#Polish Jazz

[mywifeleftme]

71: Kwartet Jorgi // Kwartet Jorgi

Kwartet Jorgi Kwartet Jorgi 1987, Pronit

Music for morel foraging in the year 1249 A.D., or combing long blonde hair in a ruined tower, played on violin, guitar, cello, and shepherd’s pipes. Absolute hidden gem of progressive folk here, blending Slavonic early music-sounding melodies with the wandering improvisational qualities of jazz. They at times anticipate the lurching, gnawing cello-heavy scores of the recent bumper crop of folk horror films (especially on album highlight “Olmorts Olof Svensson”), but there’s no sinister intent to Kwartet Jorgi’s music. Rather, they’re seeking to capture the clamour of bogs, bird cries in the higher canopy, airy sounds in the broader ‘soughing’ adjectival universe. I’m usually no great lover of the flute or pipes as a lead instrument, but shepherd’s pipes player and primary composer Maciej Rychly exploits the full possibilities of his instrument, giving these lengthy instrumental settings a vocal protagonist.

Though the emphasis on flute and the proggy grooves of the “Muzyka jaskini łotrów” (“Rogues’ Cave Music”) suite bring to mind early New Agers like Mike Oldfield, Kwartet Jorgi largely succeed in the liner notes’ stated goal of “reaching for the sounds and obvious things that each of us passes by without hearing.” It’s a beautiful recording, and one worth rediscovering by today’s woodland cultists.

71/365

[arterrorist]

Debut album (1967) by this phenomenal vocal jazz group known later as NOVI Singers. The name stands for New Original Vocal Instruments.

[mykristeva]

Krzysztof Komeda, “Ballad for Bernt (No. 1)”

Roman Polanski's "Knife in the Water" Original Soundtrack.

Sax-tenor: Bernt Rosengren

[nightbloomradar]

EABS & Jaubi - Madhuvanti In Search of a Better Tomorrow (2023).

[staugustinecriedoververgil]

U2 i polski jazz 🧠. To jest to, co ostatnio huczy mi w głośnikach 🎷🎸. Hagaw fajnie wchodzi przy czytaniu „Sklepów cynamonowych” Szulca (o dziwo!) 🫶.

No i jeszcze Miles Davis, a także i soundtrack z „Chłopów”. Film średni, ale ścieżka dźwiękowa cudowna 🤩.

[tejedac]

Duo Bednarek-Zgraja ‎

Walking Colour, 1981 · Play album

Jacek Bednarek (double bass) & Krzysztof P. Zgraja (flute)

Recorded in PR Studio, Katowice - July & August 1981 * Lp info

[tryznaeu]

Crazy Girl, Soundtrack From The Motion Picture "Knife In The Water" - Bernt Rosengren With Komeda Trio

Cover by Rosław Szaybo

[sashamosu46]

LOOK AT TF ONE JAZZ AND PROWL❗️❗️��️❗️

So far I can only find 2 ver of Jazz (without and with T-cog) and Prowl without T-cog

[bluerosefox]

I've been seeing a few DPxDC Dad!Damian ideas so I'd like to toss my idea into the void of the internet.

Damian is on a lead about a glowing green puppy, that can apparently change size and go through walls, and finally manages to track it down before even his father hears about it. The puppy seemed to be stealing random things too.

He was fully ready to use all the tricks in the book to get the puppy to trust him... and after a few days/weeks he manages to gain its trust.

He just wasn't expecting the puppy to drag him to abandoned warehouse and drop him in front of a few kids that were hiding out in it.

"Oh! Cujo you finally brought your new person over!" says the only red-haired one in the group, and she was holding a baby, as two almost identical toddlers ran over to the excited pupper that began to run around them.

[catcake24]

Universal Misunderstandings

Summary: Based on @keferon's Mech Pilot Jazz AU. Jazz is a Mech Pilot who gets lost in space.

I wrote this in like... an hour, so I'm sorry if it isn't very good. I just needed to get it out, even if it's a little clunky. (Also I don't write Jazz and Prowl often, so they might be a bit ooc)

If you had asked Jazz what was the craziest thing he ever saw, he would say the moment the giant ships entered earth’s atmosphere for the first alien invasion. Or maybe when he joined the mecha program to fight those aliens, and saw the mecha suits they would be piloting for the first time.

