed in the 1880's. I can hear her telling me not to turn down the corners, or turn them on their faces, instead use a bookmark. As I go through them, I occasonally find a piece of paper, or an old photograph, marking a place to be gone back to. Wow. In any case, the title of this book is "Lives Of The Saints" and it's a collection of bios of the R.C. saints, not alphabetical, but from the first century A.D. on to the 1950's. I would estimate that about 85-90% of these people were martyrs. I often wonder how many of us would have held onto our faith under the conditions and torture that these people went through. Holy man!!! This was published in 1953 and the introduction was written by Thomas Plassmann. Great, full-colour illustrations, with the very first one of St. Michael vanquishing Satan. The caption reads, "St Michael, as one of the Archangels, is always reppresented with wings and in armor. Often he is shown with a pair of scales, representative of his function in weighing souls." I decided that I would start at the beginning, which I have never done and wade through the whole shebang. I used to skim through, as a kid and look at the pictures, which were worse than horror comics in their full-colour illustrations of martyrdom. I had only read the bio of my own baptismal saint, St Theresa and that of St Agnes, who is always pictured holding a lamb in her arms. Interesting reading now though. Did you know that St. Cecilia is the patron saint of musicians??

All I knew about "Shoeless Joe Jackson", from a music standpoint is that he played marvelous clarint with Mel Powell's Dixieland Orchestra. I sort of made a sports connection, but only periferilly, not [gasp] being a baseball aficionado. According to the liner notes, this was a pseudonym used by Benny Goodman on this February 1942 date. The track was "The World Is Waiting For The Sunshine". So, I gather that Goodman simply took the name of the baseball player, who was with the baseball team, involved in the fixing of the World Series. As far as I know, the baseball player wasn't a musician too. My favourte tracks on the record are two by Bobby Hackett, George Brunes, Pee Wee Russell, Bud Freeman, Eddie Condon, Jess Stacy and Artie Shapiro, with George Wettling on drums, which is a jam session on which they play "Carnegie Drag" and "Carnegie Jump" recorded in 1938. The other is Eddie Condon's Jazz Band playing "Oh Sister, Ain't That Hot?" and "Dancing Fool" recorded in 1940. George Wettling is one of my very favourite drummers of all time and he is featured on all but two of the tracks on this record. On two of the tracks, Kansas Fields and Joe Caruso do the honours. Great stuff. This is fabulous Dixieland!!!!

So, Ed, people bring their plumbing to you, much the same way as they would take their TV to *the shop*??

I was referring to desertblues concern about the labels. It takes a lot more than hot water to do anything negative to the label. They're on for the duration and the water doesn't affect the printing on them either. Of course, I don't soak the record in the sink. I don't know what that would do, or who would do that. As you say, whatever works share your method.

The LP that I play the most often [in fact, it's playing now] is "Dixieland Classics" on JazzTone. Like most of the JazzTone releases, this one is a compilation and the lineup of artists reads like this: Muggsy Spanier Bobby Hackett Pee Wee Russell Max Kaminsky Georg Brunies [sic] Mel Powell Jack Teagarden Eddie Condon Fats Waller Miff Mole Bud Freeman Jess Stacy Not to be ignored, this collection also has George Wettling on drums, Artie Shapiro on bass, Shoeless Joe Jackson on clarinet, George Berg on tenor sax, Norma Teagarden on piano and Joe Caruso on the tracks on which George Wettling wasn't on drums. This is pure, passionate, fun Dixieland. Love it almost as much as my "Dixieland, Chicago Style", which was originally on vinyl, but a friend kindly cut a CD of the copy I had, also on JazzTone, before I had a turntable, so it doesn't count for our purposes. B-3r, I also have the Jimmy Smith/Wes Montgomery collection you mentioned, but on a CD I downloaded. FABULOUS!!! Every time I go to my vinyl emporium, I check the Jimmy Smith slot and, so far, it's always empty. Drat. I guess I'm not the only one looking for Jimmy on vinyl.