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unitedstatesofworld · 2 months ago

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Behind the Music: The Story of Jelly Roll’s Wife

When it comes to country rap music, one name that has steadily gained recognition is Jelly Roll. Known for his raw lyrics and larger-than-life persona, Jelly Roll has captivated audiences across the globe. But behind every successful man, there’s often a strong woman. Enter Jelly Roll wife, a vital part of his journey and someone who’s been a source of inspiration, strength, and love. But who exactly is she, and how has she influenced the life and career of the artist? Let’s take a deep dive into the life of the woman who stands by his side.

Who Is Jelly Roll’s Wife?

Jelly Roll, born Jason DeFord, has been open about his personal life, sharing his struggles, successes, and, most importantly, his love story with his wife, Bunnie DeFord. Known as Bunnie XO to her fans, Jelly Roll’s wife is much more than just the partner of a famous musician. She’s a model, podcast host, and entrepreneur in her own right.

How Did They Meet?

Now, here’s a question that often sparks curiosity—how did Jelly Roll meet his wife? Their love story is as unique as his music. They first crossed paths when Jelly Roll was performing at a club. Sparks flew, and it wasn’t long before their connection deepened into something more. Their chemistry was undeniable, and before long, they were inseparable!

The Role Bunnie Plays in Jelly Roll’s Career

You might wonder, how much of an impact has Jelly Roll’s wife had on his career? The answer: a lot! Not only has she been a constant source of support, but Bunnie has also helped manage some of his business ventures, all while maintaining her successful career. She’s been instrumental in shaping his personal and professional life, helping him balance his hectic touring schedule and family commitments.

What Sets Their Relationship Apart?

The couple is very open about their journey, especially when it comes to their struggles. Both Jelly Roll and Bunnie have been candid about their pasts, which were riddled with challenges, but that’s part of what makes their bond so strong. The resilience they’ve shown as a couple proves that their relationship is built on trust, understanding, and growth. Isn’t that what we all strive for?

The Power of Love and Resilience

It’s clear that love and resilience are at the core of their relationship. Jelly Roll’s wife has stood by him through thick and thin, from his early days of scraping by in the music industry to his rise to fame. It’s not always rainbows and butterflies, though. They’ve openly discussed their struggles, particularly with addiction and mental health, but they’ve always found their way back to each other. Talk about couple goals!

What We Can Learn from Their Journey

If there’s one takeaway from the relationship between Jelly Roll and his wife, it’s this: love is not just about the good times. True love shines brightest in the darkest moments. Their relationship teaches us that resilience and unconditional support are the foundation of any long-lasting partnership. And really, who wouldn’t want to find a love like that?

Bunnie XO: More Than Just Jelly Roll’s Wife

While she may be recognized as Jelly Roll’s wife, Bunnie XO has built a name for herself. She runs her own podcast called "Dumb Blonde" and has a strong following on social media. In many ways, she’s just as much of a powerhouse as her husband! From her modeling career to her podcast success, Bunnie’s entrepreneurial spirit is something to admire.

Family First: Parenting Together

Jelly Roll and Bunnie are also parents, and they’re extremely proud of the family they’ve built together. Jelly Roll has a daughter from a previous relationship, and Bunnie has embraced her role as a stepmother with open arms. The two of them share a deep bond with their daughter, and family is undoubtedly at the heart of everything they do. Isn’t that what life is all about?

Life in the Spotlight

Of course, life in the public eye isn’t always easy, especially when you’re part of the entertainment world. However, Jelly Roll’s wife seems to handle the spotlight with grace. She’s been a steadfast partner throughout his career, handling fame and all its challenges with her characteristic poise.

Their Secrets to Keeping the Romance Alive

So, how do they keep the romance alive? One word: balance. Despite their busy schedules, the couple makes time for each other. Whether it’s enjoying quiet moments at home or supporting each other’s professional endeavors, they prioritize their relationship, and that’s why it works.

Conclusion

At the end of the day, the story of Jelly Roll’s wife is a testament to the power of love, resilience, and partnership. Bunnie XO may be known as Jelly Roll’s wife, but she’s so much more than that. She’s a businesswoman, a supportive partner, a loving mother, and an individual with her own passions and goals. Together, they’ve built a life filled with music, love, and family. If you ever need a reminder of what true partnership looks like, just take a look at Jelly Roll and Bunnie. They’ve shown that with love and persistence, anything is possible!

#Jelly Roll wife #Celebrity Love

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topcurrentnews · 1 year ago

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fanmoose12 · 4 years ago

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Are you still taking prompt? If you do, I have a request. Hange lives beside Mikasa's house. Levi saw her when he was forced to babysit Mikasa, his cousin, for a day. After that, Levi is really attracted to Hange, he even offered to babysit Mikasa (which he never did before) to see Hange. Levi is that tsundere guy who tends to do stupid things to get his crush attention. He even told Mikasa to accidentally get lost to Hange house so that he has an alibi to talk to her. The rest is up to you 😂

"Mikasa, please."

"No."

"Mikasa, I'm-" he was well above begging, but- "I'm asking you."

Mikasa's dark eyes peered into his. Levi didn't like the look inside them. The annoying brat lifted the corners of her lips, and Levi bit down a curse. If he ever dared to curse in front of his cousin, she'd rat him out in no time. She would tell her mother, or worse, his mother. He still hadn’t forgotten the previous lecture about proper behavior in the presence of children.

"If I help you..." Mikasa twirled a lock of her hair, looking far too innocent for Levi's taste. With Mikasa, innocuous face always meant trouble. "What will I get out of it?"

