#th: hendrix grant

[sidekick-hero]

steddie | rating: t | wc: 2.345 | tags: au, rockstar!eddie, drummer!steve, onesided enemies to lovers, part of our upcoming fic Pickup Note | art credit: @firefly-party

Eddie's living his dream, literally. Ever since his mom danced him around the living room to the sounds of Muddy Waters and Jimmy Hendrix, he has wanted to be a rock star. 20 years later, he made it.

So why is there such a sour taste in his mouth when they stand in front of their cheering audience, bowing and clapping with them? Why does the sight of Harrington throwing his drumsticks into the crowd turn his smile into a frown before he can stop himself?

He knows he's being childish. But knowing something has never helped him much in suppressing those irrational feelings that bubble up inside of him until they spill over and make a mess. Eddie's alignment has always been chaotic, so at least he's trying to make it a chaotic good one.

Lately, though, it feels like he's failed at that, and it's all Harrington's fault.

The guy just had to waltz in and take Gareth's place, with the other guys falling all over themselves with praise and gratitude when Harrington should be grateful. After all, he gets to go on a world tour with the most talked about newcomer metal band right now, when the biggest venues he played before were the local bars and sports halls.

But no, Steve Harrington didn't even have to audition, not really. Not when Gareth's boyfriend had vouched for him being a great drummer and an even greater guy, and Gareth, being the love-struck idiot that he was, had just said "Yes, my love, of course, anything you say" or some equally lovey-dovey shit like that. And now Eddie had to endure the guy's company for three whole months.

"Are you alright, man?" Jeff's hand on his shoulder is grounding and his deep voice pulls Eddie back from his gloomy spiral. He gives his oldest friend a smile that lacks the usual Munson charm, but is still genuine enough for Jeff to return it with one of his own.

"Yeah, 'm fine, just tired," he only half-lies. It's been a long day, hell, a long week. Add to that giving his all on stage, jumping up and down and singing his heart out while letting his sweetheart sing for him and thousands of fans, and he's bound to be exhausted as soon as the adrenaline starts to wear off.

Jeff and Grant don't seem to fare any better, coming down from the post-concert high almost as fast as Eddie and crashing as soon as they get to their tour bus. The only one who seems to be full of restless energy is Steve, who can't seem to stop moving, arms and hands and fingers acting like there's still a drum kit to be played. Eddie swears he can feel him vibrating with it and it sets his teeth on edge.

He's a hypocrite, and he knows it. Hell, the Eddie of a year ago would be out partying right now, dancing and drinking and fucking the night away, high on adrenaline and endorphins and maybe something else if the mood struck. But he left that Eddie at the Crossroads, along with his addiction and most of his anxiety disorder.

While Grant just grunts his good night before falling face first into his bunk bed, Jeff goes over to Harrington to check in on him as well. Eddie remembers the one time Jeff tried to play a DnD character that was anything but good. It was painful to watch and Eddie was almost glad when his Demogorgon killed Jeff's character and the rest of the party and they were able to start a new campaign.

If there's anyone on earth who's intrinsically good, it's Jeff Robinson.

Jeff walks over to Steve and pats him on the back. "Great job, man. You were on fire up there. Can't believe you learned that whole setlist in two weeks."

Steve glows from the praise, a bright smile lighting up his whole face before he ducks his head in what looks like genuine bashfulness. Eddie snorts at the thought and Steve's eyes flick over to him, his smile fading.

Harrington looks hurt and Eddie really wonders why. Why should he care what Eddie thinks of him? It's not like they're friends or anything. The way Jeff is glaring at him, Eddie guesses he still needs to apologize to the guy, but just as he opens his mouth to formulate some half-hearted apology at best, Steve turns away from him and squeezes Jeff's arm.

"Thanks, man, I appreciate it. I think I'll head to bed, if you don't mind. Get some sleep."

"Yeah, of course. It's been a long day, get some shut-eye. But you really did a great job, man. I'm glad we found such a kickass stand-in for Gareth on such short notice. You saved our asses."

Eddie bites his tongue so hard he thinks he tastes blood.

It's actually Steve who says what Eddie is thinking. "Are you kidding me, man? I'm the one who's glad you let me come and play with you. I mean, today? Being in front of thousands of people, doing what I love? I've never felt so... fuck, I don't even know. Myself? Happy? Alive?" He laughs, but it sounds tentative, and Eddie can see his cheeks glowing red even in the dim night light of their bus. Steve rubs a hand across his neck in obvious embarrassment. "Sorry, I'm rambling."

Jeff laughs, amused. "Don't worry, it's the concert jitters. Eddie wouldn't stop talking for hours the first time we played in front of more than maybe five drunks back home."

"Har-har," Eddie laughs sarcastically, but there's still a smile on his face that takes the sting out of it. Those were good times, before things got complicated. Before fame and money and being on the road all the time had made them complicated. "I'm gonna hit the hay. Night, Jeff. Harrington."

They return his goodnight wishes with one of their own and Eddie is glad that he already changed into his sweatpants and hoodie backstage. He slips under the covers and turns on his side, facing the wall, listening to Grant's snoring and the sounds of Steve and Jeff getting ready. Eddie knows that sleep won't come anytime soon. He's been an insomniac for as long as he can remember, sleep as absent from most of his life as his father. He has learned to make do with the bare minimum, catching a few hours here and there whenever he can.

Tonight it's Steve Harrington that keeps him awake. Or rather, it is his thoughts and feelings about the man. It's not the first night this happens, but it's the first time he really wonders if maybe he is the asshole after all. Steve's words run through his mind on a loop and every time he closes his eyes he sees the way his smile died on his face, replaced by that kicked puppy dog look that tugs at Eddie's heart no matter how hard he fights it.

Maybe he should at least try to be nicer to the guy.

Sure, he is everything Eddie hated in school: a preppy ex-jock who got everything he ever wanted with his pretty face and his daddy's money. No one ever called him a fuck-up, Eddie is sure of that. While Eddie had to fight for every single thing, even his life, Steve Harrington just got a place in the band and the hearts of their fans and the respect of his bandmates with a few flutters of his long eyelashes. It's true, he's good, Eddie begrudgingly admits. He has found himself staring at Harrington more than once tonight while the man has been playing, mesmerized by the passionate yet easy way he has mastered every single song on their setlist.

Eddie's so lost in his own thoughts that he misses the bus pulling up, only jolted out of his reverie when he hears someone get out of his bed and walk to the front door of the bus.

It's Harrington, talking to the driver. Eddie checks the clock on his phone and is surprised to see that it's already four in the morning. When did that happen? Maybe he fell asleep without realizing it.

Up front, the driver explains that they're stopping here for a few hours. There was an accident further up the highway and the traffic jam is so bad that the driver decided to take his break here. Steve asks if it's okay if he goes outside for a while and Eddie catches himself smiling at the question.

He wonders if Harrington can't sleep, just like he can't. Maybe he's still thinking about Eddie's reaction earlier...no, that would be ridiculous, right? Still, the thought sits heavy in his stomach and after another five minutes he gives up and rolls out of bed to follow Harrington outside. On the way he grabs two hoodies and pulls one over himself.

The cold night air hits him hard as he stumbles down the stairs, but it feels good after a second or two of adjustment.

"Can't sleep?" A voice to his right asks, and sure enough, it's Harrington, leaning against the side of the bus, his arms wrapped tightly around himself.

"I was going to ask you the same question." Eddie replies, walking over to Steve. "Here." Steve stares wordlessly at the offered hoodie, making no move to take it. "It won't bite, I promise. I doubt you can play with your hands frozen."

That does the trick and he finally reaches out to take the black garment from Eddie and pulls it over his head. It's a little long on the arms, but otherwise it fits well, maybe a little tight around the shoulders. Of course, the guy has broader shoulders than he does, Eddie thinks, not really able to muster much annoyance.

"Thanks," Steve says in a quiet voice, giving him a strange look. And then, as quickly as if he were ripping off a bandage, "I just can't get to sleep. I tried everything, counted backwards from one hundred, counted sheep, did that weird breathing thing Robin showed me, tried reading... nothing. I'm so fucking exhausted, but I just can't sleep."

Eddie hums, knowing the feeling only too well. Harrington sounds on the verge of tears and maybe it's the lingering guilt, the memory of his own racing thoughts, all circling around the man in front of him. Whatever it is, something compels Eddie to say, "I don't have a solution for you. I don't sleep more than three, maybe four hours a night. But I can show you something that might make it more bearable, if you'd like."

Steve looks at him and for the first time Eddie allows himself to look back. To let their eyes meet and lock.

"I'd like that."

Clapping his hands, Eddie abruptly turns and stalks to the back of the bus. When he doesn't hear footsteps following him, he turns and calls out, "You comin' or what?" and grins as Steve almost trips in his haste to catch up.

When they reach the back of the bus, Eddie pushes on a panel that is somehow hidden under the license plate. A small metal shape protrudes from where he just pushed, and when he pulls on it, it turns out to be a metal ladder.

"What are you -"

"Patience, young Padawan," Eddie admonishes with a grin, secretly pleased with Steve's reaction. He's kind of proud of his little secret hideout.

Placing the ladder against the back of the bus, Eddie begins to climb up the stairs to the deck, and when he's at the top, he turns and reaches down for Steve to follow. "Do you trust me?"

Steve looks up at him, his eyes bright in the light of the stars and the moon shining down on them. "Yes."

"I can show you the world," Eddie begins to sing, once again letting his impulsive thoughts dictate his actions. The song came to him the second he looked down at Steve.

Steve comes up the stairs and grabs Eddie's hand, laughing. "Oh my God, are you singing a Disney song?"

"You're the one who recognizes it. I bet you even know what movie it's from, don't you, big boy?"

Steve rolls his eyes, but smiles anyway, as if he's secretly charmed by Eddie's antics. "Does that make me the princess?"

"And me the ruggedly handsome thief with a heart of gold," Eddie agrees, pleased that Steve got his reference.

Steve snorts, and it shouldn't sound cute, but oh, does it, his nose crinkling adorably. "Yeah, whatever. As long as this isn’t your flying carpet. I don't trust the structural integrity of this thing to actually fly."

"Big, big words. You sound like Henderson."

"Oh God, don't tell him, I'll never hear the end of it."

Eddie taps his chin thoughtfully. "I'll...think about it," he finally settles on, grinning playfully at Harrington. Silence falls over them, and for the first time since Steve walked into their rehearsal studio, it doesn't feel awkward or hostile. In fact, it's nice to share this space up here with someone.

Eddie sits down at the edge of the bus and Steve joins him, sitting maybe a foot away from him in a slight sprawl, his head tilted back and his mouth slightly open as his eyes take in the clear night sky above them. They're far enough out of town to actually see the harmonious arrangement and movement of the stars in the cosmos, forming a celestial symphony that Eddie has often tried and failed to capture in his songs.

Tonight, however, his eyes are caught by another ethereal sight.

"It's so beautiful," Steve whispers, as if sharing a secret with Eddie. "It's so vast and so beautiful, it’s almost frightening, don’t you think?"

"It is," Eddie agrees, never taking his eyes off Steve. So frightening.

They sit there until the sun slowly rises in the east, Steve's eyes on the sky and Eddie's on his own enigma.

