
Adam
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One O'Clock Jump-4 day Basie Tribute in LA in Oct.
Adam replied to jazzkrow's topic in Live Shows & Festivals
Here is the LA Jazz Institute site page for this conference. http://lajazzinstitute.org/index.php?c=7 -
One O'Clock Jump-4 day Basie Tribute in LA in Oct.
Adam replied to jazzkrow's topic in Live Shows & Festivals
That looks like a good one. I've been to their conferences in the past, and it's been a good time. Missed teh last couple. And this one will be hard to make due to work, but maybe I can get to the shows one night. -
It's not clear whether the bonus feature discs that come with the Criterion version for Jules et Jim and a variety of others are part of this.
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up for the hell of it
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There's another thread on this. I just upped it. http://www.organissimo.org/forum/index.php...mp;#entry546426
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Astronomers Decide Pluto Is Not a Planet
Adam replied to Brownian Motion's topic in Miscellaneous - Non-Political
There already has been a "former planet" - Cereus. We all got over it. This does screw up my 2nd grade ribbon-winning model of the solar system, but c'est la vie. -
Andre 3000 of OutKast to "rework" Kind Of Blue
Adam replied to trane_fanatic's topic in Miscellaneous Music
Very true. Let's promote a new policy - only new music on all records! No more covering standards by jazz musicians and reinterpreting them. That would be wrong. -
Ah, the Dodgers won the last 2 over the Giants. They're looking pretty good. I wonder how they woudl be if they still had Paul Lo Duca. Now if they can only beat the Padres in a full series...
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Maybe I can check it out next time I'm at UCLA.
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Go Dodgers! I'm a native Angeleno, so I can root for them fair or foul, and I'll take fair these days. Even though I don't know hardly any of the players on the team anymore. And the team keeps trading its best players. I went to Friday's game against the Giants though, and I have to say that the Dodgers just looked like a confident, solid team. Really bizarre to go 1-13 and then 13-1.
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I called yesterday to find out what was up with my order from 29 July. Jackson said that they were running about 10-12 business days to process orders, and then shipping Fed Ex ground, and I woudl get an email with the tracking #. Still no such email. Today was the 9th business day. So I'm just gonna chill for a few more. I hope it doesn't arrive when I'm in Chicago next week though.
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Just received this: September 2006 at the Jazz Bakery !! It's Hammond B3 Madness Month, with horn colossus James Carter's Organ Trio, the Dr. Lonnie Smith Organ Trio and the Larry Goldings Piano & Organ Quartet! The first month of Autumn also features the Kenny Werner Trio, plus a special Kenny Werner lecture and Q&A session on Thursday, September 28th. Finally, Polish legend Tomasz Stanko brings his Quartet to the Jazz Bakery for a rare multi-night stint. The Full JB Lineup: Sep 6 - 10: saxophonist James Carter Organ Trio w/ Gerard Gibbs B3 & Leonard King dr 3 PM Matinee Sep 10: Cathy Segal-Garcia presents The Four Souls of Jazz Sep 11 - 12: pianist Aaron Goldberg Trio w/ Reuben Rogers bass & Eric Harland dr Sep 13 - 16: Dr. Lonnie Smith Organ Trio w/ Peter Bernstein gtr & Marvin "Smitty" Smith dr Sep 17: New West Guitar Quartet Matinee Sep 17: Judy Wolman's Sing ! Sing ! Sing ! "Glory of Gershwin" Sep 18: Ross Garren & Webber Iago Sextet playing Debussy & Ravel Sep 19: saxophonist Keshchia Potter Quartet CD Release Sep 20 - 24: Larry Goldings Piano & Organ Quartet w/ Ben Allison bass John Sneider tpt Matt Wilson dr Matinee Sep 24: Danny Janklow Quartet Sep 25: Azar Lawrence, Richard Sears, Tony Dumas & Tony Green Sep 26: Leviathan Brothers Sep 27 - Oct 1: pianist Kenny Werner Trio w/ Johannes Weidenmueller bass & Ari Hoenig dr 6:00 - 7:15 PM Sep 28: Kenny Werner Lecture "Effortless Mastery" plus Q&A session Matinee Oct 1: Charles Owens Quartet Oct 2: Gordon Goodwin Big Phat Band (Reservations Recommended) Oct 3: Kamasi Washington & "Next Step" Oct 4 - 8: Tomasz Stanko Quartet w/ Marcin Wasilewski pno Slavomir Kurkiewicz bass & Michal Miskiewicz dr Matinee Oct 8: Leslie Drayton & "Fun" Looking forward to Werner & Stanko as well.