Kenny's influence in action, Levi thought grimly. Maybe, he should talk with Mikasa's parents about him. Obviously, the fucker wasn't good for their daughter.

Looking at Mikasa, Levi sighed. "I'll buy you an ice-cream."

"Mm," Mikasa raised her gaze to the celling, pressing a finger to her mouth. For a moment, she appeared to be deep in thought. Levi was already starting to celebrate his victory. But then-

"No," she declared. "Ice cream is not enough."

Levi swallowed down a "greedy brat" and offered, "I'll take you to the cinema."

Mikasa grimaced. "I don't want to go to the cinema with you."

Levi closed his eyes, counting to ten. He was going to refrain from calling his cousin a fucking nuisance. Otherwise, his mother would have his head.

"Fine," he grunted, glaring at her. Mikasa met his eyes with an equally dark expression. "What do you want?"

Mikasa smiled, as though she was waiting for this question since the very beginning of their negotiation.

"You're going to let me stay at your place. And you're going to let me invite Eren and Armin for a sleepover. And you're going to buy us as many snacks as we want."

"Oi-" Levi started only to be interrupted by Mikasa.

"Do you want me to bring Hange-san here or not?"

"...Yes."

Mikasa outstretched her little hand to him. "Do we have a deal then?"

Levi accepted his defeat with a long sigh. "We do," he answered, shaking her hand.

His plan was simple - stupid, Mikasa had called it, but what could that brat know - and Levi was confident in its success.

"That's all I have to do?" Mikasa asked. "Just go to Hange-san's house?"

"And tell her that you're lost." Levi reminded.

"You know that Hange-san is smart, right? She would never believe in this."

"Convince her then."

"But-"

"I'll let you pick any movie you want. And you can stay up all night."

Mikasa narrowed her eyes. "This is manipulation."

Levi shrugged. He was not above exploiting his cousin. And he wasn’t ashamed of it.

"Just do your job,” he instructed.

"Fine!" Mikasa stomped her feet, giving him a look so dark Levi was actually impressed. "I'll do it. But you have to promise that you won't bother us during the sleepover."

Levi rolled his eyes, for the thousandth times cursing his cousin. Why in the world she was so goddamn difficult, girls her age should be polite and timid, not so disrespectful and greedy. "Cross my heart and hope to die," he gritted through teeth. "Now go."

***

Glued to the window, Levi intently watched the street, waiting to see Mikasa's gloomy face and - hopefully - the pretty face of her neighbour, Hange Zoe.

Levi had met her a month ago, during the weekend that he was once again forced to spend babysitting his annoying cousin. He was trying to teach Mikasa how to ride a bike, when he saw her for the first time - Hange Zoe was tending to the small garden on her front lawn. Wearing denim overalls and a straw hat, with a soft smile on her pretty, round face, she was a sight Levi couldn't tear his gaze off.

He spent an embarrassingly long moment, staring at her, until Hange finally took notice of him and Mikasa. She greeted his cousin with a wave of a hand, beckoning her to come closer. Reluctantly - Levi wasn't sure if the invitation included him too - he followed after Mikasa.

And that's when he learnt her name. And found out that Hange wasn't tending to a garden, but was actually picking insects for her pet tarantulas. That's when all hope was lost for him.

Hange Zoe was weird. She was messy. She was wild.

And Levi didn't believe in love at first glance, but- ever since that day he couldn't stop thinking about her.

He came to babysit Mikasa next week, and then a week after that. And soon what wasn't love at first sight quickly turned into an insufferable crush that left Levi feeling like he was turning into pathetic, lovesick fool.

He was thinking about Hange at work and at home. He was thinking about her during breakfast, lunch and dinner. He couldn’t get away from her even in his dreams. Hange took residence in his mind, stubbornly refusing to leave.

Every time they talked - Levi felt like the biggest idiot in the world. When Hange looked at him, his face burned. When she smiled, his heart was racing and his thoughts were turning into a mash.

Once Hange touched his hand, and Levi thought he was going to faint.

Being close with her was awful, being apart - felt even worse. That's why he had to request the help of his cousin. As annoying as she was, Mikasa was Levi's only link to his crush.

Staring at the empty lawn, Levi tapped his foot impatiently. What was taking Mikasa so long? Hange lived just across the street.

Levi swept his eyes across the road again and- hurriedly backed away from the window, closing the curtain.

Mikasa was almost next to the door. And with her was Hange.

Levi desperately tried to calm his wildly beating heart. It refused to listen to his order. He took a shuddering breath and the doorbell rang. He rushed to answer it.

"Hello!" Hange chirped, as he opened the door.

Their eyes met, and Levi felt his knees turn to jelly.

"Hi," he echoed quietly.

"This is kinda awkward," Hange chuckled, the sound like a music to Levi's ears. "But I found your cousin sitting on my doorstep? Mikasa said she was lost?" she laughed again, rubbing her neck. "We've been neighbours for years, don't know how that's possible..."

"He made me do it," Mikasa pointed at Levi, a wicked glint in her eyes. "He wanted to talk to you, Hange-san, but couldn't find a reason."

Mikasa was gone as soon as she finished. She ran past Levi and rushed upstairs. He watched her disappear, a thousand curses at the tip of his tongue. Cousin or not, he was going to murder the brat.

"Um, Levi?" Hange's voice distracted him from thinking where he could hide the body. "Did Mikasa-"

"She's an idiot." Levi glowered.

"So that was..."