This is a sneak peek from @firefly-party and me for our upcoming project Pickup Note to celebrate our dearest friend and collaborator's @thefreakandthehair birthday. Lex, you are our MVP and we are so happy to call you our friend! We love you and we hope you have the best day, week, month and year, because you deserve it 💜💜

[flawedwrites]

HENDRIX GRANT & SKYE LOVELACE [ are you okay? ] + UKNOWN MEME / OPEN

          Though Skye Lovelace seemed a bit younger than Hendrix as well as a bit immature, the minister couldn’t help but be drawn towards her. He hoped it wasn’t just his go to savour complex as he would have never wanted to take advantage of the blonde by any means but he couldn’t just ignore her sadness. Every time that he was near her Hendrix could sense that something was terribly wrong and so finally one day the minister approached Skye and said softly, “hey, are you okay? Is everything alright/ You can talk to me if you want to. I’m not here to judge.” @hopelesswxnderers​

[dustedmagazine]

Derek Taylor 2020: We’re Still Here

That’s about the best that can be said for a year that pulled out nearly every stop in a surging sea change to calamity, adversity and tragedy. The number of people lost to a pandemic that now stands steadfast as a monument to the true meaning of American Exceptionalism as the epitome of empathy-eradicating self-interest is enough to negate even the noblest efforts at laughing to keep from crying. Musicians and music persisted though, even in a severely altered performance landscape of shuttered venues and virtual concerts.  And recorded offerings new and archival remained plentiful. 

When so much about the present feels like a sprint backwards, societally, environmentally and across multiple other measures, music reliably endures as a means for finding both meaning and footing in the world. What follows are 20 capsule vignettes describing selections from the sea of albums circulated this year that kept me afloat, followed by 25 more in list form that did the same. Thank you for reading and thanks for sticking with us.

Paul Desmond — The Complete 1975 Toronto Recordings (Mosaic)

Given the magnitude of hardship this year’s wrought on living musicians, it may appear a bit perverse to lead this list with a dead one. Even so, this immersive set’s become an old reliable when it comes to achieving aurally-sourced solace. Desmond, the arch and affluent altoist, leaning into a Canadian club residency with ace sidemen while making good on his gentleman’s agreement with absent Dave Brubeck to abstain from piano accompaniment. The leader’s lady-killer instincts are assiduously evident in the amorously-oriented song choices as his dulcet, tranquilizing tone seduces and delights, night after night.

Chris Dingman — Peace (Inner Arts)

An intensely personal project where abundancy of content arose not out of ambition but rather necessity and is made all the more affecting for it. Dingman designed and played the nearly six hours of solo vibraphone music on this set for his hospice-sequestered father with sole purpose of providing comfort and calm. Reflection after his parent’s passing moved him to release it into the world with the hope that it could do the same for others. Intention accomplished.

 Joe McPhee — Black Is the Color (Corbett vs. Dempsey)

It’s been a distressing year for nearly everyone, but particularly for McPhee, who lost his brother Charlie to illness. Even amidst ongoing emotional tumult, his fecundity felt undiminished. AC/DC on the British OtoROKU label offers another entry with the English organ trio Decoy. Of Things Beyond Thule, Vol. 2 is a smashing CD sequel to its vinyl predecessor with Dave Rempis, Tomeka Reid, Brandon Lopez and Paal Nilssen-Love comprising the super group. A reissue of the seminal She Knows… with Scandinavian power trio The Thing on the Ezz-thetics label and Black is the Color compiling early concert material in surprisingly sharp fidelity from the Corbett vs. Dempsey imprint cover the archival end of things.

 Sonny Rollins — Rollins in Holland (Resonance)

The Saxophone Colossus holding court with Dutch compatriots in 1967. Most conspicuous is daredevil drummer Han Bennink, who even at this early stage straddles swing to European Free Jazz from behind his kit. Rollins shifts between comparatively pithy studio salvos and effusive concert excursions that once again cement his supremacy in the strenuous realm of long form improvisation. Seven decades as a musician makes for a bank vault-sized cache of bootlegs, but this one, refurbished and authorized remains something special.

 Stephen Riley — Friday the 13th (Steeplechase)

Like McPhee, Riley’s a perennial resident of my pantheon. This date realized a long-standing wish to hear him in the company of cornetist Kirk Knuffke backed by the freeing simplicity of bass and drums. Both men have aerated, instantly recognizable tones and pliancy in phrasing that provides practically endless possibilities in tandem. Riley’s also instrumental as featured guest on Pierre Dørge’s Bluu Afroo, a slightly preemptive Ruby Anniversary celebration of guitarist’s multinational New Jungle Orchestra.

 Sam Rivers — Ricochet & Braids (No Business)

The auspicious launch of a Sam Rivers archival series last year was among the Lithuanian No Business label’s greatest achievements. Two more seminal entries came down the pike in 2020: Ricochet featuring Dave Holland and Barry Altschul of particularly fine vintage, and Braids spotlighting another pivotal Rivers ensemble in Hamburg with low brass wizard Joe Daley. There are four more to go, which should target the end of 2022 for the series’ completion.

 James Brandon Lewis — Live at Willisau & Molecular (Intakt)

Lewis is the type of compelling artist tapped for accolades like Down Beat’s Rising Star award, despite having been active as an accomplished improviser for over a decade. Delayed exposure is common collateral to a career path in improvised music though, and the saxophonist hasn’t let slow-to-cotton critics slow him down a bit. A deal inked with the Swiss Intakt imprint has so far yielded Live at Willsau, which finds him in fiery duo with Chad Taylor, and Molecular, a studio venture with an all-star quartet that will hopefully become a working band again in 2021.

 Susan Alcorn — Pedernal (Relative Pitch)

Pedal steel may feel like a nascent voice in improvised music, but in actuality Susan Alcorn and her peers have been plying it as a viable vehicle for some time. While Pedernal is somewhat perplexingly her first album as clear-cut leader, impediments to an earlier debut seem inconsequential given the ample amount of thought and design evident in the end product. Strings wielded by Michael Formanek, Mary Halvorson and Mark Feldman weave with the wide gamut of Alcorn’s aqueous sonorities across intricate pieces further stamped by Ryan Sawyer’s peripatetic drums. The results are at once daring and distinguished.

 John Scofield — Swallow Tales (ECM)

ECM has an enviably accomplished record when it comes to matching the austerity and formality of its sound design to artists’ objectives. Case in point this stark, but not standoffish trio set that’s as much (electric) bassist Steve Swallow’s offspring as it is Scofield’s. Drummer Stewart is the third point in the triangle, but he sagely defers to his elders, leaving them to a dance of differently gauged strings that expertly balances motion and space.

 Corbett vs. Dempsey

John Corbett is emblematic of that rare breed of music monomaniac who balances obsessiveness with altruistic generosity. He’s personally responsible for bringing dozens of rare and classic recordings back into circulation, first through the fondly remembered Unheard Music Series and more recently via the CvD concern. This year, another stack was added to that sum with Milford Graves & Don Pullen’s The Complete Yale Concert 1966 (including the rarified Nommo), Alexander von Schlippenbach’s Three Nails Left, Tetterettet by the ICP Tentet, Peter Kowald’s self-titled FMP debut as a leader and the madcap New Acoustic Swing Duo from Willem Breuker and Han Bennink as standouts.

 Whit Boyd Combo — Party Girls & Dracula (the Dirty Old Man) (Modern Harmonic)

Vintage skin flick soundtracks have rarely if ever received an even-handed shake in terms of relative artistic merits. Tarred with the same smut brush as the visuals they were constructed to accompany, they’re routinely viewed as just as disposable. The Whit Boyd Combo doesn’t exactly dispel this dictum, but it does lay down some funky and at times refreshingly fractious freewheeling horns over organ, bass, and drums driven beats on this late-60s session tape excavated by the folks at Modern Harmonic. The companion Dracula (the Dirty Old Man) isn’t quite on par, but it’s still a solid vessel for competently crafted fossilized grooves.  

 Robbie Basho — Songs of the Avatars (Tompkins Square)

Real Gone Music whet the appetite earlier this year with the release of Songs of the Great Mystery, a “lost session” from Basho’s tenure at the Vanguard label. Songs of the Avatars ups the ante substantially by granting outsider access to a six-hour survey of the dearly departed fingerstyle guitarist’s personal tape trove. The aural riches are ample and include Basho exploring familiar proclivities (Indian, Native American and Japanese interpolations) alongside unexpected new ones (ballet and cantata) with passion and conviction to burn along the way.

 Jimi Hendrix — Live in Maui (Experience Hendrix)

Posthumous Hendrix is a seemingly inexhaustible resource as each year repackaged and repurposed treasures are released into the marketplace. Fortunately, familial heirs are the ones doing the sowing and this lavish set documenting musical and extra-musical particulars of the icon’s reluctant conscription into cosmic hippie scam does right by him. Given the windswept conditions near the Haleakala Crater it’s a minor miracle that he, Billy Cox and Mitch Mitchell mesh as well as they do, and while the footage included can be frustrating in its fragmentary presentation, it’s still a thrill to see and hear them jamming in amiable and ebullient form.

 Joe Maneri, Udi Hrant & Friends — The Cleopatra Record (Canary)

Details on this one could easily serve as grist for a credible short film screenplay with perhaps Jim Jarmusch directing. Brooklyn, 1963: A group of marginalized ethnic musicians relegated to playing wedding gigs gets conscripted for an afternoon recording session. The cheaply packaged and provincially distributed results are destined for the anonymity of dime store cut out bins. Except that the band includes two geniuses: Joe Maneri, who would go on to become a master microtonal improviser/composer and Udi Hrant Kenkulian, one of most revered modern doyens of the Turkish oud. Available over at Bandcamp for a pittance.

 Ayalew Mesfin — Good Aderegechegn, Che Belew and Tewedije Limut (Now Again)

Adding up Buda Musique’s 30-volume Ethiopiques series and a host of other more modest enterprises, it’s obvious that there’s never been more access to vintage Ethiopian music than now. This trilogy of discs from the Now Again label covering vocalist/keyboardist/bandleader Ayalew Mesfin’s catalog restores one of the last untapped reservoirs to circulation. Tight horns, choppy, fuzz and wah-wah drenched guitars and chugging bass fuel dance floor burners while Mesfin’s pipes work memorable magic on a string of melancholic, melismatic ballads.

 Kent & Modern Records Blues into the 60s, Vol. 1 & 2 (Ace)

Ace’s appellation as a music label of enviable reach and import has never been an erroneous assignation. This pair of compilations investigates the urban, but far from urbane, blues scene surrounding Los Angeles as documented by the Kent label in the 1960s. Comparatively longer-in-tooth legends like T-Bone Walker and Big Jay McNeely jockey with younger, fame hungry artists like Larry Davis and Little Joe Blue in negotiating a West Coast argot that’s heavy on electricity channeled through guitars and organs. McNeely’s ripping “Blues in G Minor” is one of several snarling sonic wolves in non-descript sheep’s titling.

 V/A — A Stranger I May Be: Savoy Gospel 1954-1986 (Honest Jons)

This astutely-sequenced set stands out in the particularly plentiful playing field of this year’s gospel reissues. The mighty Savoy label started out as a jazz venture before branching out into other African American musical idioms. The compilers at Honest Jons parse the program chronologically across three-discs and leave the heavy-lifting of context and artists biography to a lengthy essay. Choirs, ensembles, bands, and moonlighting R&B singers all make appearances directing their talents to devotional and invocational celebrations of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost.

 Sun Ra

One of the highlight roundtables at Dusted this year was a Listening Post ruminating on the Sun Ra Arkesta with and sans Ra on the occasion of the band’s new release Swirling. I got to play the (hopefully uncharacteristic) part of curmudgeon in those exchanges principally because while I respect the ensemble’s longevity absent their lodestar leader, there’s still an explicit void extant that tends to eclipse my actual interest. The Ra reissue docket for 2020, which included excellent editions of Celestial Love and A Fireside Chat with Lucifer from Modern Harmonic, When Angels Speak of Love on Cosmic Myth, Heliocentric Worlds, Vols. 1 and 2 from Ezz-thetics, and Strut’s Egypt 1971, which collects Dark Myth Equation Visitation, Nidhamu and Horizon alongside a bevy of contemporaneous unreleased recordings, only bolstered the bias. 