He wasn’t sure if meeting a race of giant robots was any crazier than that, but it was at least top three now.

Being a mecha pilot was surprisingly routine in some ways, similar to the times he was a NASCAR driver in some strange ways. How he would check his machine before every mission, how he piloted it like it was an extension of him, and how painfully aware he was of the danger all around him.

Only now, instead of being at risk of crashing into another driver or spinning off the track, he was at risk of being killed by giant aliens with five faces and so many tentacles.

No one was even sure why the aliens attacked in the first place, only that they desired some sort of potent energy source that was only discovered after they drove the aliens from one of their mines on Earth - and what was found in them revolutionized their technology forever.

They called them Lightning Crystals, based on the blue glow and the little shocks they delivered. The crystals were rare, but extremely potent in energy unparalleled by anything on earth.

Exactly what they needed. Oh, sure for solving global warming and creating efficient technology of course. But they also were the missing element in the new M.E.C.H. program – giant robots which could be controlled by a single person, able to pack as much punch as the aliens. With the Lightning Crystals, they could power these giant machines and finally drive them from their planet.

Jazz was one of the top pilots, though his Mech Suit was focused on rescuing people from peril and buying time as they evacuated a city that would be attacked. It was almost once a month, or several times if they were unlucky – the aliens would land, attempt to get a foothold on their planet, but were driven off by the Mecha. Only to appear again the next time.

And so, the routine was set. Go out, punch some aliens, retreat and recover, and start all over again later. It wasn’t glamourous, but Jazz knew he was doing his part in protecting the planet.

That changed when the Space Program was initialized.

The director of MECH realized they needed some sort of foothold in space, to fight back before they landed on the planet and destroy the ships they had just out of striking range out in the void.

Jazz was selected as one of the first, as his smaller robot would be more ideal for space travel – or so they told him, he wasn’t totally sure if that was bullshit or not anymore.

And so, Jazz found himself being launched into space to fight Aliens. He wasn’t sure when exactly his life turned into an anime, but it definitely felt like one.

During the fight though, something went wrong.

Jazz had been thrown into one of their ships, there was frantic beeping and flashing, and suddenly he felt his whole body feel every sensation at once – and when he got his bearings and noticed the ship was in motion again, he realized, with a sinking terror, that he couldn’t see earth in any direction around him.

His worst fears were only confirmed when he was thrown off the small space shuttle, and couldn’t contact ground support after he crashed onto an unknown planet.

He had to take a few hours to himself, and screamed inside his mech suit’s protective armour. Jazz didn’t know when he passed out from crying, but he felt somewhat refreshed. Not any better, but… not exhausted.

All things considered… he would be alright for a little while. He found more lightning crystals on the planet, and had some rations he could stretch out for awhile. But he wasn’t sure what to do, without any idea where he was or how to contact home.

He set up his homing beacon, and just hoped again all odds that maybe it would be picked up by someone.

-

Prowl wasn’t a very social cybertronian, everyone knew that about him. He wasn’t anti-social, but he didn’t have an easy time communicating with others.

He would be too blunt, or maybe just not react the right way, and suddenly they were upset for reasons he didn’t immediately recognize. He got better at learning what was and wasn’t acceptable in the broad terms, but he struggled with specifics sometimes.

But Prowl was also brilliant – that wasn’t ego, it was repeated often enough that even he had to accept it. The Tac-Net within his processor was faster than any standard internal strategy computer, but that was only a tool. His processor was able to churn through all the data it gave him, and utilize it to its fullest extent with his own creativity and intelligence.

It made him one of the vital assets to the Autobots, and later to the combined cybertronian armies which fought the Quintessons – a walking battle computer, able to analyze a battle field and begin a counter strategy before the opponent even realized it.

So, his communication issue was merely a minor inconvenience in comparison.

Even still, he didn’t have many friends, and he was used to his own company. Prowl didn’t think on it often, just focusing on his task.

Prowl was alone while crossing a large stretch of uninhabited space, a spiral galaxy system which consisted of planets either barren or void of sentient life, when he received the ping on his console.