This was it, Levi decided. Hange gave him a perfect opening. He was either going to confess his feelings or he was going to live out his days as a lonely, pathetic coward. The time has come, now he had to gather all of his courage and-

"Mikasa is very bad at pranks."

...And he was going to die as a coward.

"Oh, alright," Hange nodded, shuffling her feet awkwardly. "I'll go then... If Mikasa was lying and you don't wish to hang out together..."

Oh what a sympathetic, kind person. She was giving him a second chance. Would he be able to use it?

Levi pictured Mikasa's wicked smile and all of the mocking he would have to go through if she finds out that he wasted a perfect opportunity to confess. It gave Levi the strength and resolve he so badly needed.

He took a deep breath, looked Hange in the eyes and-

"Mikasa wasn't actually lying," he whispered.

Instantly, maintaining eye contact became too arduous of a task, and Levi shamefully lowered his gaze.

He thought of closing the door in her face and then changing his name to move to another country, but then- Hange gingerly touched his arm. Her hand was warm and her skin was soft. Levi was dangerously close to swooning.

“Wanna go to my place?” she offered, and Levi thought that if Hange asked, he’d follow her to the ends of Earth. “I can introduce you to Sawney and Bean?”

“Sawney and Bean?”

“My pet tarantulas!” Hange proudly answered.

Levi hated spiders. Just the thought of their small hairy legs made him shudder and squirm. But- it was Hange who was asking, and he was sick of being a coward.

Besides, what was a spider compared to speaking about his feelings? A walk in a park...

“Just let me grab my jacket,” he told Hange.

The smile she gave him as an answer was bright enough to blind him.

Maybe, he’ll put off Mikasa’s murder for a while.

#this had been sitting in my asks for too long...#sorry for being so slow anon! but the prompt is really gold #levihan

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kemetic-dreams · 4 years ago

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Ragtime originated in African American music in the late 19th century and descended from the jigs and march music played by African American bands, referred to as "jig piano" or "piano thumping".

By the start of the 20th century, it became widely popular throughout North America and was listened and danced to, performed, and written by people of many different subcultures. A distinctly American musical style, ragtime may be considered a synthesis of African syncopation and European classical music, especially the marches made popular by John Philip Sousa.

Some early piano rags are entitled marches, and "jig" and "rag" were used interchangeably in the mid-1890s.Ragtime was also preceded by its close relative the cakewalk. In 1895, African entertainer Ernest Hogan composed two of the earliest sheet music rags, one of which ("All Coons Look Alike to Me") eventually sold a million copies. The other composition was called "La Pas Ma La", and it was also a hit.

As African musician Tom Fletcher said, Hogan was the "first to put on paper the kind of rhythm that was being played by non-reading musicians." While the song's success helped introduce the country to ragtime rhythms, its use of racial slurs created a number of derogatory imitation tunes, known as "coon songs" because of their use of racist and stereotypical images of Africans. In Hogan's later years, he admitted shame and a sense of "race betrayal" from the song, while also expressing pride in helping bring ragtime to a larger audience.

The emergence of mature ragtime is usually dated to 1897, the year in which several important early rags were published. In 1899, Scott Joplin's "Maple Leaf Rag" was published and became a great hit and demonstrated more depth and sophistication than earlier ragtime. Ragtime was one of the main influences on the early development of jazz (along with the blues). Some artists, such as Jelly Roll Morton, were present and performed both ragtime and jazz styles during the period the two styles overlapped. He also incorporated the Spanish Tinge in his performances, which gave a habanera or tango rhythm to his music. Jazz largely surpassed ragtime in mainstream popularity in the early 1920s, although ragtime compositions continue to be written up to the present, and periodic revivals of popular interest in ragtime occurred in the 1950s and the 1970s.

The heyday of ragtime occurred before sound recording was widely available. Like classical music, and unlike jazz, classical ragtime had and has primarily a written tradition, being distributed in sheet music rather than through recordings or by imitation of live performances. Ragtime music was also distributed via piano rolls for player pianos. A folk ragtime tradition also existed before and during the period of classical ragtime (a designation largely created by Scott Joplin's publisher John Stillwell Stark), manifesting itself mostly through string bands, banjo and mandolin clubs (which experienced a burst of popularity during the early 20th century) and the like.

A form known as novelty piano (or novelty ragtime) emerged as the traditional rag was fading in popularity. Where traditional ragtime depended on amateur pianists and sheet music sales, the novelty rag took advantage of new advances in piano-roll technology and the phonograph record to permit a more complex, pyrotechnic, performance-oriented style of rag to be heard. Chief among the novelty rag composers is Zez Confrey, whose "Kitten on the Keys" popularized the style in 1921.

Ragtime also served as the roots for stride piano, a more improvisational piano style popular in the 1920s and 1930s. Elements of ragtime found their way into much of the American popular music of the early 20th century. It also played a central role in the development of the musical style later referred to as Piedmont blues; indeed, much of the music played by such artists of the style as Reverend Gary Davis, Blind Boy Fuller, Elizabeth Cotten, and Etta Baker could be referred to as "ragtime guitar."