 Fresh Sound Records

Still the standard for thoughtfully and lavishly curated jazz reissues, Barcelona-based Fresh Sound kept commensurately prolific pace throughout the year. Gary Peacock - The Beginnings surveys the recently deceased bassist’s early work as a versatile California-stationed sideman. Remembering does similar service to rare concert recordings by Belgian guitarist Rene Thomas while The Complete 1961 Milano Sessions offers truth in advertising by compiling woodwind savant Buddy Collette’s sojourn on Italian shores with (mostly) indigenous sidemen.

 V/A — Sumer is Icumenin (Grapefruit)

An overdue sequel to Dust on the Nettles (2015), which apparently commands on princely sums on Discogs these days, this set encompasses 4+ hours of cherry-picked vintage British freak folk. Second helpings from stalwarts of the style such as Comus, Steeleye Span and Fairport Convention join Albion offerings from obscurants like Vulcan’s Hammer, Mr. Fox and Oberon in celebrating the weird crossroads of ancient Britannic and 1960s counterculture influences. The cant is more to The Wicker Man side of the spectrum with Magnet’s bucolic canticle “Corn Rigs” the ringer in that regard.

Twenty-five more in mostly stochastic order:

Aruán Ortiz - Inside Rhythmic Falls (Intakt)

Brandon Seabrook/Cooper-Moore/Gerald Cleaver — Exultations (Astral Spirits)

Cecil Taylor & Tony Oxley — Birdland, Neuberg 2011 (Fundacja Sluchaj)

Horace Tapscott w/ the Pan Afrikan Peoples Arkestra — Ancestral Echoes: The Covina Sessions, 1976 (Dark Tree)

Damon Smith — Whatever is Not Stone is Light (Balance Point Acoustics)

Frank Lowe & Rashied Ali — Duo Exchange: Complete Sessions (Survival)

Dudu Pukwana — and the “Spears” (Matsuli Music)

Mary Halvorson’s Code Girl — Artlessly Falling (Firehouse 12)

Burton Greene — Peace Beyond Conflict (Birdwatcher)

Albert Ayler — Trio 1964: Prophecy Revisited (Ezz-thetics)

JD Allen — Toys/Die Dreaming (Savant)

Charles Mingus — At Bremen 1964 and 1975 (Sunnyside)

The Warriors of the Wonderful Sound — Soundpath (Clean Feed)

Kidd Jordan/Joel Futterman/Alvin Fielder — Spirits (Silkheart)

Roland Haynes — 2nd Wave (Black Jazz)

Quin Kirchner — The Shadows and the Light (Astral Spirits)

Thelonious Monk — Palo Alto (Universal/Impulse)

Black Unity Trio — Al-Fatihah (Salaam Records/Gotta Groove)

Gary Smulyan — Our Contrafacts (Steeplechase)

Joni Mitchell — Archives Vol. 1: The Early Years (1963-1967 (Rhino)

Elder Charles Beck — Your Man of Faith (Gospel Friend)

Sarhabil Ahmed — King of Sudanese Jazz (Habibi Funk)

V/A – The Right to Rock: The Mexicano and Chicano Rock ‘n’ Roll Rebellion 1955-1963, Episodio Uno (Bear Family)

V/A – Hillbillies in Hell: Country Music’s Tormented Testament (1952-1974) ~ Revelations (The Omni Recording Corporation)

V/A — The Harry Smith B-Sides (Dust to Digital)

[nice-cheerleader-blog]

Short Story Sunday: French Toast & Black Cats

Witches aren’t really around anymore, but you can still feel their presence. At least, that’s what my mom would tell me. ­­­­­

“You think it’s a coincidence that the Calgary Flames haven’t won a game in Anaheim for 11 straight years?” She didn’t know the witch behind it, but figured there must be one responsible. Going over a decade without a single win on the Ducks’ home turf? I agreed with her—it was a little spooky.

According to my mom, witches have been just as fanatic about sports as any typical frat boy or suburban dad. Ever heard of the Curse of the Bambino? My mom says that witch was infamous—she set the curse in 1918 when the Red Sox traded her beloved Babe Ruth to the Yankees. She died in 1939, but the curse lived on after her for another 65 years. For 86 years, the Sox never won a World Series.

***

I learned from a young age that witches were neither the hat-wearing, broom-riding women from Halloween catalogues, nor the devil-worshipping vixens of Hell that the pilgrims of Salem’s Village feared in the 1690s. Witchcraft was much more mundane than all of that, to your dismay or comfort. Killing through magical means is possible, but extremely difficult to pull off. Plus, it was equally dangerous. That kind of vengeance could be the last thing a witch ever does. Don’t get me wrong, though. Any community has its bad seeds.

There was once this witch my mom said was scary powerful. She was a housewife in the 1960s, the spouse of a conservative state senator and mother to two rambunctious teenagers. As the story goes, her two kids became quite the counterculturalists. They loved Hendrix and Janis Joplin, would steal records from their friends to play while their mother was out. Of course, their mother hated rock music and the lifestyle it represented. It didn’t take long for her to catch wind of her children’s new vices. She did what any overbearing 20th century mother would do: smash the records and forbid them to leave the house. But in a time where hippies ran rampant and communes were almost common, do you think that stopped them?

“She could’ve hexed them to stay in the house,” I told my mother. “Why didn’t she?”

“It was taboo,” she said immediately. “You’d never use magic on the people you love.”

This housewife, though, couldn’t stand for this behavior. She was furious; she had to do something. If she couldn’t target her kids, she’d target the thing that corrupted them. My mom didn’t know how she did it, but the witch used all of her power to curse the musicians that dared seduce her kin. This was in 1968. Three years later, Brian Jones, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and Jim Morrison were dead—all at the ripe age of 27. Now, this group of dead musicians has become its own club: The 27 Club. Kurt Cobain and Amy Winehouse are among recent high profile inductees. No one knows how long the curse will live on, but it might be awhile. It did cost the housewife her life after all.

***

The curses that were most common were more agitating than dangerous, my mom assured me. Little annoyances were much easier to create. My mom knew this one witch who would hex the watches of aggravating coworkers to run backwards whenever they were particularly grating. Another girl she knew would curse people to forget about their tea until it was cold. She was English, and you know how they are about their tea.

The hexes could be even subtler, if you can believe it. My mom worked at a grocery store when she was a teenager, and this guy that was always on shift with her would show up late every day. After a few months of this nonsense, she cast a spell that would force him to wake up a half an hour before his alarm every day, no matter what time it was set, with the inability to fall back asleep. ��I was just trying to help; time management is a valuable skill,” she assured me with a self-satisfied smirk. Another favorite of hers was cursing people for a few weeks or so to step in water whenever they’ve put on a new pair of socks.

She pulled out all the stops for an ex one time. “The whole ‘fire and brimstone’ thing is a bit cliché, but I was pissed,” she told me. She caught her girlfriend redhanded, in the arms of another woman. They hadn’t seen her though, so my mom made it her mission to follow her unfaithful partner to the adulterous rendezvous’ and hex her in the most embarrassing ways. One day, it was a giant sneeze, launching a big wad of mucus into the mistress’ face. On another occasion, it was a bit of flatulence. Then a lot of flatulence. My mother progressed her curses meeting by meeting … I won’t get into too much detail in case you’ve just finished eating. Finally, the mistress had had enough, and broke things off. On the same day, my mother broke things off with her too. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned and all that.

***

“How would you do it?”

“It’s kind of hard to explain. It’s like a feeling that you put every thought, every bit of energy into. You almost will it into existence, whatever thing you’re trying to accomplish.”

I asked her about the candles. Movies like Hocus Pocus and The Craft always said you needed candles to do witchcraft. They used different colors for different spells, lighting them in the dead of night or in some eerie, darkened cavern.

“There’s something to the candles/incense stereotype. They’re helpful, but not necessary. Casting spells requires focus. You have to inhabit your own being with everything you’ve got. It’s like meditating. Sometimes the candles help with that. They set the mood.”

She smirked.

“Also, it’s kind of a cool feeling, casting spells in candle light. I’ll give the movies that much.”

I asked her about black cats then, too.

She laughed. “That was more like a self-fulfilling prophecy. People started to think that they were bad luck, owned only by servants of the Devil, which we thought was hilarious. Having them became a big inside joke. It’s a bonus if they scare the neighbors.”

***

You might be wondering why my mom didn’t just show me how to cast spells firsthand. I wondered the same thing for much of my life. She had dodged the question for quite a few years before I got any sort of answer. Before then, it was all “Maybe when you’re older,” or “I need a good reason to cast a spell, and I don’t have one right now,” or “It’s not all its chalked up to be.”

It wasn’t until I was 17 that I put my foot down. I asked her one more time. “No more excuses.”

She sighed. “I can’t.”

This gave me pause. “What do you mean you can’t?”

“I haven’t been able to cast anything since I was pregnant with you.”

I remember the look on her face as she told me, so unlike herself. She wouldn’t meet my eyes, blushing slightly, like she was embarrassed. It was clear that I got her to admit some sort of vulnerability, but it was uncomfortable. I didn’t know what to do.

She made herself busy, putting the dishes away and wiping off the counter as she spoke. “I tried to do a few things around the house after you were born. Small things, like charming the laundry to fold itself. But it was like it had switched off. Just like that.” She snapped her fingers for emphasis. “Nothing.”

I asked her what she thought went wrong and she replied quickly with a mumbled “I don’t know” and continued cleaning. I had planned to leave it at that, and went up to my room to just be somewhere else. I didn’t like being around this hesitant person that wasn’t my mom. She found me a bit later, though, popping into my bedroom doorway.

“It’s a genetic thing, typically. I know you know that but … You’ve never made anything weird happen? Something you thought hard about that just—”

“No, mom. Never.” It wasn’t the first time she had asked, and it wouldn’t be the last. Answering her felt like an admission of guilt. She always smiled afterwards, nodded her head reassuringly, but the expression never reached her eyes. I always felt like a disappointment.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. I used the sit in my room with the lights off, sitting with my legs criss-crossed on the floor. I’d think hard about the math test I might’ve flunked the day before, or Sydney MacNeil and her aggravatingly straight hair and the smile she’d give anyone after granting them a backhanded compliment. Regardless, everything the next day was the same: Sydney was still a bitch with perfect hair and I still sucked at math.

***

“Tell me about Dad again.”

It was a command common of my youthful self, a request that I would ultimately grow out of. But when I was a little girl, he was my favorite of Mom’s stories.

“Dad was the most beautiful son-of-a-bitch there ever was. Remember that Shakespeare line I told you about?”

I slid the orange slice I was sucking on out of my mouth. “Hell is empty, and all the devils are here” I replied with a teeth full of orange pulp. No passerby had reason to think I was the daughter of a former witch, but had anyone caught that phrase escaping my then 10-year-old lips, they might have been suspicious.

“He was here all right, but people forget that devils can be beautiful. I certainly did. They can look like cherubs, with curly blond hair and blue eyes. Their smiles know how to set off the butterflies in your stomach. They know just what you want to hear.”

“What did you want to hear, Mom?”

“I wanted to hear how beautiful I was. I was vain. I wanted to see adoration in someone else’s eyes. And I did. Until one day…”

I knew this one. “You told him!”

“Yes, I told him I was a witch. Something I hadn’t the guts to tell ANYONE in my entire life. Until that day. And you know what he did?”

“Mean things!”

“Very mean things. Luckily you were there with me, right in my belly. You kept me company, especially after he left. And it’s been the two of us ever since.”

That was how the story usually ended. She would return to whatever she was doing before, usually with added fervency. I always wanted a bit more though. “Mom, where did he go?”