Unknown Energy Signature, Distress Beacon Detected. Prowl frowned as he read across his screen, because it didn’t make sense at first. He pulled the ship around for a second look before he lost the signal, and saw it was located on a nearby planet.

His Tac Net spat back possibilities when probed, ranging from “Quintesson Trap” to “New Emerging Sentient Life”, and he deemed the risk low enough to check at least.

Prowl wasn’t a social mech, but he wasn’t as heartless as some soldiers said he was.

-

Jazz didn’t notice the ship until it was almost right above him, but he was still in his Mech Suit luckily enough. Using the larger bulk of this robotic body, he tried to wave the ship down using his long arms with a burst of frantic energy.

The Mech robot was psychically linked to himself, and so it was easy enough to arrange the machine’s body to look like a crazy person looking to hitchhike on the highway. He didn’t care though, only happy that someone, anyone, had found him.

It definitely wasn’t human, there were basically no ships of this design and even if there were none had launched yet. Another alien race didn’t seem too far off either, whoever they were. But really, they could be made of goo and Jazz would probably hug them in thanks.

He only really started to realize that this might be a bad thing when the ship landed, because that thing had some pretty big guns. Or maybe those weird energy blasters he saw before, and this was one of the aliens trying to colonize his planet.

Still though, he swallowed his fears and put on a brave face – even if no one else saw. He strutted up to the large ship like he owned it, and… waited.

The ship door opened soon enough, lowering down into a ramp, and out stepped… another robot?

Jazz blinked, suddenly very aware of his body inside of the mech suit, when he saw it… or them?

He didn’t know what to think, seeing the human-like face and odd proportions of their body. Was this another mech suit of some sort? Why did it have wheels?

Jazz had to snap out of it, because the robot started talking to him.

“Dobbqfkdp,” they said with a stoic demeanour, “xj F ql xpprjb vlr ibcq qeb afpqobpp pfdkxi? F txpk’q xtxob qebob txp olylqfz ifcb qefp cxo lrq fkql qeb dxixuv.”

Unfortunately, Jazz didn’t understand a word of it. The robot was holding the blaster on their hip, obviously ready to attack if Jazz proved hostile.

Hesitantly, he turned on his communications radio and spoke.

“Umm, sorry my guy, but I don’t know what you’re saying? I’m a bit new around here is all,” he said with a somewhat nervous laugh. He almost wished his own mech had a face, so he could express how he wasn’t hostile.

There was silence for a moment, the wind blowing by around them and picking up a barrage of maroon plantlife that looked like flowerpetals. It was serene to see, but Jazz kept his focus on the robot whose eyes were widening in surprise.

They then cleared their throat, deliberately taking their hand off the gun and offered something. Jazz stepped forwards hesitantly, seeing it was a small chip.

The robot gave a forced smile, obviously trying to not appear threatening but looking awkward instead. “Jv xmlildfbp. Bah-weep-Graaaghnah, weep ni ni bong.”

Somehow, against what was rational, the phrase they said made Jazz relax a little. It was a ridiculous nonsense in English, but somehow it made the offer seem less unknown.

Hesitantly, Jazz accepted the chip and plugged it into his mech. His eyes nearly bugged out when it started interfacing with his systems, almost pulling it out, before seeing what it was doing – it was scanning the coding and language of his mech’s sytems, pulling them out into a strange dictionary. Soon, it was done with a PING, and the chip ejected itself.

Holy shit, he thought, they have a fucking universal translator, like Star Trek!

The robot’s hand was extended again, obviously asking for the chip, and Jazz gingerly placed it back in the robot’s open palm – somehow having five fingers, which somehow was one of the first things Jazz noticed right now.

He was really overwhelmed, okay?!

The robot inserted the chip into the back of their head, and Jazz had a sinking realization.

Maybe he was jumping the gun, but the way the robot’s eyes went dim briefly as it processed the chip, made Jazz think is this an actual sentient robot?!

“Thank you, I suppose this must be very confusing for you,” the robot then said, in perfect English.

“Ugh… kind of?” He said, shrugging slightly which translated to his robot around him. It was a reflex hard to break, even if it was unnecessary for his mech to emote.

“We’ve known about aliens, but this is the first time I’m meeting one that doesn’t want to kill me,” he said, with a slight laugh at himself. “Sorry, this is really weird.”

