B.B. King (quoted in the Sunday Times of London, Nov. 4, 1984)
Via TT at About Last Night
Lee Arthur Warren Ingalls - Writer, Performer, Etc.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Quotating: B.B. King
"Jazz is the big brother of the blues. If a guy's playing blues like we play, he's in high school. When he starts playing jazz it's like going on to college, to a school of higher learning."
Via TT at About Last Night
Via TT at About Last Night
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Viddie: Andy Scott's Fishin
Newly minted whimsy by Andy Cahill to accompany the tune "Fishin'" from Andy Scott's "Don't Tempt Fate."
And while we're on the subject, you can read my ambivalent review of the album.
More info here:
andyjazz.com
myspace.com/andyscottjazz
Monday, April 13, 2009
Buy music to smash atoms by
FYI - The music for the documentary The Atom Smashers is available for download tomorrow from the good folks at Ghostly.Read about the documentary and the music and then click your way to additional reading from here:
"Music to smash atoms by" - TNLD 10/2008----
Tip via the Atom Smashers blog.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Adventures in Dogwalking
The length of unshoveled sidewalk between us had been tromped into single-file trench. The other guy and his dog stood at the other end waving for Gordy and me to come on through. Back at my end of the trough, I was thinking about crossing the street, but Kenmore was looking pretty slushy and full of melty chemicals that are unfriendly to dog feet. So I took the other guy's offer.
Gordy is in most respects an upstanding animal, but he does tend to lose his cool around other dogs, complete with the apeshit yapping and even the occasional throat lunge. We used to have a big dog, three times Gordy's size, who thought this was a blast. Most people and dogs you meet out on the street are not so understanding.
So halfway through the trench, I scooped Gordy up and prepared my usual explanation: "This one's a troublemaker," or words to that effect. As we passed, the other guy's dog rose up tentatively on its hind legs for a polite sniff, and I said something like, "Well, aren't you a cutie," because it was indeed a cute dog, a tawny mid-sized whippet-pinscher mix. I was about to turn and say thanks to the other guy when he erupted.
"You're not even gonna say thank you? What an ASSHOLE!"
With that, he stomped off down the little snow ditch, yanking the whippet-pinscher mix behind him. The next words from me were the thanks he was apparently so in need of, but his reply was to yell, "Fuck you, man!"
Like the first thing he said, this came out sounding so wounded and plaintive and out of proportion that I was trying not to laugh when I called out another thanks and added a wish for a good evening. Still clomping away, the other guy hollered back another F bomb, adding his hope that Gordy would someday get hit by a car. I called back another wish for a good evening and closed with a "God bless!" that I'll admit strayed into Jerry Lewis territory.
As Gordy and I went on up the street, I tried but failed to maintain any sense of offense as the whole business quickly transmuted into satire. Sure, my mind churned out the usual sarcastic things that tend to come to you after such an encounter, but it was also turning every "fuck" the other guy said into "flurg," making it even more difficult not to laugh, because to me, "Flurg you, man!" is pretty fucking funny.
Of course, I still feel sorry for the other guy's dog.
Gordy is in most respects an upstanding animal, but he does tend to lose his cool around other dogs, complete with the apeshit yapping and even the occasional throat lunge. We used to have a big dog, three times Gordy's size, who thought this was a blast. Most people and dogs you meet out on the street are not so understanding.
So halfway through the trench, I scooped Gordy up and prepared my usual explanation: "This one's a troublemaker," or words to that effect. As we passed, the other guy's dog rose up tentatively on its hind legs for a polite sniff, and I said something like, "Well, aren't you a cutie," because it was indeed a cute dog, a tawny mid-sized whippet-pinscher mix. I was about to turn and say thanks to the other guy when he erupted.
"You're not even gonna say thank you? What an ASSHOLE!"
With that, he stomped off down the little snow ditch, yanking the whippet-pinscher mix behind him. The next words from me were the thanks he was apparently so in need of, but his reply was to yell, "Fuck you, man!"
Like the first thing he said, this came out sounding so wounded and plaintive and out of proportion that I was trying not to laugh when I called out another thanks and added a wish for a good evening. Still clomping away, the other guy hollered back another F bomb, adding his hope that Gordy would someday get hit by a car. I called back another wish for a good evening and closed with a "God bless!" that I'll admit strayed into Jerry Lewis territory.
As Gordy and I went on up the street, I tried but failed to maintain any sense of offense as the whole business quickly transmuted into satire. Sure, my mind churned out the usual sarcastic things that tend to come to you after such an encounter, but it was also turning every "fuck" the other guy said into "flurg," making it even more difficult not to laugh, because to me, "Flurg you, man!" is pretty fucking funny.