“Hopefully back to whatever HELL he came from,” she said, scrubbing the counter a bit harder.

Even at 10-years-old, something told me not to push it.

At some point, I stopped asking about him altogether. He was a fairy tale that came to be a waste of time.

***

Not being a witch was something I learned to cope with. It was hard for a while—during high school especially—to know that there was some force out there that could’ve made everything just a bit easier, if only I was able to conjure it. Having somehow disinherited the powers of my mother, and her mother before that, and so on certainly didn’t help with the teenage angst and feelings of inadequacy. I never met my grandmother, but that gave me some sort of relief. She was spared from the disappointment of sharing blood with the magically handicapped, the disappointment I imagined my mother must’ve felt every day.

In hindsight, it’s odd that I didn’t question the existence of this entity I had never seen with my own eyes. Perhaps that was foolish of me. But Mom was so transparent, always. She was honest, and so was anything she said. Santa, the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny—they were make believe, she admitted. But witchcraft was real, as real to me as the woman who told me about it.

Nonetheless, it was also a secret. “These stories are for you and me, Chrys,” she’d remind me from time to time. “Other people might get the wrong idea.” That meant that there was a world between Mom and me that no one could come close to touching. Needless to say, I had trouble making friends, or even wanting to make friends. Soccer team drama, going to the movies, the daily grind of office life—it was all so boring compared to stories of magical vengeance. My peers didn’t know what they were missing, and I held it against them.

In grade school, the other kids called my mom a hippie and made fun of her “weird” clothes. “What kind of name is Chrysanthemum, anyway? Who would name their kid that?”

If only they knew how much greater she was than them. They were little people, wandering through life inconsequential, and she was the Statue of Liberty. I stood on her shoulders, looking down at them all.

Mom was always a big hit with people—cashiers, waitresses, the people she passed by on the street. She was a character, as people say. But she tended not to have many close friends, either. I don’t know for sure what she thought of my being a kind of recluse, though I think she at appreciated it. We got to be recluses together. She provided the entertainment, and I was her built-in audience.  

Part of me wanted to share these stories with the world. Maybe I just wanted people to know that I was privy to a world they knew nothing about, at least vicariously. But at the same time, I was selfish. They couldn’t have those stories because they were ours first—Mom’s and mine.

***

Mom got sick—early-onset Alzheimer’s. I was 35 and she was too young. It was easy to spot because she’d always been such a storyteller. I knew something was wrong when she started losing details.

“Who was the witch that had cursed the Red Sox?”

“What year did Janis Joplin bite it?”

“Don’t you have school today, hun?”

By this time, I knew the stories like the back of my hand, and had to remind her that I haven’t been to school for quite some time. She just shook her head, made some joke about being an old crone. “I’ve always told it like it is; now my memory is just as blunt.”

I knew about Alzheimer’s, had seen all those sad movies about people slowly losing their grasp on reality. I figured that was what she had, despite her age. But I wasn’t prepared for how quickly it went. Her mind, that is. One day, she was cursing out a Jehovah’s Witness for daring to ring the doorbell at 8am, fiery and loud. The next, I found her staring at herself blankly in the mirror, looking like she was searching for some sort of misplaced purpose. That’s how it felt, at least. I didn’t want to take her to see anyone, though. I hated doctors and so did she.

On one of her bad days, we were eating breakfast. I made French toast. She had this fool-proof recipe that I adopted as my own. Mid bite, she turned to me with her brows furrowed. “Have you seen Jude? I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

Jude was my dad. I told her we should go for a drive and took her to the hospital.

***

My mom was pretty out of it most of the time after that, but she had her moments of clarity. I think of it like she thought of her magic: a switch being turned off. Most days, she was off, and the on days were few and far between. It was always good to have her back, though.

“Did I ever tell you what happened after your dad left? I don’t think I ever did.” She said so during one of the on days, towards the end. We were sitting in her room at the home, decorated just how she liked it: lots of reds, oranges, and pinks. We were sat in the middle of a perpetually setting sun.

“No, Mom,” I agreed. “You just said he went to Hell.”

She chuckled. “Maybe he did. I wouldn’t know—I never heard from him again. It might be my own fault, though, and I never told you why.”

I sat up in my seat.

“I felt so betrayed when he left. He was so taken with me, or so I thought. It only took that one bit of detail to turn him against me wholly. ‘A witch?!’ he asked. ‘You’re delusional. You’re a freak.’ He stormed out after a few more jabs.”

“And he never came back,” I added.

“I …” she trailed off.  “Not that I ever gave him the chance to,” she said finally. I looked into her eyes to see them glistening. I asked her what she meant.  

“I was so embarrassed. And angry. I just …” she brushed a bit of red hair out of her eyes. “I freaked out. Before I knew it, I was willing him to forget about everything. About me, about you, about where we lived. I don’t have any concrete evidence that it worked. But he never came back; I do know that. Never called, not even to ask about you. That wasn’t like him. He was a devil, for sure, and mischievous as all hell. But he was so excited about you.”

Her voice was pained, the same quality it had when she would forgetfully ask me about Jude. I felt my eyes burning for a man I grew up learning to hate.

“Taking things out of the world isn’t as easy as putting them there. It never is. Remember what I said about cursing the ones you love?”

I nodded.  

“Like I told you before—the last time I used magic was when I was pregnant with you.”

She paused. I waited, too. Then, I could see the dreamy look coming across her face. She was going again, but she didn’t really need to say anymore. I got what she was getting at; she might’ve ruined witchcraft for us both.

***

For years, I wondered if the suddenness of my mom’s downward spiral had anything to do with the spell she cast on Jude. The doctors could always back up her decline with their PET scans and CAT scans and DOG scans or whatever, but even they knew that something weird was going on. Most of them commented on my mom’s age. She was unusually young for a woman losing her mental faculties, especially at such an alarming rate.

She never spoke of Jude again after that day, and I never prompted her to. I let a war rage inside me instead. There was contempt and understanding, bitterness and guilt, questions and possible answers. How could she be so rash that day he left? I’d ask myself, even while knowing the reason why: Other people might get the wrong idea. He couldn’t have understood her, I’d decide. But then I’d see us, the perfectly imperfect nuclear family, me and Mom playing magic tricks on Dad, the way it could’ve been.

I had no means of finding him. To me, he was Jude with curly blonde hair and blue eyes and a mischievous smile. No last name, no address, no phone number. Even if I knew those things, what then? It would be best to let him fade from thought, just like he had up to this point in my life. I never needed a dad, and didn’t need one now. That didn’t keep the possibility of one gnawing at me, though.

He could’ve come back. But if she had waited a little longer to do anything, she wouldn’t be my mother.

I was a mess. That’s saying something, trust me. I’m not the type to let myself become a mess. Yet, there I was. Perhaps I was behaving like any normal human would when faced with losing the one person in their life that actually mattered. I didn’t feel normal, though. I felt weak.

***

Would you believe it if I told you that, even in this state, I attracted a shoulder to cry on? Morgan. God, Morgan. The man is a saint, I swear to you. I’ve never been one for dating, and I somehow managed to land this guy just before the worst period of my life. He stuck with me through all of it. He was one of my mother’s attendants, an employee at the home. He was assigned to her as soon as she moved there, but I didn’t notice him for quite some time. I was too busy being wrapped up in my own thoughts and whatever was left of my mother’s.

I went for a visit one day, but the nurses informed me that Mom was taking a nap. I told her I’d wait until she woke up, and kept to a couch in the lobby. I tried to read whatever magazine was left out on the coffee table, but I skimmed the same page over and over again instead. Morgan sat down beside me, unaware of his presence until he spoke up.

“Care for a smile?”

I glanced over and looked at him for the first time. Really looked at him. I could associate this man, with dark hair just beginning to go gray at the edges, with the blur of movement in the corner of my eye I’d recognized coming in and out of my mom’s room. I couldn’t even remember his name at the time, so I avoided addressing him directly. My attention was elsewhere: the plate of sliced oranges in his hands.

“Smiles?”

“Your mother is quite the talker, about you especially. She kept saying how her little girl loves orange smiles, and made me promise to bring her some. She’s a persistent lady.”

He was a good judge of character. “You knew what they were?”

“My mom used to call them smiles, too.” He picked a piece off of the plate and wedged the whole thing into his mouth. He gave me a solid orange smile.

I’m stubborn, so I didn’t smile back immediately. He nudged one out of me eventually.

I wondered for a while why Morgan decided to make such an effort to be chummy with me. I don’t mean to be self-pitying, but I wasn’t exactly the most fun to hang out with in those days. One day, I gathered up the courage to ask him why he bothered to be so kind.

“You were so vacant when I first met you. Not even there for me to like or dislike. But I’ve seen how you are with your mom. When I pop in and out of her room, I see you smile, I see you laugh—you light up for her in a way you don’t with anybody else. I’m just hoping I’ll get to see that Chrys for myself sometime.”

I’d tease him later for being so suave.

***

I forgave my mom; I had to. Now, it’s been weeks since my mom passed, and I’ve gotten pretty good at being normal. I miss her. That much is obvious, I’m sure. But it’s like she used to say: witches aren’t around anymore, but we can still feel their presence.

I see her in the color scheme of the rooms in the house I share with Morgan, bright like she would have liked it. I see her in our cat Fiona. She’s black, of course, with the biggest, greenest eyes, and loves to knock over the candles we keep in the living room. My mom would’ve gotten a kick out her.

Morgan helped me with her until the very end. He grew to admire her almost as much as I did, which made him pretty okay in my book. I couldn’t help but keep him around.  

It’s Sunday. Morgan and I are making breakfast. I’m on—you guessed it—French toast duty, while Morgan is in charge of the home fries and bacon. For all his wonderful qualities, though, his potato-chopping abilities are slow as molasses. Consequently, I’m waiting patiently to cook the French toast while his home fries take decades to cook in the oven. I say this much to him.

“These potatoes are going to be perfect,” he assures me, laying a couple strips of bacon onto the frying pan in front of him. “Unlike your French toast, which will be mediocre at best.”

I purse my lips and raise an eyebrow at him. He sticks his tongue out at me, a child stuck in an old man’s body.

“That’s some tough talk for a male nurse,” I quip.

He shakes the spatula at me accusingly. “Tease all you want—you know you think the scrubs are sexy.”

I roll my eyes and turn to leave the kitchen.

“May all your bacon burn,” I curse him with a smirk.

I enter the living room and plop myself down on the big red couch in the center. I thumb through an old magazine, waiting for the right moment to begin my portion of the breakfast prep.  

A bit of smoke catches my eye behind the magazine’s pages.

“What the hell?!” It’s rare to catch Morgan cursing, even as mild as this. I call out to him, still seated on the couch.

“There must be something wrong with this pan,” he shouts back. I see him enter the living room doorway, pan in one hand and a strip of blackened meat in the other. “I swear I’ve been putting down the bacon only for a few seconds, but each strip comes back completely charred.”

I’m puzzled for a second, and then my jaw drops.

***

I never told Morgan about the witches, and I still haven’t. I haven’t been able to bring myself to say the words, not after what happened to my parents.

I’ve decided to give myself an ultimatum. I will tell him, but I have to do something first.

Morgan’s out for the night, on a business trip a few states over. Fiona and I are alone in the house. She keeps me company as a light a dozen candles in my darkened bedroom. I set them up in a circle on the floor, and climb carefully into the open spot in the middle. Cross-legged, I rest my hands on my knees and keep my breathing even. My mom was right; the candles do help.

I close my eyes. I wait for my head to clear, and then fill it with a single name.

Jude. Jude. Jude. Jude.

Where is Jude?

And I see him in my mind’s eye.