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For years I noticed that virtually every record reviewed in any given issue of Jazz Times also had an ad in that issue. Maybe they run it like Downbeat, with the ad dept. contacting you once it's decided they will review it. However, if you are going to have any advertising dollars put into any jazz record, it makes sense that those are the magazines where you would place the ad. Chicken or egg?
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10% Off On Selected Mosaic Box Sets
Adam replied to Dave James's topic in Mosaic and other box sets...
up -
up for the sale
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up for the sale. Has anyone else bought it?
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Fun little site: http://www.grotrian.de/spiel/e/info.html You drag notes or chords from the right into the "field of play" as it were.
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RIP Los Angeles Times obit today http://www.latimes.com/news/obituaries/la-...news-obituaries Arthur Lee, 61; Forceful Leader of Influential '60s Band Love By Mike Boehm, Times Staff Writer August 5, 2006 Arthur Lee, who forged a legacy as one of rock's great visionaries and forbidding eccentrics while reigning briefly with his band Love as princes of the mid-1960s Sunset Strip, died Thursday of leukemia in a Memphis, Tenn., hospital. He was 61. Mark Linn, a longtime friend, said Lee learned in February that he had leukemia and spent most of his remaining months in the hospital undergoing chemotherapy and an experimental umbilical cord blood treatment. Lee, who established himself as the first black rock star of the post-Beatles era, fronted Love through astonishing musical changes that have continued to resonate for other rockers and a cult of critics and fans. Led Zeppelin's Robert Plant cited the influence of Lee and Love in his acceptance speech at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1995. But Love also became one of the first burnout bands of the 1960s, and with Lee's death, only three members survive of the eight who were in the band between 1965 and 1967. Dogged by intra-band rivalries, substance abuse and Lee's reluctance to tour, the first version of Love was finished by 1968, although Lee continued using the band name to record and perform at least sporadically for the rest of his life. He was imprisoned from 1996 to 2001 on a weapons charge, but after his release he had new energy and a new story to tell that led to a resurgence for a time in concerts, including a 2003 performance in London, available on DVD, in which Lee was able to re-create Love's masterpiece album, "Forever Changes," backed by a sharp, four-man rock band and an orchestra of horns and strings. Love's first three albums were indeed forever changing. They yielded eloquent folk-rock on the 1966 debut, "Love," the first rock record ever released by Elektra Records, and jazz-inflected rock with a flute player added to the lineup on the follow-up, "Da Capo." That album also included the explosive hard rock of the band's lone Top 40 single, "7 and 7 Is" — a song that ended with the sound of an atom bomb exploding and foreshadowed late-'70s punk rock by 10 years. In 1967 came "Forever Changes," a gorgeous, haunting song cycle infused with classical horns and strings. Thematically, the album gave an emotionally undulating, impressionistic take that captures sweet hopes from the "Summer of Love" giving way to paranoia and dread. "Forever Changes" ranked 40th on a list that Rolling Stone magazine compiled of the 500 greatest albums of all time. Yet it has remained an overlooked treasure, reaching no higher than No. 154 on the Billboard albums chart after its original release and selling 103,000 copies since 1991 on CD reissues, according to SoundScan. Besides helping to hasten rock's acquisition of a wide range of stylistic possibilities, Love played a crucial role in Los Angeles' early rock history. By 1965, the Byrds had created a Hollywood folk-rock scene at Ciro's. When Lee and his guitar-playing boyhood friend, Johnny Echols, saw the Byrds, they decided folk-rock was the way to go, rather than the Booker T & the MGs-style rhythm and blues they had been playing. "We didn't want to be stuck playing the Chitlin' Circuit," Echols said Friday. "We wanted to play this new kind of music." They quickly enlisted the Byrds' guitar-strumming road manager, Bryan MacLean, who became second-chair singer-songwriter to