Of course, I still feel sorry for the other guy's dog.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Words and Music: Xi Chuan and, later, Ken Nordine
Just in time for Friday the 13th, Anthony Tao posts this video of poet Xi Chuan and musician Bruce Gremo performing at the Beijing Bookworm International Literary Festival.
The Tao notes on his Heart of Beijing blog:
I agree.
And this led me to think of Ken Nordine, who managed to make this out of Edward Lear:
A happy Friday the 13th to one and all.
The Tao notes on his Heart of Beijing blog:
The instrument Gremo is playing is called the celia and is apparently the only of its kind in existence in the world. I believe it.
Xi Chuan had his Chinese poems translated into English, which he read with slight difficulty. He paused during one poem to ask Bruce how to pronounce "infinitum," which he pronounced as "in-finy-i-tum." He also had a weird way of pronouncing "mosquito" as "moss-guy-to," but we understood. The mispronunciations actually enhanced the overall esthetic effect, I thought. They were going after a certain mood characterized by unfamiliarity and otherworldliness, and I think it was better that the poet read read in an alien tongue...
I agree.
And this led me to think of Ken Nordine, who managed to make this out of Edward Lear:
A happy Friday the 13th to one and all.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Viddie: Semi-Simple Variations (TBP)
Finally, a notable jazz video less than 40 years old. No doubt it took a lot of arm twisting to get superlative geek jazzers The Bad Plus to play along in this video accompaniment to their recording of modernist composer Milton Babbitt's "Semi-Simple Variations." The track is from TBP's album "For All I Care" out last month on Concord.
Tip: Do the Math, The Bad Plus Blog, which has stills from the shoot and, as if to justify the peripatetic eye-candy, an essay by pianist Ethan Iverson on the blending of jazz and classic forms. (They also express the hope that Babbitt gets a chance to see the video before his 92nd birthday in May. I'm sure Rush would also appreciate a similar treatment for TBP's cover of Tom Sawyer.)
More on Babbitt (TNLD's own justification for the aforementioned leggy goodness, you ask? Uh huh.): AN NPR interview with the "difficult" composer
Tip: Do the Math, The Bad Plus Blog, which has stills from the shoot and, as if to justify the peripatetic eye-candy, an essay by pianist Ethan Iverson on the blending of jazz and classic forms. (They also express the hope that Babbitt gets a chance to see the video before his 92nd birthday in May. I'm sure Rush would also appreciate a similar treatment for TBP's cover of Tom Sawyer.)
More on Babbitt (TNLD's own justification for the aforementioned leggy goodness, you ask? Uh huh.): AN NPR interview with the "difficult" composer
Friday, February 13, 2009
Fessing up
The news of singer Blossom Dearie's death at age 84 last weekend has inspired a host of tribute posts this week, many of them with mp3s or YouTube videos attached. I've enjoyed reading them all. While I generally try to keep this an obit-free zone, the occasion prompts me to offer a long-overdue apology to my first wife.
It was the late 80s and, as was so often the case, we found ourselves short on cash and decided to sell some old LPs at one of the record stores in Westport. One of those old records was a Blossom Dearie album (I've forgotten which). Janis had played some of it for me once and I suspect that I heard the little girl voice and saw the cutey pie on the cover and, knowing Janis's love of mid-century kitsch, wrote the whole thing off as an affectation. The album soon disappeared down the gaping maw of Penny Lane (probably) where it hopefully found a more unanimously appreciative home.
So let me officially declare: Boy, was I wrong about Blossom Dearie. She was the real deal. Over the years I grew into an outright fan, although there was always a nagging regret about that lost disc of vinyl. It also bothered me to be have been complicit in an economic argument trumping an aesthetic one. Life's too short for that.
And so the apologies: Sorry, Janis, that you had to part with your treasure. And likewise to you, Ms. Dearie, wherever you are, for not listening well enough at first.
-----
Further Blossom Dearie clickage
About Last Night - Teachout says he first heard BD in 1979 and "became a fan on the spot." Way to go, smartypants.
DJA's Secret Society - who never seems to miss a trick
Fernham - cutely calls Dearie's style "ultra-white"
Rifftides - also has a fascinating note from Dave Frishberg about how Dearie's piano playing influenced Bill Evans. Fascinating, I tells ya!
There Stands the Glass - hurry while link lasts
JazzWax - a wealth of interesting details
NYT obit by Stephen Holden
LA Times obit by Jon Thurber
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