[where-i-am-being]

The Day Tevita Died

“One morning, in December 2006 I was delivered some of the worst news I have ever heard. Springtime and I sat on the bed in my room at Gilfillan street. I think we were listening to more from my live The Mars Volta collection and canoodling, as we did. My mother came into my room and announced quite directly, but morosely that my brother Jack and some of his friends had gone up on ‘Lion Rock the night before to drink and make merry. For reference, Lion Rock is about 150ft tall and right on the shoreline of one of the best surf beaches in the world. There were very high winds, and this was the night time. My mother said that one of his friends, David Herrick, had gone missing and the assumption was that he’d fallen and was lost. I cried a little bit, but really this David was the kind of person you expect this to happen to. Not that that’s any less important, but it’s less upsetting. 

I shed a few tears and carried on with my day. Springtime left sometime soon after this and I had to go and meet a friend named Sammy G who I had met through the DDD forum. We’d agreed to meet up in a café in Ponsonby, which happened to be very close to his home also. It was a nice afternoon, and since we had not met we walked straight passed each other initially. As we found each other and went into the café to order whatever he was ordering, I got a txt fro my mother saying that it was not David H. that had fallen, but Tevita. I had to turn my numb mode on or I would not make it through the day. There was no possible way this happening. Oh my fucking God. 

It worked. Sammy and I sat and spoke about music for a couple of hours, then he invited me to jam a bit at his place nearby. Normally I’d be sceptical but he was a small guy and I think I could’ve easily taken care of myself had he tried anything. I was there for another couple of hours, then I had to go. I couldn’t hold it together any longer, and I wanted to be with Springtime so bad that it hurt. I wanted to see Jack so bad that it hurt. I wanted to see Tevita so bad that I could not entertain that thought or it would have killed me. Even though I would’ve told you I was, I was not yet at a point where me walking to a nearby bridge instead of a bus stop was totally out of the question. I was very frightened. This was the first time someone I really knew and liked had died suddenly. Angus’ dad was more a peripheral situation, and Luke’s dad I had met perhaps once.

I was texting Springtime from when I left Sammy’s place I think trying to work out some way that I could see her. This was not possible, but what she did was keep in contact with me until she turned up at about 8:30am the next morning, having potentially had to catch a bus as early as 6:45 to get to me at that time. She also brought Trivial Pursuit, a game, which had become a ritual for us at her house. It was one of the only things we could really do for fun under the hawk-eye watch of her mother. This was not resented, but embraced as we found some of the most childish and pure pleasure in a silly board game that we never played to the rules. She was aware enough to know that this would cheer me up at least some and brought it with her, even having gotten up that early in the morning.

She was incredible to me around this period. It was a blessing and a curse though, because while it sussed me out at the time, I invested too much in that and it prevented me from properly dealing with Tevitas death personally. I almost ignored a lot of what I was feeling to focus on what being with Springtime made me feel, which was positive. If it weren’t for Springtime at this point, I wouldn’t have been able to attend the funeral I don’t think, but conversely I would not have found myself in such a particularly bad position about 8 months later either. Oh, yes…. Springtime came to the funeral. She knew Tevita but not too well. They had met at my 16th birthday party. For a reason I can’t remember, she always called him Jasmine. Even after he karcked it.

They didn’t find Tevita’s body for two weeks or more. I spent a lot of time in bed, but Springtime made me spend some time with friends. Everyone was very sympathetic, and I think I probably forgot to thank anyone but Springtime through this period. Funnily, I didn’t see much of Jack. Chames, J-Wah and they had sort of recoiled into their own little group which then included Big Dog and Sean, Nike’s brother, and rarely extended their group to the rest of their friends. Jack started drinking very heavily, and I didn’t think anything of that till months later when it had become a problem. I assumed he would stop once they found Tevita’s body.

When they did I was immediately informed that the funeral was to be held on Christmas Eve and where etc… This was a very dramatic death in that the night he fell, The Mars Volta had been scheduled to play, then subsequently postponed. The boys went out that night as a replacement. I think because of the absurdity of the whole ordeal I was pretty much totally numb till the funeral. I didn’t think I would be able to handle it to be honest. I knew that seeing friends like Nike in that state when I had not spoken to them in a while was going to be too heavy. No one deserves to bury any of their friends before they’re 50. Tevita fell a week or so after graduating from high school. He was 18.

Springtime was happy to come to the funeral with me, and I really needed it. I remember arriving at the church about midday. I probably already knew that this day was going to be how it turned out. But instead of worrying I was only thankful for the people with me. Just outside the church waiting, my brother and another four of Tevita’s best friends: J-Wah, Chames, Big Dog and Sean. They asked me to go inside, and find my seat. So I moved with my mother, sister, and Springtime to find a seat in the huge round church. The high roof, and large pillars daunted me, as I was not familiar with churches. I could see around me some friends had already lost it. Joseph, sitting three rows in front was already in tears. This might have been the first time since he was about 10 I’d seen him cry. And Nike, who was in the exact same position as me was barely able to speak.

Some candles were lit, and the precession began with the choir. An unorthodox choir singing in Tongan. It was beautiful. Passed us came a man carrying a long cross, and three young girls baring wreaths. Close behind followed the coffin. My brother Jack, Sean, J-Wah, Big Dog and Chames were pallbearers. As soon as I saw my brother, I burst into tears. Big Dog, was also already in tears. The other four were staying together. A few people around me lost it just as bad. But I was so, so thankful that the people with me, were with me. The choir quieted when the coffin was placed next to the altar, and the wreaths the girls were carrying placed on top, with photos of him in life. 

His mother, Ana Feki, took the podium to give the opening words. But first the priest started a chant that was soon joined by the twenty-something strong choir. This was brief, and amazing. When Ana spoke, you could hear the pain in her voice. She had lost a son, as we had lost a friend. The words came out in slightly choked Tongan, and although we couldn’t understand what she was saying, her gestures and tone suggested what was being conveyed. We all felt it deep. No one could escape that pain to whatever degree they felt it. He was such an amazing person that it was impossible not to at the very least feel for his family.

Next in line to talk, was Tevita’s older sister, whose grief outweighed her mother’s. She spoke directly about Tevita’s music, and his enormous potential. It was hard to watch, but still the way she made it seem like Tevita was infinitely more important than anything, or anyone else in her life, was spectacular. She, unlike her mother, repeated entire soliloquy in English. No one in the entire church, as large as it was, had a dry eye. It was an impossible concept.

Perhaps it was the colour of the midday sun cutting through the octagonal skylight, or maybe it was sound of the choir, killing the sorrowful silence, that would otherwise consume us. But there was something in the air that day that brought people who had never met each other before to hold each other. I’ve never forgotten that.

The final blessings were said in words I couldn’t make out through the voices in my head, telling me things would be ok. When you lose somebody, all your words get tangled into a mess when you think of them. Everything thing you have ever said that could have been hurtful rings through your ears, what seems like endlessly. It’s a bitter business; death.

The blessings were made, and everyone of faith made their way to the altar, dragging their feet to be communed. Then, again, the pallbearers took to their feet to carry our friend one last time. A sight no one should ever have to witness. Then, the recessional with the choir still in a mournful wail, cutting the silence short. Once the coffin was in the hearse, the friends and family made their way out of the church in as close to unison as we could possibly get through the doors. Now, looking at the coffin with flowers atop in the back of a car, 3 feet from, for some of us, our lost best friend was just too much for anyone. Those who had previously held his or her emotional ground had given up entirely. There was a good 20 minutes we were granted to say our personal goodbyes and honour him in our own way. It morphed into at least 20 years.

After the moment I turned from his bed, made just for him, I remember nothing until reconvening with my brother at the cemetery. When I arrived at the grave, they hadn’t filled it yet and I remember the Tuck And Patti medley of Jimi Hendrix’s “Castles Made Of Sand” and “Little Wing” was played as every single person in attendance fell silent. The beautiful voice, and the slick guitar, somehow captured perfectly every single person’s personal feeling towards the occasion. Despair, regret, fault, remembrance, helplessness or loss. But, even then, no doubt everybody shared the feeling of an endless love for a beautiful person that should never have been let go.

In a way, we never let him go. Tevita was a pure soul. His music was rooted in the earth and his person was ultimate. He looked, and acted almost exactly like Jimi Hendrix. His voice sounded the exact same, too. His guitar playing was reminiscent of nature and rain. He was really one of those people with the Holy Spirit. You could tell just looking at him that he could never do you wrong, and you could never find fault without healthy self-awareness in him. RIP Tevita“

[atypical60]

There!  I said it and in doing so made up a new word. “Fuckeduptedness”.  There’s no need to explain the word either.

It’s a time of reflection for me because in less than three months I’ll reach my 65th birthday.  It’s a weird age, it is—because it signifies the true entryway to Senior Citizenship. When you are between the ages of 60 through 64, it still sounds a bit young.  65 is that magic age. Smack between the early sixties and…seventy!

I may be getting older but I know how to rock!

And other than the usual neurotic thinking such as in 65 years from now I won’t be around—which kills me because I want to be; and the fact I am a failure in my career because I was never able to re-enter the workforce in the type of job I had in NYC, gives me a never-ending pity party. it really ain’t too bad!

…but not yet!  I gotta squeeze a lotta life out first!

We—our generation is a more youthful bunch of old people. We are not our grandmothers or grandfathers either.  We be cool!  We are fun!  We do what we want.

And They hate it!!

Who’s they?  I’ll explain. They are the experts (In their own minds) who pontificate about how we are to dress. How to wear our hair. How we are to live.  They make up the rules we have to follow.

And therein lies the fuckeduptedness of being old.

I’ll give some examples.

When you are old, or if someone younger feels you are old, oftentimes are spoken down to. It’s almost “old people baby talk”.  For some reason people seem to think as you age you no longer hear  nor can you comprehend even the simplest sentence such as “Have a pleasant day.”  We may have aged but we have become smarter and wiser so stop speaking down to us. For God’s sake, I didn’t even speak that idiotic baby-talk to my children when they were babies!  Just stop it!

Ugh. If any adult ever spoke to me in baby talk, he or she would have huge welt across their face!

People also have a tendency to speak LOUDER to you?  Why is this?  I’m the loudest person I know—please do not try to compete with my loudness or I’ll bust your eardrums! You takin’ to me?  I hope not because you don’t sound to bright.

OMG!! There is NO reason to shout at me. I can hear you!!!!!!!!!  Stop it!

The “anti-age” factor.  This is bullshit.  I want to bitch slap the marketing idiot who created that term because he or she needs to be thrown into a jail cell. Age needed to be celebrated!  Many don’t make it to their fifties or older.  My brother was one so don’t even get me started!

Airbrushed, photoshopped and anti-aged.  Ageing is a horrific experience to be ashamed of–isn’t it?

The second you leave mommy’s love canal; you begin to age. Does anti-age mean that we should all stay a few hours old? Because that’s basically what it means?  Why not pro-age?  We’re happy to have those birthdays.  We’ve accomplished great things.  Why anti-it?   Which brings me to….

The Beauty Industry.  This they despise us. This industry views us as cows out to pasture.

 True dat!  The Beauty Industry treats us  lder ladies like cows put to pasture. And these are French cows that I hung out with a few years back while hanging out in the Burgundy countryside.  We got along well–we related to each other!

They will use late-teen to twenty-something models in their “anti-aging” campaigns. And worse yet, will advertise foundations, concealers, primers “made” for us and use those same young models.  There’s plenty of gorgeous mature women with lines, creases and wrinkles on their faces.  How come they aren’t used?

Kendall Jenner featured in Estée Lauder’s 2015 campaigns.

Yes. This is twenty-something Kendall Jenner. Estee Lauder,  a cosmetics company that the “Mature” customer could relate to, now has to look at younger models to figure out just how the hell any makeup will look on their older skin. This is the fuckeduptedness of old!