Although most ragtime was composed for piano, transcriptions for other instruments and ensembles are common, notably including Gunther Schuller's arrangements of Joplin's rags. Ragtime guitar continued to be popular into the 1930s, usually in the form of songs accompanied by skilled guitar work. Numerous records emanated from several labels, performed by Blind Blake, Blind Boy Fuller, Lemon Jefferson, and others. Occasionally ragtime was scored for ensembles (particularly dance bands and brass bands) similar to those of James Reese Europe or as songs like those written by Irving Berlin. Joplin had long-standing ambitions of synthesizing the worlds of ragtime and opera, to which end the opera Treemonisha was written. However, its first performance, poorly staged with Joplin accompanying on the piano, was "disastrous" and was never performed again in Joplin's lifetime.[The score was lost for decades, then rediscovered in 1970, and a fully orchestrated and staged performance took place in 1972. An earlier opera by Joplin, A Guest of Honor, has been lost

The rag was a modification of the march made popular by John Philip Sousa, with additional polyrhythms coming from African music.It was usually written in 2/4 or 4/4 time with a predominant left-hand pattern of bass notes on strong beats (beats 1 and 3) and chords on weak beats (beat 2 and 4) accompanying a syncopated melody in the right hand. According to some sources the name "ragtime" may come from the "ragged or syncopated rhythm" of the right hand. A rag written in 3/4 time is a "ragtime waltz."

European Classical composers were influenced by the form. The first contact with ragtime was probably at the Paris Exposition in 1900, one of the stages of the European tour of John Philip Sousa. The first notable classical composer to take a serious interest in ragtime was Antonín Dvořák.

French composer Claude Debussy emulated ragtime in three pieces for piano. The best-known remains the Golliwog's Cake Walk (from the 1908 Piano Suite Children's Corner). He later returned to the style with two preludes for piano: Minstrels, (1910) and General Lavine-excentric (from his 1913 Préludes), which was inspired by a Médrano circus clown

#african music #kemetic dreams #african culture #ragtime #syncopated rhythm #paris #jazz music #jazz

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theessaflett · 4 years ago

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What I Did On My Summer Holidays: Musings on my trip to Peru

It’s the heat that I remember the most. It was a blazing, unrepentant constant in this land of unrepentant constants; unrepentant rock, unrepentant tree branches, unrepentant dust, unrepentant altitude.

I was nineteen. I was in Peru on a trip I’d expected to be the trip of a lifetime, and which was turning out to be very possibly the trip of my lifetime in a way rather different to how I’d intended.

It was week three of my time in the country, so very distant from my home in London, and I’d already nearly died being thrown off a horse onto rocky terrain - not to mention all the times I’d prayed for death from flu, altitude sickness and food poisoning and, cough, “alcohol poisoning”. (No-one had warned me about the effects I might experience after drinking tequila at several thousand feet…!) I was a member of a student-led drama group, touring around the country performing our - quite frankly, pretty bad - short devised theatre show to unsuspecting, puzzled children in schools and orphanages all over Peru.

None of us were over the age of 24; several of us, including me, couldn’t speak Spanish. We got into the cars of strange men, hoping that they were indeed going where they promised to take us. We got stuck at the side of a dirt track waiting for a tuk-tuk to take us back to the city and then discovered, in the scorching midday sun, that we had run out of water. Someone ate hand-skinned rabbit, roasted on a stick outside our accommodation, and was horribly ill in the communal bathroom. Someone managed to get dangerously lost on a hike up a mountain and wandered round the forest for hours with only coca leaves to eat, ending up trying to follow a small stream with the hope of finding her way out again (she did, looking decidedly worse for wear!) We somehow managed to get stuck with someone’s ex-boyfriend who stayed with us for a week and insisted on doing cocaine (the most mortifying moment of his stay with us was when he asked the headmaster of a community music school at which we were performing if he could sell him coke.) Three of the troupe went out nightclubbing in Lima and did the show the next morning a horrible shade of grey, taking it in turns to run to the toilet during the group chorus songs. We went on a 2-day tourist trip on a bus full of excited Germans and it poured with rain the whole time - I’m talking trying to dry sopping wet, freezing underwear under a icy cold hand dryer in a bleak roadside toilet level of rain - so all we saw was a castle that was purely hypothetical under all that mist and some sort of coin factory.

The hypothetical castle.

Our bus nearly reversed off a cliff. (No, it turns out it’s not actually fun to role-play the end of the Italian Job.) We went to a salt mine - without doubt the most dangerous tourist attraction I’ve ever visited - and I nearly fell in.

We cooed over a clay container of adorable guinea pigs then screamed when we realised that their fate was to be impaled on a skewer, roasted and offered to us as street snack.

Me standing in front of the cage of the doomed guinea pigs, drinking coca and trying to like it. (My face says it all.)

We sprinted for rickety local planes, bargained with bad-tempered taxi drivers, feared for death as we screamed through Lima on a tuk-tuk that seemed horrifyingly ill equipped to deal with the sheer mayhem, then decided that wasn’t so bad after all when our next ride was in a car where the windscreen was half-shattered and I had to hold the door closed as we drove.

Sometimes we ate well; sometimes we literally only ate rice, Inka Cola and the Peruvian equivalent of digestive biscuits. We performed our cheery little show in orphanages so bleak we sat in saddened silence for the entire journey back to our accommodation and in a tiny little tin hut that proclaimed itself a library despite being in a dusty car parking lot - so dusty, in fact, that after trying to lead a movement game outside for five minutes I had to find a concrete step on which to sit as I frantically tried to wheeze air back into my lungs, my body covered both inside and out in the bright orange dirt found everywhere in these poorer urban areas.

We performed in hospitals so rural that the women still wore traditional hats and skirts, in a decidedly unfriendly posh school for the children of American diplomats, on a football field in the dark, in a Evangelical Christian institution where they admirably tried to convert us to Jesus Christ despite the language barrier…

Yes, it’s safe to say that my life had flashed before my eyes several times before this moment, in the blazing heat. But despite all the struggles and difficulties listed above I had made it to week three, just about intact, and I had made it to the prize at the end of our trip here in Peru: the chance to visit Machu Picchu. And here, on the last leg on this journey, on what was meant to be the relaxing activity to celebrate a successful theatre tour, was when my body finally gave up.