Lee. Love's racially integrated lineup — Lee and Echols were black, MacLean, bassist Ken Forssi, and drummers Don Conka, Alban "Snoopy" Pfisterer and Michael Stuart were white — forged a model that the Jimi Hendrix Experience, Sly and the Family Stone and War would follow to much greater stardom. Echols said that he and Lee met Hendrix while he was still R&B sideman Jimmy James, and that Hendrix took fashion cues from the flamboyantly dressed Lee. Intent on bringing his New York-based Elektra label into the rock era, Jac Holzman rifled through newspaper club listings on a trip to Los Angeles, thought the name Love looked interesting and checked out the band at Bido Lito's in Hollywood. What he saw was Lee fronting the band in a motley pre-hippie outfit. "It was just a sight, their take on things was so interesting, and the girls in the club were so into what they were doing," Holzman said. He quickly got an inkling that, in Lee, he wasn't dealing with a typical fellow. "He was one of those people you know is likely to do something terrible to you or around you," Holzman said, "but you like him so much and he's so talented that you always support him." Holzman said he trusted Lee's musical judgment enough to check out a band he recommended called the Doors — and to keep going back after he didn't initially think much of them, because Lee kept saying the Doors were special. "Arthur set in motion things that had enormous consequences," Holzman said. "When we approached the Doors, they thought that Love was the coolest band around, and the fact that Love was on Elektra was a reason for them to be on Elektra." When the Doors took off in 1967, Echols said, Love began to question whether it was getting enough attention from its label. "They were an easier sell than we were. It became frustrating." Drummer Michael Stuart-Ware (his married name), who played on "Da Capo" and "Forever Changes," recalled Lee on Friday as a man who could be charming but who also could use his tall, athletic, lanky frame and lacerating wit to win through intimidation. "He liked people to acquiesce to his dominance. When he walked into a room, it was his room," Stuart-Ware said. "He had his talent, his physical presence, his songwriting ability — a lot of tools to get his way." After the first version of Love disbanded, Lee found new musicians and made a pair of albums, "Four Sail" and "Out Here," that showed continued songwriting strength. Hendrix accompanied him on "False Start" from 1970. Then Lee fell from the spotlight for the better part of two decades. He reemerged in 1989, booked on a Psychedelic Summer of Love package tour. But in 1993, he connected with a new set of young admirers, the interracial Los Angeles pop-rock band Baby Lemonade, who became the next and last incarnation of Love, billed now as Love With Arthur Lee. It became the steadiest, most enduring lineup of Lee's career. He toured regularly until his 1996 sentencing, then picked up with the same players after his release in 2001. "Arthur seemed to have learned a huge lesson after he got out of jail," said guitarist Mike Randle. Lee, Randle and guitarist Rusty Squeezebox worked on new material and in 2005 were confident about landing a new contract. But Lee did not rise to the occasion. He could be brilliant and focused, Randle said, but last year he began to miss gigs or show up only to stand on stage without singing. "When he was sober, he was the sweetest, most giving man on the planet," Randle said Friday. "But I would say he was sober 15% of the time. The rest was dealing with him and not trying to take it personally." Early this year, Lee moved from Toluca Lake to his birthplace, Memphis. Lee was born Arthur Porter Taylor. His mother, Agnes, was a schoolteacher; he saw little of his father, Chester Taylor, who was a cornet player. In a 1994 interview with The Times, Lee recalled listening while his aunt played blues records and listened to Nat King Cole. When he was 5, he and his mother moved to Los Angeles. Six years later, she married Clinton Lee, a carpenter and plumber. Lee began taking accordion lessons as a child and by his mid-teens was playing keyboards in Los Angeles clubs. In June, Plant, Ian Hunter and Ryan Adams headlined a concert in New York that Linn said raised $50,000 for Lee's medical expenses; Baby Lemonade was joined by Love alums Echols and Stuart-Ware for a smaller benefit in L.A. Linn said Lee married his longtime girlfriend, Diane, near the end of his life. He had no children.