It drives me nuts too because this is an industry that thinks it’s so “forward” by using gay men wearing make up to prove how diverse they are.  No. You aren’t diverse.  And neither are ads with one obligatory young white girl, one obligatory black girl, one obligatory Asian girl, one obligatory Latina and one said gay guy diverse or inclusive.    Show me the seventy-year old woman of all colors and show me that old gay guy and only then will you be truly diverse.

Where the fuck is the old lady–or old man–or the physically disabled person.  No. You are NOT diverse until everyone is included. Go find a wrinkled person.

They, the Village Green Fashion Policing Society:  How many times?  How many magazine articles?  How many internet postings do we have to be tortured with when it comes to what we should and shouldn’t wear.  I can’t even with this one.

I will wear my skinny jeans, my mini skirts and above-the-knee dresses.  Hoop earrings will continuously remain dangling from my ear lobes.  Over-the-knee boots will continue to be worn.  And nobody will or should dictate how anyone should dress.  Especially the older demographic.

I will continue to wear my leather pants with pointy-toed boots..

I will continue to wear my miniskirts with boots..

As an old, shriveled, wrinkled old prune of the pro-age, I’ll keep my ripped jeans thank you!

And I will wear those glittery heels.

And I’ll continue to wear my hair long. Even if it IS fake!

It saddens me to see that women my age, mid 60’s and in their 50’s and even older fall into that misconception that they need to dress like an unstylish, unattractive wallflower.  Why?  Why can’t a woman who is of the pro-age, boomer generation dress as wonderfully as she feels.  Wait.  Some women don’t feel wonderful. And it’s because many women have given up.  And no wonder.  Fashion magazines are splayed with clothing brands that only advertise young, nubile women in clothing that the older woman can wear and wear well.  It is an absolute disgrace and one of the reasons I haven’t bought a fashion magazine in over a year.  I’ve not renewed any fashion or beauty magazine and have no desire to pick one up.  In fact, I’ve allowed my Allure subscription to expire because they never followed up on their promise to stop using the phrase “anti-age”.

The very last Vogue magazine I read was when Wintour placed Kim and Kanye West on the cover.  If I want to read about celebrities, I’ll buy Star or People.  Fashion magazines have become trash. Bring back the actual models and get rid of the celebrities. Better yet, showcase the magazine’s true demographic of the “over 40” woman!

The Corporate “They”. This is a touchy and personal one.  Perhaps for you too, or someone you know.   Life events happen.  Some are great. Some aren’t.  And somewhere along the line, many of us, regardless of the life situation, have to re-enter the workforce.

Sad but true. Due to corporate closures I’ve lost a couple of jobs and I’ve never recovered the earnings that I’m worth. Think about that one–that’s the story of almost every person over 50 who has reentered the workforce and it is shameful and sad!

Corporate America and Small Businesses do not want to hire anyone over a certain age. It’s bad enough to seek employment over 50 but to seek employment over the age of 60 is a near-impossible feat.

three people over age 50 are holding up signs that tell stories about ageism they faced in the workplace

It’s all true.

And it sucks. It sucks because our generation has such a stellar work ethic. We come from backgrounds where we were taught how important values are.  Granted, many of us aren’t technically gifted the way younger people are, but we are quick learners.   The amount of information and computer skills I’ve learned from each job I’ve had is invaluable.   As a whole, we are open to new ideas. We are excellent workers. We don’t call out sick on a Monday due to excessive partying over the weekends. We won’t need a day or seven off when the kids are off from school or if they are ill.  We are there 100 percent.

It’s incredible because corporations get tax breaks for hiring the disabled but they don’t get anything for hiring the mature demographic. Perhaps they should, then maybe more of us would have the jobs we deserve!

They think we aren’t cool.  Oh yeah.  Ever get the eye-roll, side eye or smirk from someone younger?  I’m sure you have.  Perhaps it’s happened when you listened to the current top 40 music. Or discussing a movie or book or …. basically anything.  It’s because they think we aren’t cool.

Wise words.  No generation will ever be as cool!

Let me tell you something about “cool”. We are of the coolest generation ever.

That boho look?  We started it back in the late 1960’s.  We had the Summer of Love.  Our demographic got politically involved. The Youth Movement protested. We questioned.  We wore clothing that our parents disapproved of.

My favorite Beatle, George Harrison and Patti Boyd, hanging around playing guitar and smoking at the same time. Now THAT’S a feat!

Why—I remember the most beautiful pair of Madras plaid hot pants I purchased with babysitting money.  I wore them to go out and my parents made me go back upstairs to change. Those were the days alright.   We wore miniskirts and tattered and patched jeans. We had “head shops” where those who did not use bongs and roach clips could buy peasant tops and patchouli or ylang ylang oil.

Show me a modern-day fashion designer as cool as Mary Quant. Her iconic Mod look changed everything.  And we had her! And she’s still influencing how women dress!

We had the slick cool of Jimi Hendrix and the raspy cool of Janice Joplin.  I do not think there is anyone currently in the music industry as cool or as talented as they were. I’m biased but it’s true.

NEW YORK – JUNE 1970: Blues singer Janis Joplin on the roof garden of the Chelsea Hotel in June 1970 in New York City, New York. (Photo by David Gahr/Getty Images)

The sad thing is that she never got the chance to pro-age..

….and neither did Jimi.  That’s anti-aging.  They never made it to pro-age.

We danced.

And dance we did!

We partied.

And partied hearty, I might add.  Booge. Oogie. Oogie!

We enjoyed life. And we still do those things. It’s just that we do them at a more measured pace!

And at her age, she can light up whenever she wants!

And therein lies the fuckeduptedness of old.  It’s not how we perceive ourselves it is how they perceive us.  And as pro-agers rather than anti-agers, maybe it’s time to start a new movement!

Others see me as the figure on the left. An old, grumpy, unstylish old woman who should be thrown to pasture.  I see me as I am on the right.  Stylish, pro-aging, and only grumpy when I’m in rush-hour traffic!

What say you?  Do you feel the same way that I do? Do you find yourself being ignored or shoved aside due to aging?  Do you think we aren’t respected the way we should be?  I’m really curious to find out! Do you like my new word??????

The Fuckeduptedness of Being “Old” There!  I said it and in doing so made up a new word. “Fuckeduptedness”.  There’s no need to explain the word either.

[jazzworldquest-blog]

USA: Paquito D'Rivera joins NJCU Alumni Jazz Big Band in Free Waterfront Performance in Jersey City on September 14

New Jersey City University | 2039 John F. Kennedy Boulevard Jersey City, NJ 07305-1597 | 201-200-2000 | njcu.edu   

NJCU Alumni Jazz Big Band

with GRAMMY Award-winning Clarinetist/Saxophonist Paquito D’Rivera

Free Waterfront Performance in Jersey City on September 14

Jersey City, N.J., August 9, 2018 – The NJCU Center for the Arts presents the annual NJCU Alumni Jazz Big Band Concert on Friday, September 14 at 6:00 p.m on the J. Owen Grundy Pier, Exchange Place, in Jersey City. Conducted by retired NJCU Professor Richard Lowenthal, this free concert will feature GRAMMY Award-winning guest artist Paquito D’Rivera in a tribute to WBGO Newark, the world’s flagship jazz radio station, and the 80th anniversary of the Benny Goodman Orchestra’s landmark performance at Carnegie Hall. Born in Cuba, jazz legend Paquito D’Rivera grew up listening to Benny Goodman recordings – in fact, it was these records that inspired his childhood dream of becoming a jazz musician in New York City. The winner of 14 GRAMMY Awards, D’Rivera has had an extraordinary career that spans jazz, Latin jazz and classical music. He is the recipient of the Living Jazz Legend Award from The Kennedy Center, the National Medal of the Arts from the United States, a Lifetime Achievement Award from Carnegie Hall, and an NEA Jazz Master from the National Endowment for the Arts.  Each September since 2013, the NJCU Alumni Jazz Big Band has brought together the University’s professional graduates with high-profile guests for a waterfront concert at Exchange Place. “This concert showcases the quality of our degree programs in jazz, and is a way for us to share this talent with the Jersey City community,” explained President Sue Henderson. “Just as Benny Goodman inspired Paquito D’Rivera, we see NJCU as a source of inspiration and learning for current and future generations of jazz musicians and audiences.” The musical selections on this year’s program celebrate two anniversaries that are significant to the evolution of jazz as a quintessential part of American culture. In 1938, 80 years ago, the Benny Goodman Orchestra performed at Carnegie Hall, making a powerful statement with a racially integrated band on stage, and forever moving jazz from the dance floor to the concert hall. Radio station WBGO first aired in 1948 as the voice of the Newark Board of Education, and became a dedicated jazz outlet in 1979, 40 years ago. Since then, WBGO has become a seminal champion for jazz, creating an international platform for high-quality programming that encompasses a variety of styles and eras.     “There are many artists who would be an appropriate choice to salute WBGO,” said Amy Niles, CEO and President of the radio station, “but there isn’t anyone better than long-time Hudson Country resident Paquito. He exemplifies the spirit of WBGO with his outgoing joyful personality, his constant desire to improve, his quest to expand the boundaries of his music, and his passion for humanity. We are honored that NJCU has chosen to salute WBGO and our jazz family and has invited Paquito to participate.” The NJCU Alumni Jazz Big Band features accomplished musicians who studied at the school as far back as the 1960s, when Professor Lowenthal started the jazz program. Performing this year will be drummer Rich DeRosa (who also arranged some of the band’s charts); sax players Mark Friedman, Noelle Rueschman, Bob Magnusson, Dave Noland, and John DiSanto; trumpeters Freddie Hendrix, Nate Eklund Marcell Bellinger, and Vinnie Cutro; trombonists Rob Edwards, Mike Modero, Danny Hall and Conrad Zulauf; and faculty members Andy Eulau on bass and Alan Farnham on piano. Vocalist and NJCU graduate Vanessa Perea will join the band for several tunes associated with Sarah Vaughn and Benny Goodman. The NJCU Alumni Jazz Big Band Concert with Paquito D’Rivera is free and open to the public, and will take place on the J. Owen Grundy Pier at Exchange Place. Food trucks will be on site and seating is on a first-come, first served basis. In event of rain, the concert will be held in the Harborside Atrium, Harborside 2 and 3 at 34 Exchange Place. The J. Owen Grundy Pier is located near public transportation and there are numerous parking lots in the area. For more information, visit www.njcu.edu/arts. 