Not wishing to seem like the weakling of the group - as you may have already guessed I had a bit of a reputation for being eternally ill by this point- I agreed to climb up a mountain path to see the sights of such a famous place. The first half hour was unpleasant but possible; sweat stickily trickled down my neck and soaked my thin grey tank top as I climbed up the steep grey stone steps cut by masochists several centuries earlier. There’s a photo taken at about the one hour mark. I look like someone who’s beginning to realise that this hasn’t been a fantastic call of judgement but is going to keep going because going back isn’t actually that much of an option either, thank you, look that steep descent there, so let’s just keep going shall we and not think too much about how much trouble we’re probably in-

I am smiling, but my face screams THIS IS NOT MY NATURAL HABITAT.

Stupidly, I kept climbing. Climbing, climbing, climbing.

It turned out that the view from the top may have been fabulous but the way up was really quite monotonously similar; yes, the forest surrounding us was beautiful but, I thought rather sourly, it had also been beautiful further down. The view of the buildings of Machu Picchu were now in fact nearly entirely covered by trees and as we kept climbing the trees continued to get thicker.

Brightly coloured butterflies started to land on me as I pushed through greenery, lightly flickering against my boots and trousers before flying off again, mocking me in their ease to get higher up this infernal mountain. Finally, so frustratingly close to the summit that I could see it but literally unable to take another step, I gave up, lay down and proclaimed that I had stopped. As people stepped over me with pitying glances I squinted up into the sun and decided that I didn’t like Peru very much. At that point a member of the team, another teenager who was pale and not very athletic, panted up next to me and helped roll me over so I was at least able to admire the view we’d half-killed ourselves for. It was stunning, the green luscious forest melding into formidable mountain peaks and, as always, that bright, bright blue sky.

“ESSA!” A hand dragged me back - In my exhaustion I’d wriggled to try and find a more comfortable position on which to sit in amongst all the rocks and grass and had nearly slid off the mountain. It says something to my sheer exhaustion that I just laughed. “Quicker way back down,” I’m pretty sure I joked as I ate my 235th packet of Peruvian digestives.

The midday sun began to beat down relentlessly as I reapplied Factor 50 with the rising suspicion that it wasn’t doing very much. My companion suggested that it was time to head back down, I reluctantly agreed and then tried to stand up.

This was when it all went horribly wrong.

My legs wouldn’t work. They had turned to pure jelly, and as I stood there leaning against a tree, black spots circling my vision, everything shaking, squinting through the sweat sliding into my eyes, I knew I was in genuine trouble. “I can’t move,`’ I croaked to my friend with the sort of calm alarm that only comes with a genuine problem. “Just go slowly, you’ll be fine!” he suggested with the helpfulness of an eighteen year old boy. “No, I mean I CAN’T MOVE.”

He doubled back to where I was stuck, his panic rising with my resignation.

Things are pretty blurry from here on out, probably from a mix of sheer exhaustion and heat, but here’s some of the things I remember seriously suggesting:

Ask the staff to fly out a helicopter to where I was stranded (never mind it was a narrow stone path halfway up a mountain, I clearly hadn’t thought that far ahead)

Just leave me here, I’m sure I’ll think of something

CARRY ME

Just leave me here to die, I’ve had a good life (I do remember half-seriously saying that one multiple times)

This team member, despite also being a teenager, despite also being exhausted and dripping with sweat, did none of those things. Instead, step by step, inch by agonising inch, ignoring my cursing and pleading and insisting that I couldn’t go any further, he literally talked - and occasionally dragged - me down a mountain. By the time we’d arrived at the bottom the only thing that he could do with me was prop me up against a shaded wall - incidentally, a wall that proved to be the congregating place for the llamas to come and relieve themselves, which was a very alarming blurry image to look up and see coming towards you when you’re out of it with heatstroke, let me tell you - and leave me to muse on how I was never going to go up another hill ever again.

Up close and personal.

When I tried to thank him later, he waved it off. I’d shared my water with him and hadn’t teased him for missing breakfast tea; he’d looked out for me in return.

This rather improbably and ridiculous story, I believe, is a perfect example of humans being humans. Whenever human endurance is mentioned, it is often in the guise of phenomenal trips to the Artic or the Amazon; few documentaries are dedicated to the sheer miracle of the everyday ability of everyday humans such as myself to simply pick ourselves up and… Just. Keep. Going.

Whenever human fellowship is mentioned, it is often in the guise of unbelievable acts of heroics, of self-sacrifice, of incredible feats that are deserving of medals and knighthoods; few books are dedicated to the simple choice to help a struggling friend, be that up an arid Peruvian mountain or in the office as they try to help get the printer to work before a big meeting.

It probably doesn’t mean much to that person now, so many years on, that they didn’t leave me stranded beside that tree. But it meant the world to me then, and I often still think on it now.

None of us have to show our fellowship to each other in gigantic, monumental ways.

All we have to do, to be good humans, is to look out for those crumpled on all sorts of different kinds of stone steps, both physical and metaphorical, and offer them a helping hand.

I can say with absolute confidence that it will always be appreciated.

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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Who Was Ma Rainey’s Real Band?

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Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom is one of those rare films with only one major setting: a Chicago recording studio in 1927. The entire film, and the play it was based on, tells the story of four backing musicians waiting for Madame “Ma” Rainey (Viola Davis) to arrive and cut some sides. According to the label on the 78, Rainey’s 1927 recording of “’Ma’ Rainey’s Black Bottom” and her remake of “Moonshine Blues” of that year was done by “Ma” Rainey and her Georgia Jazz Band.