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Going to see Manu Chao tonight. Been wanting to see him for years. Today's LA Times: http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/la-et...1,6023659.story Old rebel with new issues Now middle-aged, but not mellowed, Manu Chao brings his feisty act on the road. By Agustin Gurza, Times Staff Writer August 1, 2006 BERKELEY — A loopy-looking fan with a wild Mohawk climbed onto the Greek Theatre stage Friday night and crept up on world-music icon Manu Chao, here to kick off his first U.S. tour in five years. The unsuspecting singer, who performs tonight at the Shrine, was delivering an exuberant show before a delirious audience when the weird interloper appeared to clutch him from behind. This being Berkeley, a wary security man made only a timid attempt to stop the fan, perhaps worried about sparking a free-speech incident. The hesitant guard backed away when Chao, a diminutive figure onstage, awkwardly reached up with one arm to hug the hulking but harmless admirer, who eventually slinked off by himself. The moment was not unusual for a concert like Chao's, amped up on frenetic punk energy, entrancing reggae grooves and sociopolitical fervor, all soaked in a pungent pall of marijuana that made you feel high by osmosis. But it must have been a nerve-racking moment for Chao's Paris-based managers. They had privately fretted about how the current political climate would play out for their outspoken client, who recently called President Bush the world's most dangerous terrorist. Whatever the risk, Chao wasn't holding his tongue on this tour. At one point he unfurled a red Zapatista flag in support of Mexican rebels in the state of Chiapas. At another, he delivered a sharp rebuke of "politicians that say lies, lies and more lies." "They say we must fight violence with violence," he continued in heavily accented English. "That's not true. We must fight violence with education." Not exactly a ringing slogan for someone considered a pop music messiah. But it showed that the activist artist, now 45, has not mellowed with age. "The problem is that the more I mature, the more the world becomes unjust," Chao said in an interview before the show. "So my spirit of searching for a solution to create a world that is more balanced and fair for everyone grows more vital with every day." Well into middle age, this elusive, almost mythical musician remains one of the most influential figures in what has come to be called world music, a term that aptly describes the goulash of styles he cooks up in Spanish, French and English. Chao hasn't had a new studio album in five years. He doesn't even have a record label, though he has three new albums in various stages of production. And he manages his career like he says he lives his life, day to day. Still, despite his absence from the pop spotlight, thousands turned out to see him perform with his crack, raucous band, Radio Bemba Sound System, named for a slang term meaning gossip or word of mouth. On Friday, many in the ethnically mixed crowd sang along to songs from his two solo albums and from his work with Mano Negra, the pioneering Latin alternative band he formed in the mid-1980s and named for a historic anarchist group. You could say that Chao needs to freshen his sound and his material. But what's the point? Nothing new is more thrilling or compelling than what he does. "We're in a period that is musically very boring," the guitarist said in Spanish, seated on a couch in a softly lighted room backstage. "But I think we're at the bottom of a bad cycle. Which means that not long from now a new musical wave will emerge, I don't know from where. It could come from Monterrey or Bombay, from Rome or Kinshasa. But it's going to sweep away everything. For now, we're just waiting for the next new thing." The return of Manu Chao makes the wait more bearable. Chao is the son of Spaniards who fled Franco's fascist Spain. He was raised in Paris, where he found musical kinship with other immigrants, especially North Africans, many of whom drown trying to reach Europe. He recently produced albums by Malian duo Amadou & Mariam and by Akli D, a singer-songwriter from Algeria. This unique Algerian music is the latest style Chao has absorbed into his eclectic repertoire, informed by the brash spirit of The Clash, the rootsy groove of Bob Marley and the idealistic aura of Che Guevara. That musical stew makes his music hard to define, and that's the way he likes it. "The last thing I need to accomplish is to define myself," he says. "I have to continue growing and never be defined." Perhaps by design, there's a certain disconnect between Manu Chao, the public figure, and José Manuel Chao, the person. He's considered a protest singer but his songs are rarely overtly political. He's revered like a guru, but he's very down to earth. He has a reputation for being hostile to the press, but he was patient and accommodating with the curious media on this tour. After sound check, he gave a formal news conference at the Greek, attended by about 15 Bay Area reporters, many young enough to be his children. Some swarmed him after the formal Q&A, holding out their notebooks to request autographs. Their questions were mostly about politics — immigration, the Zapatistas, globalization, terrorism. It was clear they looked to him for answers. But who does he look to? Chao has given up on politicians. Democracy is in crisis, he says, because elections don't change underlying economic realities. And he no longer believes in revolution as a mass solution either. I need to accomplish is to define myself," he says. "I have to continue growing and never be