ABOUT PAQUITO D’RIVERA Paquito D’Rivera defies categorization. The winner of fourteen GRAMMY Awards, he is celebrated both for his artistry in Latin jazz and his achievements as a classical composer. Born in Havana, Cuba, he performed at age ten with the National Theater Orchestra and, at 17, became a featured soloist with the Cuban National Symphony. A founding member of the Orquesta Cubana de Musica Moderna, he directed that group for two years, while at the same time playing both the clarinet and saxophone with the Cuban National Symphony Orchestra. Additionally, he was a founding member and co-director of the innovative musical ensemble Irakere, which brought him his first GRAMMY in 1979. Mr. D’Rivera is the first artist to win Latin GRAMMYs in both Classical and Latin Jazz categories, and his recordings include more than 30 solo albums. D’Rivera’s highly acclaimed ensembles -- the Chamber Jazz Ensemble, the Paquito D’Rivera Big Band, and the Paquito D’Rivera Quintet -- are in great demand worldwide. While D’Rivera’s discography reflects an enthusiasm for Jazz, Bebop and Latin music, his contributions to classical music are impressive. They include solo performances with the London Philharmonic, the London Symphony Orchestra, the Warsaw Philharmonic Orchestra, the National Symphony Orchestra, the Baltimore Symphony, the Florida Philharmonic Orchestra, and the Brooklyn Philharmonic. In addition to his extraordinary performing career, Mr. D’Rivera has rapidly gained a reputation as an accomplished composer. His commissions include compositions for Jazz at Lincoln Center, the Library of Congress, the National Symphony Orchestra and Rotterdam Philharmonic, the Turtle Island String Quartet, Ying String Quartet, the International Double Reed Society, Syracuse University, Montreal’s Gerald Danovich Saxophone Quartet, the Grant Park Music Festival, and Opus 21. D’Rivera is the recipient of the NEA Jazz Masters Award, the National Medal of the Arts, the Living Jazz Legend Award from the Kennedy Center, and has been awarded numerous other honors both nationally and internationally. He has served as artistic director of jazz programming at the New Jersey Chamber Music Society and continues as Artistic Director of the Festival Internacional de Jazz de Punta Del Este in Uruguay and the DC Jazz Festival in Washington, DC. ABOUT THE NJCU ALUMNI JAZZ BIG BAND The NJCU Alumni Jazz Big Band brings together an impressive group of musicians and shares their talents with the Jersey City community. NJCU jazz alumni have credits in Broadway, television, recording industry, and symphony orchestras, and have worked with some of the most legendary artists of all time, including Gerry Mulligan, Ray Charles, Buddy Rich, Maynard Ferguson, Lionel Hampton, Johnny Mathis, Nancy Wilson, Cher, Mel Tormé, and Tony Bennett. This is the sixth year the NJCU Alumni Jazz Big Band will present a waterfront concert on the J. Owen Grundy Pier. Previous concerts have been 100th Birthday Salute to Ella Fitzgerald, Dizzy Gillespie, Buddy Rich, and Thelonious Monk, with guest artists Jon Faddis and Cyrille Aimée; A Tribute to Lew Soloff of Blood Sweat &Tears with Randy Brecker; A Tribute to Clark Terry with special guest Wynton Marsalis; A Salute to the Other Jersey Boys with John Pizzarelli, Bucky Pizzarelli and Ed Laub; and A Celebration of the Inauguration of President Sue Henderson with trumpeter Jon Faddis. These annual concerts are conducted by Professor Richard Lowenthal, who retired in June 2017 after 50 years at the University. Mr. Lowenthal founded the Jazz Program at NJCU, then Jersey City State College, in 1969. Under Professor Lowenthal’s leadership and continuing with Professors Ed Joffe, Walt Weiskopf, and Gabriel Alegria, NJCU boasts a strong jazz program on both the graduate and undergraduate levels. ABOUT THE NJCU CENTER FOR THE ARTS New Jersey City University (NJCU) Center for the Arts is the creative umbrella for the University’s public programs in the performing, visual, film, and literary arts. A cultural hub of metro-north Jersey, NJCU has strong arts departments, led by accomplished faculty, and presents an array of guest artists and speakers in addition to student performances. ABOUT New Jersey City University (NJCU) The mission at New Jersey City University (NJCU) is to provide a diverse population with an excellent education. The University is committed to the improvement of the educational, intellectual, cultural, socioeconomic, and physical environment of the surrounding urban region and beyond.  Established in 1927 as a training school for teachers, today NJCU is among the most comprehensive universities in the state.  Located in Jersey City, NJ, and minutes from New York City, NJCU's fully accredited College of Arts and Sciences, Education, Professional Studies, and School of Business offer 43 undergraduate degree programs and 27 master’s programs and 2 doctoral programs, including emerging and interdisciplinary fields. NJCU students engage in rigorous applied-learning experiences that include opportunities to study abroad, and cooperative education internships.  NJCU operates two additional campus sites—NJCU School of Business at Harborside Plaza 2 in Jersey City’s financial district and NJCU at Brookdale in Wall Township in Monmouth County.

# # # # #

Caption: Paquito D'Rivera Photo credit: Geandy Pavon   Contact:               Ellen Wayman-Gordon 201-200-3426 / ewaymangordo@njcu.edu          Don Jay Smith                                                          908-832-1020 / don@lksassociates.com

via Blogger https://ift.tt/2BCbiqg

[jazzviewswithcjshearn]

A deeper look at Grant Green: Funk In France: From Paris To Antibes 1969-1970 and Slick! Live At Oil Can Harry’s (Resonance, 2018)

Funk In France: From Paris To Antibes 1969-1970: Grant Green: guitar; Larry Ridley: bass; Don Lamond: drums, Barney Kessel: guitar* (disc 1, track 6) Claude Bartee: tenor saxophone; Clarence Palmer: organ; Billy Wilson: drums (disc 1, track 7, disc 2: tracks 1-3).

Slick! Live At Oil Can Harry's: Grant Green: guitar; Emmanuel Riggins: electric piano; Ronnie  Ware: bass; Greg “Vibrations” Williams: drums; Gerald Izzard: percussion.

Funk In France: From Paris To Antibes 1969-1970 by guitarist Grant Green marks the first release of “new” material since Live At The Club Mozambique (Blue Note, 2006) twelve years ago.  The recording, like what Resonance has done in the past, makes available legitimately using the best possible sources music that has been only available in bootleg form for many years.  It also marks the third release since Resonance partnered with INA in France beginning with Larry Young's superb In Paris: The ORTF Recordings and in January of this year, the only official release of Wes Montgomery's famous concert  from his only European visit Wes Montgomery In Paris: The Definitive ORTF Recording. INA's partnership with Resonance has unearthed a staggering amount of holdings, and Funk In France is the next release in the series.  The companion album Slick! Live At Oil Can Harry's from the now defunct Vancouver night spot, curated from the personal collection of DJ Gary Barclay, captures Green with a smoking working band as he was currently without a recording contract.  What both releases do is capture the guitarist's transformation from a hard bop icon amongst cognoscenti into a groove machine, and much like Miles Davis achieved with Bitches Brew (Columbia, 1969) and On The Corner (Columbia, 1972)  these updates in sound garnered him a new audience.  Together these new entries represent the earliest and last known live entries in the guitarist’s career.   On both albums, Green's playing is ferocious, but at the same time there are some musical issues that warrant mention.

Funk In France is really two albums in one package.  The Round House: Live At La Maison de la Radio takes up the majority of disc 1 and captures Green in an all star trio with bassist Larry Ridley and drummer Don Lamond.  Green was featured that October evening in a concert at La Maison de la Radio jointly with Kenny Burrell and Barney Kessel with each guitarist playing a short set with the rhythm section, then  playing together at the concert apex. Originally Tal Farlow was slated to be the third guitarist but Green ended up as his replacement, and his set is featured in it's entirety.  The main reason of interest for this first set is it is only the third time that Grant Green was featured in a guitar-bass-drums format other than the classic Green Street (Blue Note, 1961) and the posthumous Remembering initially only released on Blue Note in Japan in 1980.  The other reason is that it finds Green still playing straight ahead in 1969, while pointing the way to the future.

The Paris  performance of  The Round House followed the recording of Green's return to Blue Note, Carryin' On by three weeks.  The concert finds a renewed Green who left a heroin addiction in the dust hungry to make connections with a new audience, and really start incorporating soul, funk and R&B into his sound. Unfortunately drummer Don Lamond proves to be a stylistic mismatch for Green, and that is shown on the James Brown opener “I Don't Want Nobody To Give Me Nothing (Open Up The Door  And  I'll Get It Myself)”. While he does create a pocket with Ridley for the guitarist to rip some audacious ideas over, extremely astute listeners and drummers will notice that he comes in on the second beat of the second bar, and that some of his drum fills are bloated and really do not fit. Although Lamond was a drummer in the band of Woody Herman among others, and a first call bop and session ace, he sounds not quite adjusted to the guitarist's laid back time feel. When compared to the studio version three years later on Shades Of Green (Blue Note, 1972) featuring Stix Hooper in the drum chair, the differences in authenticity and pocket are startling. On “Oleo” which Green recorded in a stellar rendition with Sonny Clark in 1962, Lamond rushes the tempo despite Ridley's unwavering foundation and Green sailing on top.   The drummer's four bar exchanges with the guitarist  using the vocabulary of Buddy Rich, Louis Bellson and Gene Krupa is quite awkward, and another sign of the stylistic clash. Thankfully after a shaky start in the first two tunes, Lamond fares much better throughout the rest of the set.  Green luxuriates in the changes of Tom Jobim's timeless “How Insensitive”, and it is not hard at all to hear the Green influence in the versions that Pat Metheny recorded on the DVD's Secret Story Live (Videoarts, 1992) and Speaking Of Now Live (Videoarts, 2003).  Green also excels on the slow burn of “Untitled Blues”, which gets vocal approval from Ridley, and “I Wish You Love” by Charles Trenet, featuring Barney Kessel guesting to add harmonic muscle.  The tune was taped by the guitarist in 1964 in an immortal, smoky version with the late Bobby Hutcherson, Larry Young and Elvin Jones for Street Of Dreams (Blue Note).  

From ORTF's Round House, we go to Antibes on July 18th and 20th 1970 for Haute Funk: Live At The Antibes Jazz Festival (1970). While both Antibes performances could have comfortably fit on CD 2, the opener from the July 18th, performance “Upshot” is the last track on the first disc.   The Antibes concerts feature extended performances from tunes featured on Carryin' On with a quartet consisting of Claude Bartee on tenor saxophone, Clarence Palmer on organ and drummer Billy Wilson.  Wilson is very obscure and not much is known about him outside two tracks of a Gerry Mulligan jam session, and organist Charles Earland's Soul Story (Prestige, 1971).  It is unclear whether he was a member of Green's touring band or chosen as a drummer just for the Antibes occasion. Legendary drummer and producer Lenny White has frequently discussed the shift from  straight ahead jazz to integrating aspects of rock, pop and soul as a way for jazz musicians to play rock and roll but still indulge the jazz background by including interesting harmonies. The latter half of Funk In France signifies this sentiment.  

Clarence Palmer's excellent interview with Resonance president Zev Feldman backs up White's explanation nearly to a tee, and the performances certainly form a bridge between jazz and what eventually became to be known as the jam band movement.  Woodstock had occurred the previous August and changed society,  popular culture and music permanently. Much of the jazz tinged explorations of Santana and Jimi Hendrix were also occurring with jazz musicians like Donald Byrd, Freddie Hubbard, Lou Donaldson, George Benson and Stanley Turrentine including pop in their music.  Green himself was approaching things from  more pop vein on Carryin' On to the point that  Palmer indicated labels were trying to make black musicians play rock and white musicians jazz. Blue Note co founder Francis Wolff had just returned from a  meeting with three of the big labels on the way to the Carryin' On session in Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey where executives were discussing this direction. Companies were trying to make a clear division between white and black music; Palmer relayed to Feldman: “The music we were playing on Carryin' On we referred to as rock and roll.  It wasn't jazz to us at all.  Grant had been with Larry Young and recorded some really heavy bebop jazz at that time.  So you had Grant and Claude Bartee of course”.  

