Spontooneous

Wow. I used to have a sweater that looked just like that album cover. I still have nightmares about that period in my life.

Lou Donaldson -- Me Givin' You This Sammich Symbolizes the Distribution of Wealth

That was the Donaldson/McLean collaboration, remember? The second volume was "Let Freedom Shing-A-Ling."

Whips of Chambers

Sonny Clark: Sleepin' and Copin' Cool Moseyin'

Horace Silver -- Can't Anyone Understand My Sign Language?

BTW, folks: Ten pages and 24 hours later, I still can't stop chuckling over Larry Kart's "Filthy McNicey."

Not to be confused with Terumasa Hino's "Gluestuck."

Let's not forget "The Adequate J.J. Johnson" and "The Pathetic Herbie Nichols."

Too long to fit on the LP spine: Herbie Hancock -- My Point of View May Be Ill-Informed, So I'm Open to Discussion On This

Lou Donaldson -- Mr. and Mrs. Shing-A-Ling

Lou Donaldson -- Mr. Shingrovsky

Blue Mitchell -- But Deep Inside, I'm Still In Favor Of It

Oh, yeah ... wasn't that the sequel to "The Assistant Manager"?

OK, we're using the term "poetry" loosely. Yes, it's computer-generated gibberish designed to get around spam filters. Just basking in the accidental eloquence, the mindless clashes of images. And fighting a vague sense of dread that this kind of language will penetrate deeper into our lives eventually.

Everybody remembers those and forgets "San Franisco," "Circus" and "Montana."

Lou Donaldson -- Stop Oglin' The Pretty Girl On The Cover And Buy The Damn Record

A stoic turkey reads a magazine, and a blithe spirit panics; however, the mysterious skyscraper writes a love letter to another turn signal. If a graduated cylinder requires assistance from a carelessly mitochondrial wedding dress, then a somewhat cantankerous fruit cake goes to sleep. The bullfrog living with a ski lodge derives perverse satisfaction from the obsequious tape recorder. A recliner ignores a false particle accelerator, because an abstraction knows an outer roller coaster. When you see the chess board, it means that the insurance agent self-flagellates.

Rejected for being too similar to Grant Green's "Talkin' About the Transcendental Dialectic."

The Grant Green Memorial Album: Who's Buried in Grant's Tomb?

Is this a good place to recycle my Booker Ervin "Tex Book Depository" joke?

Art Blakey, "Holiday for Shirts"

Back about 2000, there were at least two dozen copies in a surplus store in Kansas City. I only grabbed one, of course.

Freddie Hubbard, "Ready for Freddie." Oh, wait a minute ...

Can't vouch for the septet, but I saw the trio (with Moffett and Gravatt) last weekend (10-21). It was a magnificent musical experience. McCoy looks gaunt, walks weakly, and talks in a mumble. But he was playing far better than he played the previous time I saw him, in '95. Less rococo, much meatier. The sets were short but intense.