defined." Perhaps by design, there's a certain disconnect between Manu Chao, the public figure, and José Manuel Chao, the person. He's considered a protest singer but his songs are rarely overtly political. He's revered like a guru, but he's very down to earth. He has a reputation for being hostile to the press, but he was patient and accommodating with the curious media on this tour. After sound check, he gave a formal news conference at the Greek, attended by about 15 Bay Area reporters, many young enough to be his children. Some swarmed him after the formal Q&A, holding out their notebooks to request autographs. Their questions were mostly about politics — immigration, the Zapatistas, globalization, terrorism. It was clear they looked to him for answers. But who does he look to? Chao has given up on politicians. Democracy is in crisis, he says, because elections don't change underlying economic realities. And he no longer believes in revolution as a mass solution either. "Today, the only solution I see is thousands of small revolutions," he said in the interview. "I believe in the revolution of the barrios. You and I can't change the world, but we can change ourselves. We can change our own families, and we can even change our own neighborhoods. There, nobody has excuses." After years of wandering the world like a nomad, Chao now lives permanently in Barcelona, where he haunts the clubs of this lively mecca for immigrants and musical fusions. He wasn't immediately recognizable Friday as he ate lunch backstage with his band. partly because his face doesn't usually appear on his illustrated CD covers. The only giveaway was his jaunty, bright red beret. Despite lines in his face, Chao looked fit and vigorous. He says he drinks half a liter of water before breakfast every morning and occasionally fasts to cleanse his system. He's also an amateur chiropractor, pretending at one point to massage the necks of fellow musicians hunched over control panels and computer screens in recording studios. "I know how to help people," he says. "Click, click, click. I set them right straight, and they thank me. In music, it's nice to do a good show and feel appreciated, no? But when you fix the back of someone who was messed up with his energy half blocked, they appreciate it even more." His dream is to hang out a shingle that reads, Manu Chao: Chiropractor. He'd be the town curandero, offering the folk remedies he's learned from his travels. If only he could retire from show business. "Two or three times in my life I have tried to put on the brakes, but I can't find them," he says. "There are so many projects that appeal to me and so much music that rouses my passion, I can't stop." Chao displayed that musical enthusiasm at one point by interrupting a photo session on the stone steps of Berkeley's open-air amphitheater, while his band rehearsed on the stage below. I was caught up in the unusual rhythms when he surprised me with a tap on the shoulder. He wanted me to know the band was playing the music from Algeria that he had mentioned in the interview. He flashed the smile of someone who loves to share his passion, then scampered back up the steps for more pictures. Chao says he thought he would retire after "Clandestino," the acclaimed 1988 album that established him as a solo act. "I was sincerely convinced that would be my last album," he said. "I was sure it wouldn't work and my fans would throw rocks at me. But. look," — here he grabs himself by the collar of his shirt — "that album grabbed me from behind and said, 'You come back here.' " Chao released his most recent studio album just before the terrorist attacks of 2001. It was titled "Próxima Estación: Esperanza," which means, Next Stop: Hope. He wouldn't change the title today, even though he thinks the world has entered an extremely dark and dangerous period, fueled by the growing rift between rich and poor. The darker it gets, he says, the more people need that hope. "This is all the more reason to be an optimist," he says. "Without hope, you fall into pessimism and nihilism and cynicism, and I don't want to succumb to all of that." Soon, Chao would be lighting up the cool Berkeley night with his performance, jumping around joyously as if on pogo sticks despite a bout of tendinitis around both ankles. The positive vibe of his music would create an instant community in that small bowl of humanity and, for one night at least, help transcend the world's troubles. Welcome back, Manu Chao.
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I've seen Janet Klein perform in Los Angeles. the Los Angeles Conservancy has a series each year called The Last Remaining Seats, some classic films in the big classic movie houses of Broadway. the shows are always sold out, and each come with various opening acts. Klein has performed there (more than once, probably) before films from the 1930s. Nice and well done, but I haven't felt a need to buy any of their CDs.
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I went in thinking I would order 20 or so, and I ended up getting 51. Sigh. And that counts the Debut Records story box as 1. But that's the only box that I bought. I wish they put some Mal Waldron on sale, but c'est la vie!
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I just heard one track from the Charlie Palmieri album last night on Jose Rizo's "Jazz On the Latin Side" radio show - excellent. Time to get that album. Just before it he played an even better track (IMHO) called "Moses" by the Harold Johnson Sextet, album "The House on Elm Street" out on Vintage. But Amazon doesn't carry it. Any ideas where it might be found? I guess descarga if no where else.