The Musicians

There are no session notes on the musicians who played on the title song of the Netflix film. Indeed, when Den of Geek sat down with the cast of Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom actor Glynn Turman told us, “We found photographs of her band members, but that was the closest and most detailed information that we had. Not so much as any particular story about any one of the band members, but we did see photographs of the groups, and the sometimes different groups.”

However, Ragtimedorianhenry.com does at least list three of the four musicians who backed Rainey on her ode to bootleg hooch. Albert Wynn played the tuba, which was translated into the upright bass for the film. The bassist in the film is named Slow Drag (Michael Potts), and according to a synopsis for the play it’s based on, Slow Drag got his name from a gig where he slow-danced with women for hours for money. Conversely, low register horn player Wynn fronted many of his own bands: Al Wynn And His Gutbucket Five, Al Wynn’s Gutbucket Seven, Albert Wynn’s Creole Jazz Band, as well as filling a seat with Fletcher Henderson and His Orchestra.

The clarinet player on the record is Artie Starks, a steady reedman who played with outfits like Albert Ammons and His Rhythm Kings, Preston Jackson’s Uptown Band, Richard Jones and His Jazz Wizards, and Starks Hot Five.

Levee (Chadwick Boseman) is the “talented and temperamental trumpet player” of the band, according to the playbill. He is the youngest, and is doing time playing in Rainey’s group until he can put together his own band. The cornet player on the actual recording is Shirley Clay.

Clay started playing when he was a teenager in St. Louis, Missouri, sometime around 1920. His early gigs included touring with John Williams’ Synco Jazzers. By the late 1920s and through the 1940s, he was a sought-out session player, backing artists like Billie Holiday, Cab Calloway, and The Mills Brothers, and swinging with Benny Goodman. He led his own band from 1944 to 1951.

The piano player is listed as unknown. While Rainey also worked with pianists Claude Hopkins and Willie “the Lion” Smith in this period, based on the date of the recording sessions, the pianist was probably Lillian Hardaway Henderson, the wife of cornetist Fletcher Henderson, who became the leader of Rainey’s band. The play synopsis says guitar and trombone player Cutler (Colman Domingo) is the leader of all the other instrumentalists.

The film and play’s piano player is Toledo (Glynn Turman), who doubles as the band philosopher. He loves books and believes style and musicianship are the main contributors to performance. Rainey’s pianist also loved to read, and preferred musicians who could read notation.

Thomas A. Dorsey was also Ma’s manager, and musical arranger. He spotted the talent for Rainey’s touring ensemble, the Wild Cats Jazz Band. The musicians played blues, but also performed written sheet music for contemporary jazz numbers. Dorsey entered Rainey’s world in 1924. He left the touring band in 1926, but is credited in later sessions, including her last in 1928, for the songs “Black Eye Blues,” “Runaway Blues,” and “Sleep Talking Blues” with guitarist Hudson “Tampa Red” Whittaker.

“Georgia Tom” Dorsey is best known as “the father of Gospel music,” writing 3,000 songs, including “Peace in the Valley,” and working with legends like Mahalia Jackson.

Most of “Ma” Rainey’s songs were recorded under the name of “Ma” Rainey and her Georgia Jazz Band, which changed personnel frequently. It included such musicians as trombone players Wynn, Kid Ory, and Charlie Green and Al Wynn; reed players Don Redman, Buster Bailey, Coleman Hawkins, and Johnny Dodds. Rainey was also backed by pianist Jimmy Blythe and blues guitarist Blind Blake, as well as 12-string guitar player Miles Pruitt on the August 1924 eight-bar blues song “Shave ‘Em Dry.” Rainey was backed by trumpet players Tommy Ladnier, Artie Starks, Joe Smith, and Louis Armstrong.

Armstrong played cornet on her songs “Yonder Comes the Blues,” “Jelly Bean Blues,” “Moonshine Blues,” and “Countin’ the Blues.” When Rainey recorded her blues masterpiece “See See Rider Blues” in a New York studio in mid-October 1924, the lineup was Armstrong and Buster Bailey on cornet, Henderson on piano, Charlie Green on trombone,and Charlie Dixon on banjo. Armstrong never knifed anyone over a pair of shoes, but he kills on those songs.

The Studio

The sign outside the studio in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom says the label is Hot Rhythm Recordings, a play on a nickname for the “rhythm and blues” and jazz music of that era. In truth, however, Rainey recorded with Paramount Records between 1923 and 1928. Formerly known as Black Swan, the company was founded in 1920, and was the second Black-owned record label in history. It was bought out in January 1924, by M. A. Supper, changing it to a white-owned company. But its output throughout both eras was called “race records,” and they made bank.

“Ma” Rainey was immensely popular in the Southern theater circuit. She’d been a popular solo performer before she teamed with her husband William “Pa” Rainey, forming together the “Assassinators of the Blues.” In 1916, Rainey separated from her husband and toured with her own band, Madam Gertrude “Ma” Rainey and Her Georgia Smart Sets. Her tent shows featured a chorus line, a Cotton Blossoms Show, and Donald McGregor’s Carnival Show. Talent scout and recording session supervisor Mayo “Ink” Williams brought her in for her first Paramount recordings in 1923, three years after the first blues singles were recorded by Mamie Smith.