“Well,” the mech said, giving a soft smile which looked much more genuine, “I’m sure my kind will be eager to welcome another robotic race to the galaxy.”

Jazz’s mind went blank, as he had two sudden realizations.

Holy shit, I was right, this is an actual sentient robot who is actually talking to me, quickly followed by, they think I’m also a robot.

This… might be messy.

Despite this, Jazz just gave a nod, “Well, I’m sure the feeling is mutual!” He said awkwardly.

“Now… can you help me off this planet?”

The robot gave a brisk nod. “Of course, it’s not uncommon for new space faring species to have transwarping incidents like these. Come with me, my people will help you get home.”

Without any better options, Jazz hopped onto the ship. As he went inside, he realized the whole thing was scaled to the giant robot he was with. Scaled to his mech as well, conveniently enough.

“So, could I get your name?” Jazz said, as he finally was getting ahold of his anxiety. At least he wasn’t dead, and he was going home, so suddenly this was feeling a lot less intimidating.

“Of course, I’m Prowl of Praxus. You?”

“Ummm, Jazz. Jazz Wilson,” he said.

“Very well, it’s nice to meet you Jazz Jazz Wilson,” Prowl said, and somehow that phrase, which wasn’t nearly the craziest part of this situation, got a bark of laughter from Jazz.

“Just Jazz is fine. It’s nice to meet you too Prowl.”

He got a nod of acknowledgement, as the ship flared to life and prepared for takeoff.

Jazz might need to sleep for a decade when he gets home.

(Translation for Prowl Earlier: Greetings, am I to assume you left the distress signal? I wasn’t aware there was robotic life this far out into the galaxy.)

I also won't apologize for using the transformers universal greeting :P, I love that thing. Canonically, it's a phrase so ridiculous that anyone who says it must mean no harm - which is why Jazz somewhat relaxes when he hears it despite not knowing what it means.

I hope you liked this short little story (≧∇≦)ﾉ it's more just exploring the concept than anything.

Also sorry for using the term mech or mecha wrong, I don't watch enough anime ( ´･･)ﾉ(._.`)

[gilbirda]

Personal coach Red Hood

Idea by @impyssadobsessions where Jazz needs a personal trainer from a gotham hero and chooses red hood. Eventual ship content. This is more of a setting so far but i have ideas. I accept ideas too, im just balling

I'm going to try a more chill and lax posting with this bad boy. I feel like my rigid way of organizing is making me feel restricted so this will be 1000% vibes and let's see where it goes.

Part 2

---

Jazz knew this was a stupid idea. Dangerous. Suicidal, maybe, depending on who would answer her call. But she still had to try.

You may be wondering how a twenty something young woman ends up following Gotham heroes around with a notepad. She wasn’t looking for an autograph, or for the latest scoop on the heroes, trying to uncover their secrets.

She was actually writing down their patterns and observations in behavior, trying to map their patrol routes and create a decent enough file and expectations of the heroes.

What did she need the information for?

She needed a personal trainer.

No, not the kind you hire at the gym. She already tried that and it didn’t work. She also tried MMA, and kickboxing and just to see if she could do it, Judo. All were interesting and gave her a pretty good picture of what her body was capable of, and a guesstimate of her physical limitations.

But no. She needed something else, something more… tailored for what she actually needed the training for.

She needed to intern with a hero. The term “sidekick” felt wrong for what she had in mind, since she didn’t want to be that hero’s trainee forever. Or was interested in the current superhero scene at all. They were doing just fine without her.

She just… she felt left out. Danny was amazing but he didn’t need her, not as much as she would have liked. He was a hero, and a pretty good one, but he wasn’t in any place to train her. Not that he wanted to, since he usually avoided her every time she brought it up.

Her baby brother was all grown up and he didn’t need his older sister anymore. 

Jazz shook her head. She was being ridiculous. Danny would always need her — she just needed to do her homework and keep up with him on her own. If she just trained enough and could hold her own in ghost fights, she was sure Danny would be grateful and appreciate her support. Who knows, maybe he would be happy that he didn’t need to be wary of ghosts day and night, and actually rest and focus on his neglected studies.