Williams was the first Black producer at a major record label, and the most successful blues producer of his time. He earned his nickname because he was very successful getting African American musicians signed to recording contracts. He’d move on to Decca Records in 1934 where he produced or wrote songs for a wide range of artists and genres, including jump blues, which became rock and roll.

Rainey was 37 years old when she signed with Paramount in December 1923. Rainey wrote 38 of the 92 songs she recorded, and her first session was recorded with Lovie Austin and Her Blue Serenaders. She and Lovie also recorded with Louis Armstrong for the label.

Bigger genre labels like Okeh Records and Columbia Records, where Bessie Smith was signed, had much better studios. This complaint makes it into Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom several times, especially when a perfect performance never makes it through the needle because of a faulty microphone. Sound quality for most of Rainey’s recordings suffered at Paramount. The company went bankrupt in the 1930s.

While recording at Paramount, the studio did arrange a very successful promotional tour. Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom includes scenes from Rainey’s run at the renowned Grand Theater on State Street in Chicago. Rainey was the first country-style blues artist to play the venerable room. This context is something the movie explores at length.

Culture

Ma Rainey’s Life and Reign as the Mother of the Blues

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Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom Ending Explained

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About that Windy City setting, Turman also tells us, “You got to remember, there had just been a race riot in Chicago [before the movie is set] because a young Black boy had gone swimming in the lake there. And there was a section that he was not supposed to cross as a result of the discrimination. And so they would not let him swim back to shore and he drowned… so we had to forge these characters with a certain amount of steel in their backbone, because these were guys who were going into an area that anything could happen to them at any time.”

Over a period of five years, Rainey performed and recorded with her Georgia Jazz Band, her Tub Jug Washboard Band, and female bandleader and jazz pianist Lovie Austin and the Blues Serenaders.

As the movie points out, Rainey never stopped performing live. “Ma” toured with her Wild Jazz Cats on the Theater Owners Booking Association circuit consistently. The recordings were secondary, after all the sessions. “Ma” Rainey stayed on the road until she retired, and even then, she ran two theaters.

Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom premieres on Netflix now.

*Additional reporting by Don Kaye.

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A Beer Lover’s Guide to Albuquerque’s Wells Park Breweries

Bow and Arrow Brewing in Albuquerque’s Wells Park neighborhood. (Credit: Efrain Villa)

April 13, 2017

The landscape in Albuquerque, New Mexico, does not prostrate to subtlety. Ten-thousand-foot peaks rise high above the urban valley’s east side, petroglyph-etched volcanoes flank the city to the west while the Rio Grande Bosque, a lush strip of cottonwood forest, lines the oldest neighborhoods in town.

With a setting this striking, it makes sense Albuquerqueans (Burqueños, if you’re in the know) would also have a flare for the dramatic.

(MORE: 10 April Fool’s Day Pranks from Breweries)

“Albuquerque is a place of bold people, colors and flavors,” says Jesse Herron, a local entrepreneur whose company, Albuquerque Tourism & Sightseeing Factory, offers various city tours, including a craft beer excursion aboard a 14-passenger bicycle. “We like our food spicy and flavorful, and so it’s obvious for our craft beers to reflect our bold character.”

However, that boldness is not always on showy display. Hidden within former warehouses along defunct railroad spurs and retired machinery, edgy breweries share real estate with maker spaces in the industrial neighborhood of Wells Park, which abuts downtown and the city’s original settlement, Old Town.

“Downtown and Old Town get all the attention from tourists,” says Herron. “But Wells Park’s breweries capture the understated spirit of today’s Albuquerque.”

Here’s our walkable guide to Wells Park’s breweries.

Bow and Arrow Brewing Company

Bow and Arrow opened its doors in February 2016 after years of planning.

“I had to jump through extra zoning hoops to locate here,” says Shyla Sheppard, owner and CEO. “I was committed, though, because it was also an investment in my own neighborhood.”

Built in the former Chaparral Electrical Warehouse, the award-winning architectural design elements of this brewery and taproom meld the industrial vibe of the neighborhood with the earthy tones and textures of the Southwest.

Upon entering, you walk through a short corridor with a series of windows into the brewery that progressively widen as you near the cavernous tasting room. “We’ve created a sense of anticipation with those glimpses into production because we want to foster appreciation for our craft,” says Sheppard.

During happy hour (Monday-Thursday, 3-6 p.m.), the suit-and-tie crowd from nearby downtown can be found mingling at the long tables underneath rustic chandeliers. There is also an upstairs area, complete with a kitchen, available for private parties. Throughout the building, Native American themed art is displayed. The brewery’s logo itself is part hop cone, part arrowhead.

The nods to indigenous elements do not end with décor. A glance at the menu reveals names like Sun Dagger Belgian-style Saison and Hoka Hey India Pale Ale, “hoka hey” being a Hidatsa indigenous expression that translates to “get ready.” For some homegrown flavor, try the Flint & Grit English Mild Hybrid, an English ale hybridized with local roasted blue corn. There is also a kombucha/lager blend for unconventional palates.

(MAP: Find a Brewery)

Tractor Brewing Company

From Bow and Arrow, walk south on Sixth St. two blocks. Turn east on Haines Ave toward Fourth St. Head south on Fourth St. for half a block. Tractor Brewing Company is on the left.

This brewery began in 1999 in the nearby town of Los Lunas and relocated its entire 15-barrel operation, vintage tractors and all, to a vacant furniture showroom in Wells Park in 2014, after negotiations fell through to secure the then-empty site on which Rio Bravo Brewing Company now sits.

Tractor Brewing in Albuquerque’s Wells Park neighborhood. (Credit: Tractor Brewing)

The brewery is well known for its support of local arts organizations through its Beers for a Better Burque Program. Regular community events here include live music, poetry slams, open mic nights, movie nights and Art Fight, which is a live art competition. The monthly rotating artwork on the walls is from local artists and it is worth noting the brewery does not collect a commission from art sales.

“Community is a strong component of everything we do,” says Tim Torres, quality assurance manager. “Even our relationship with the food trucks is part of that. We get to solely focus on what we do best, brewing and serving beer, and they provide delicious food to our customers.”

As for the 24 beers on tap, Torres is especially proud of the Pilsner #15 and Milk Mustachio Stout, which he says is “full of flavor and character and people really like the visual density when we put it on nitro.”

A barrel-aged sour debuts in spring.

(MORE: Are Experimental Hops the Future of IPA?)

Rio Bravo Brewing Company

From Tractor, head two blocks east on Hannet Ave. to Second St. then head two blocks north. Rio Bravo Brewing Company is on the right.

Established in 2015 in a former Firestone Tires plant on a sprawling 14,000 sq. ft. site, almost half of this brewery and taproom is outdoor patio space. On warm days, the beer garden is bustling with people, but things get significantly sparser when temperatures drop.

The owners, Randy and Denise Baker, are serious about their motto: “Live Bold.” From the tournament-size shuffleboard to the enormous fans above the bar, nothing about this place is small.

“With the jelly jar lighting and rolled trusses, this place feels like a huge Post-World War II bunker and it’s definitely way bigger than we planned, but it works,” says Randy.

Going big was not without challenges. “We tried for days to scrape off all the old, green paint from the floors and finally gave up,” says Randy. “But people always compliment the green floors now. It also got us to recycle some green tables that a local restaurant, Dion’s Pizza, was getting rid of.”

Expect to find strong flavors on tap. The Level 3 is a nuke-strength hoppy IPA (7.5% ABV, 110 IBU) and the Grab ‘Em by the Putin Russian Imperial Stout boasts a sensational 13.5% ABV. For the less brawny, the Randy Shandy hits the spot. Also worth a taste is the popular Piñon Coffee Porter, a collaboration with the New Mexico Piñon Coffee Company.

(MORE: Estimated Blood Alcohol Content Calculator)

Dialogue Brewing

From Rio Bravo Brewing, Dialogue Brewing is a two-block straight shot south on First St. Created by artists, film-makers and restaurateurs, this six-month-old brewery and taproom is part Burning Man dreamscape, part industrial minimalist experiment.

Dialogue Brewing in Albuquerque’s Wells Park neighborhood. (Credit: Efrain Villa)

Virtually everything under this 1920s warehouse’s bowstring roof is handcrafted to be greater than the sum of its parts. White birch and bamboo elements contrast against metal panels, light projection mapping and local artists’ works. Even the bar stools are distinctive, created through CNC machining, which is a process that combines computers and woodworking.

Despite modern conveniences like USB charging outlets, you will not find a single television screen.

“We left TVs out and created this cool community space so people socialize,” says Ian Graham, head brewer. “We’ve even had lyra hoop and aerial silk performances because these days it’s not enough to just make good beer, you also have to look good doing it.”

Efficient use of the small footprint was imperative. The seven-barrel system’s fermenters create a wall that separates the production area from the taproom. Outside, a small patio is decked out with six towering Rebar “tree” sculptures that also provide group seating. The sculptures weigh more than 7,000 lbs. and were buried eight feet into the ground to structurally support the 40 feet that jut out aboveground. Plans are in place to add plants to the tops of the sculptures to complement the $8,000 worth of exotic and native species currently planted.

The place is a feast for the eyes. “There’s even a hidden sculpture of the Sandia Mountains underneath the bar,” says Graham. “Basically, our staff put their hearts and souls into every detail of this place. They’re amazing and everyone is Cicerone Certified so they can educate our customers.”

Of the 12 beers on tap, sours and German-style lagers are the specialties of the house. The Belgian Citrus IPA was the runner-up in the Specialty Category of the National IPA Challenge.

“It’s expensive to produce that style because the hops come in at the end so we have to use more, but it’s worth it,” says Graham.

(MORE: What is Craft Beer?)

Marble Brewery

From Dialogue, walk south on First St. five blocks to reach Marble Brewery. This is the oldest brewery in the neighborhood, and it is a badge of honor for locals to say they knew Marble “before it was cool.” It has won at least nine GABF medals since 2011.

The small, original taproom, rumored to have been behind the city’s first food truck/brewery collaborative model, has been completely gutted and now sports a rooftop deck, outdoor stage, heated patio and the Abuelo Goyo mural by Nuezz, which is likely the most Instagrammed wall in town.

On a hot summer evening, it is common to see a line of hipsters, baby boomers and multi-generational families eagerly waiting to get inside. The incongruous crowd of people is at the heart of Marble’s success; it is truly a brewery for everyone.

So grab a beer, they are all good here, and end your brewery tour where this neighborhood’s brewing history began.

Efraín VillaAuthor Website

Efraín is a photographer, actor, writer and global wanderer whose endless quest for randomness has taken him to more than 50 countries in five continents. His writing has appeared on NPR’s Weekend Edition, the Good Men Project, TravelWorld International Magazine, Zymurgy, as well as Spanish language publications. While not running his consulting firm in Albuquerque, he is busy devouring exotic foods in faraway countries and avoiding adulthood while wearing the least amount of clothes possible. His travel stories dealing with the messiness, humor and beauty of cultural collisions can be found on his website: Aimless Vagabond Read more by this author

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