She yawned, lamenting another night that looked to be a bust. Maybe the heroes were busy tonight? Maybe they were on a big mission away? Unlikely that all of them were away, there were usually at least a few of the Bats flying around the city.

Why Gotham, you may ask? Of all the funny-dressed crime fighters on Earth, why these people? 

Easy.

They were human.

That piqued Jazz’s interest. She had been between the Arrows and the Bats, but finally chose the Bats because Gotham had one perk over Star City: unlimited supply of ectoplasm. The place was almost as coated in the thing as Amity, which she was grateful for. It saved her from going back and forth to places rich with ghost activity and fishing blobs to eat.

Don’t ask too many questions about the consuming blob ghosts part. It was a necessary evil.

However, it’s been a few months and all she got to show for her efforts was a notepad filled with scribbles she painstakingly copied to her computer and a lot of frustration.

Until one night she caught Red Hood alone as he checked his phone. She waited until he was done texting — she had manners thank you very much — and jumped in front of him before he had the chance to grapple away.

“Hi— oof.” 

Thanks the ancients for her reflexes and Judo training, she blocked Hood's punch and following kick. It would probably bruise but it wasn't the end of the world.

“What the fuck?” 

“Hi,” she tried again, “I'm Jazz.”

He didn't punch her again, which she took as a good sign. Instead, he took a step back and squared up like he was expecting a fight.

“I’m not looking for a fight,” he scoffed but let her continue speaking, “I’m looking for… I guess you’d call it a mentor? That sounds weird… A personal trainer? No, that’s wrong too. Hm, I wonder if there’s a word for ‘person who is the only one that can teach you very specific information in a field of interest that legally, or otherwise—’.”

Red Hood cleared his throat, making her jump.

“Are you for real?”

“Yeah? I am real.”

Hood looked at her in silence for a few moments. Then, he sighed and rubbed one gloved hand against his helmet. 

“Listen, girl.”

“Jazz!”

“Jazz,” somehow she got the impression he grumbled, but the voice modulator did its job really well, “I have things to do, ok? Crimes to stop and stuff. So… yeah. Goodnight.”

He turned around and picked the grapple gun from inside his jacket.

“Wait!” 

He jumped and misfired the gun, hitting the wall of the building instead of the roof, like he was supposed to. As the gun recalled the rope, he looked over his shoulder at her. Jazz understood he was glaring at her, she could feel the daggers on her skin.

“Hear me out, ok?” He didn’t move or said anything. “I need— I have tried hiring a trainer, at… back at the gym. You know? But that wasn’t enough. I think I need to train with an actual hero—”

“Listen,” the word was accompanied by the hook of the grapple clicking into place, “whatever it is you are looking for, you definitely are not going to find it with me. So. Scramble.” 

He made a shooing gesture with one hand and aimed the gun without looking, shooting it and amazingly enough, hitting the edge of the rooftop. He made a salute as he was launched to the air at high speed.

Jazz didn’t follow, mesmerized by the skill. Hood landed with a flip and without breaking momentum, started running to the next rooftop, jumping impossible lengths. The way he moved was confident, powerful and measured.

She wanted to do that. She needed Red Hood to train her.

---

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[abwwia]

The first Lady of Polish Jazz

Portrait of Wanda Warska, by Zofia Nasierowska (PL, 1938–2011) black and white photograph: 40 x 30 cm. (15.7 x 11.8 in.)

Wanda Małolepsza (28 April 1930 – 6 July 2019), known professionally as Wanda Warska, was a Polish jazz singer and composer, was nicknamed the "First Lady of Polish Jazz". Via Wikipedia @abwwia

[lamphous]

really, one of the best arguments for switching to firefox/using adblockers/anything to materially limit how much of your personal information is used for advertising/etc is that now shit like this is all youtube's algorithm recommends me

[tejedac]

Polish Jazz Serie publicada por el sello Polskie Nagrania Muza.

Playlist

+ Info

[andrzejklimowski]

All That Jazz (1979) dir. Bob Fosse

Polish poster by Leszek & Jadwiga Drzewinscy

[bharv]

Just been invited into a collaborative soundscape performance art space in March and it will be the first time I’ve been playing in a performance space like that for about seven years, I am actively salivating rn