The Antibes sets are full of fiery improvisation and deep grooves though as with the first disc, there are caveats. The drummer is truly the leader of a band despite the name of the headliner as Pat Metheny so often mentions.  There are some moments where it's clear Wilson is getting his bearings.  He frames the first “Upshot” with a furious boogaloo rhythm for Green to savagely dip into for chorus after chorus, but during Claude Bartee's equally heated solo, he stops rather abruptly for four bars.  The plausible explanation could be perhaps his bass drum moved and he had move it back into place. Occasionally drummers drop out for a few bars by design and this clearly was not the case. Clarence Palmer proves to be the most interesting soloist throughout the Antibes performance.  He requested a Hammond B-3, but was given a Hammond M-3, a much smaller organ with only 7 foot pedals.  The organ also features no percussion circuit like a B-3 (though one can later be added) so he had to adapt by playing bass lines on the lower manual almost exclusively and make use of  a smaller tone color palette.  Palmer's bass lines have a unique movement and hump which made them an incredibly attractive part of George Benson's classic Beyond The Blue Horizon (CTI, 1971) and his quartal voicings a la McCoy Tyner and Larry Young make the slow groove build of “Hurt So Bad” positively shine. Green's  solo is wonderfully melodic, and Bartee is impassioned, while Wilson sounds at his best and more comfortable here than “Upshot”.  By the July 20th gig, Wilson definitely seems more attuned to and responds much better to Green's trademark use of repetition  though strangely during the organ solo on the lengthy “Hi Heel Sneakers”, he  again stops playing for a few bars.  There's an infectious energy palpable on the Antibes portion Funk In France that makes it a fun listen but one wonders what rhythm section combustion would have occurred had Idris Muhammad, Joe Dukes, Otis Finch, Hugh Walker, Billy Cobham or even Jack DeJohnette had been the drummer on those nights.

Fast forward to September 1975 in Vancouver, Canada.  That is the setting for Slick! Live At Oil Can Harry's. Grant Green was in a very tenuous position not having a record deal.  He had kicked his heroin habit in 1967-1968 and settled in Detroit, and was again seeking new audiences. Oil Can Harry's was the centerpiece of a  vibrant Vancouver jazz scene in the 1970's that hosted everyone from Dexter Gordon, Jack DeJohnette's Directions, Herbie Hancock and the Headhunters, and Donald Byrd and the Blackbyrds.  Gary Barclay was a DJ at CHQM-FM and hosted The All Night Jazz Show.  After the station closed it's doors, Barclay kept a collection of  tapes he recorded from the live shows to be broadcast a week following the broadcast date. Zev Feldman heard the 10” reel in the summer of 2017 which was originally a A&R submission given to mega reissue producer, Michael Cuscuna and decided it had to be issued.  The Oil Can Harry's performance features Green with keyboardist Emmanuel Riggins (who appeared on three Green albums that decade), bassist Ronnie Ware, percussionist Gerald Izzard (who had toured with Dizzy Gillespie) and drummer Greg “Vibrations” Williams.  Like Billy Wilson on the Funk In France album, Izzard and Ware are very obscure names, but this ensemble had logged some time together.  Emmanuel Riggins, the father of drummer and hip hop producer Karriem Riggins was instrumental in exposing Green to a wider range of music and the heavier funk that pervades this recording.   Ronnie Ware was hired shortly after Live At The Lighthouse (Blue Note, 1972), and  Greg Williams had been the drummer on that classic album.  The drummer was no stranger to having a soul-jazz pedigree having met the guitarist  between 1968-1970 at Detroit's Club Mozambique when Green had organist Ronnie Foster in his group, and having played in the bands of Lou Donaldson and Dr. Lonnie Smith.  He was also highly in tune with Green's rhythmic sense, and he has a strong hook up with percussionist Izzard.

Green once more draws on his straight ahead history by including Charlie Parker's “Now's The Time” as a sort of palette cleanser for the funk to come.  It's the guitarist's way of connecting the past to what he was doing at the time, and he delights in the torrents of easily loping lines that occasionally flow in to double time. Hearing Emmanuel Riggins stretch on the tune is a pleasure as well because he  was sorely underrated, and was considered to be a very special player by all that knew him.  “How Insensitive” is stretched out for 26 minutes, and Green once more shows his affinity for the tune, prodded along by Izzard's carefully placed cowbell and wood block interjections but the deliriously funky coda really makes the tune.  The highlight of Slick happens to be a nearly 32 minute medley of Stanley Clarke's “Vulcan Princess”, the Ohio Players' relentless “Skin Tight”, Bobby Womack's “A Woman's Gotta Have It”, “Boogie On Reggae Woman” by Stevie Wonder, and the OJays' “For The Love Of Money”.  The music of this medley finds Green's music as never been presented before on any one of his albums, and is an even stronger link to the eventual jam band scene.  Ware's wah wah'd bass announces the unforgettable bass line of “Skin Tight” and Green and Riggins,on Hohner D-6 clavinet have a vulcan mind meld (no pun intended) that make them nearly imperceptible from each other.  Grooves abound at the close of the medley with “For The Love Of Money” finding Williams blending percussively with Izzard. Needless to say, the material here easily blows away anything from Green's lone studio album of the period, The Main Attraction (Kudu, 1976) captured in the twilight years of CTI's initial heyday. This was a  group  Green wanted to keep together, but the recording of The Main Attraction unfortunately lead to that band's demise.  Green also toured as a part of the CTI All Stars before he released his final studio album Easy (Delmark, 1978).

Resonance Records has once more come up with a pair of releases to attempt to add an alternate angle to a legendary artist.  The booklets and package design are non pareil in terms of their scope, both albums feature fantastic cover art and design by former Blue Note designer Burton Yount, and the exhaustive notes, photos and documentation are great. The two alternate covers for The Round House and Haute Funk included on the back inner tray insert behind both CD's are a nice touch. Whatever caveats that were mentioned with Funk In France depending on taste, can be overlooked due to the sheer energy of the music, especially from the Antibes concerts.  These albums are not for Grant Green newcomers but for connoisseurs and completists, or for those with a large cross section of his catalog.  For new fans Grantstand, The Complete Quartets With Sonny Clark, Street Of Dreams, Alive, Live At The Lighthouse, Into Somethin' (by Larry Young), Workout (by Hank Mobley), Up At Minton's (by Stanley Turrentine) Oh Baby! (by John Patton) are  certainly better entries into the world of Grant Green, but for seasoned fans these two new archival finds will have something of value.  

The ratings for each album will be broken up into three separate categories:

Funk In France: From Paris To Antibes 1969-1970

Package design: 10/10

Booklet: 10/10

Music: 6.5/10

Slick!  Live At Oil Can Harry's

Package design: 10/10

Booklet: 10/10

Music: 8/10

[wsm15-blog]

How is Popular Culture Created?

The first blog post displayed below discusses the foundations of popular culture as well as an approach to the understanding of the sociology of media and pop culture. The focus of this post was to demonstrate how the elements of popular cultural, grounded in the relationship between media and consumer, is a clear manifestation of cultural hegemony. The critical approach to the sociology of media and popular culture explains how a handful of corporations referred to as “culture giants” own and control an overwhelming majority of what is presented and consumed in mass media. The reach of these culture giants spans from cinema, music, news outlets, and social media. The goal of my first blog post was to illustrate the massive influence of these culture giants in the various elements of popular culture. With my second blog post, however, I want to now shift my focus from the domination of culture giants on what we consume to how popular culture is created in the first place. I will focus on how different forms of entertainment and expression become wide-spread cultural phenomenon based on the conventions of popular culture and societal context as well as the systems that regulate such cultural items. Through analyzing the interaction between these factors, an understanding of how popular culture is created will be presented. I will primarily use chapters 5 in David Grazian’s “Mix It Up” to outline the creation of popular culture and how media and culture industries work.

Cultural creativity begins with the creation of something that can serves some sort of purpose. Art, music, buildings, technology, etc., differ greatly between one another as far as function, but all serve some sort of purpose. Grazian begins his demonstration of cultural creativity by stating that despite the nearly endless types of cultural items that can be created, they all rely on collaboration and not just individual effort. An interesting link can be made between how collaboration influences both how popular culture is both created and received. The concept of collective effervescence is based on a shared feeling of connectedness and uniformity that consumers of culture feel. This can be represented by sentiments of belongingness between fans of a certain sports team in a packed arena. The success of what is presented in culture depends on its ability to connect different kinds of consumers into a cohesive audience who share a similar passion. Likewise, the creation of such items of popular culture relies on similar group cohesion as well. Sociologist Michael P. Farrell refers to collective worlds of creativity as “collaborative circles” (Mix It Up, pg. 99). An example of this can be seen in the rise of impressionist art in Europe in the late 19th century. The socialization and collective efforts of different artists such as Claude Monet, Camille Pissarro, and Edgar Degas led to the creation of an art style that is now renowned and appreciated across the globe (Mix It Up, pg. 99). The power of collaboration can be seen in both creation and success of cultural phenomenon all across history and can be viewed as the beginning component of cultural creativity.

The creators of culture, however, must typically create things that are in accordance to cultural conventions in order for their work to become popular.  Grazian defines cultural conventions are the taken-for-granted rules and the often unspoken, agreed-upon expectations that make creation and consumption of culture possible (Mix It Up, pg. 102). While these conventions may not be well-known by the general public, it is a key factor in what cultural items achieve mass success. Examples of such conventions can be easily seen in the realm of music. For instance, popular songs are often between 3-4 minutes, utilize defined, meaningful language and terminology, and use standardized materials, tools, and technology (Mix It Up, pg. 102). Instrumentation, lyrics, and melodies that are easily recognizable and enjoyed are key to certain songs achieving cultural popularity. Seeing as conventions in the realm of music are guidelines that have existed for some time, it comes as no surprise to see that elements of today’s popular music reflects elements of the equally popular music in the past. For instance, the C–G–Am–F chord progression can be seen in an overwhelming amount of popular songs all across the history of modern music. This is a clear representation of a cultural convention, for this chord progression serves as a guideline for the attractiveness and popularity of both today’s music and music of prior generations. However, such conventions can limit creativity, and artists who venture out of these guidelines run the risk of becoming too radical or avant-garde, limiting their mass appeal.

Despite the role of conventions in cultural creativity, much of popular culture’s biggest moments did not appeal to traditional conventions. Such moments that were shocking, boundary-breaking, and tantalizing were often very memorable and served as popular culture milestones. For instance, Jimi Hendrix’s performance of The Star-Spangled Banner at the Woodstock music festival in 1969 was seen by many as offensive, disrespectful, poorly-executed, and downright bizarre. However, it was one of modern music’s biggest moments. This begs the question of why and how such an unconventional moment in popular culture became so huge. Grazian suggests that such ground-breaking cultural moments are dependent on both the context in which it is presented and the desires and attitudes of the audience (Mix It Up, pg. 99, 109). While conventions play a crucial role in cultural creativity, popular culture items must represent something that the consumers can relate to and connect with on a personal, intimate level. The almost tangible tension of American Society during the late 60’s due mostly to the Vietnam war and the civil rights movement needed cultural moments that reflected the drama and change that American society was enduring. For this reason, even though the performance given by Hendrix broke almost all traditional musical conventions, it was immensely popular. The ear-piercing, heavily-distorted, and emotive playing represented the turbulence of America during that time. This was a representation of the current context of society as well as the dramatic changes in the attitudes, behavior, and demands of American youth during that time. Such a ground-breaking performance was desirable was so popular because the audience of American youth desired cultural heroes that were just as boundary-breaking as they were. So, while this performance was unconventional in almost every way imaginable, it met both the changing demands of its audience as well as remarkably symbolizing of the societal tension of American society. Grazian argues that cultural milestones such as this must still appeal to the demands and context of society despite any level of unconventionality (Mix It Up, pg. 102).

Underneath the surface of conventions, audience demands, and societal representation, cultural items achieve mass success based on other lesser-known factors. Grazian discusses three systems that influence how culture is created that goes beyond the artists and the audience. These different systems that regulate how cultural items are produced, presented, and distributed. The first system is the legal guidelines that impacts how cultural items are presented, which are represented by copyright protections (Mix It Up, pg. 105). The second is the organizational apparatus system structures how media and culture is promoted and sold to audiences (Mix It Up, pg. 105). The goal of this system is profit, which is achieved through mass audience appeal. Also, this system promotes the special interests of the corporations who control the distribution of certain cultural items such as songs and movies. This is what was discussed in the first blog post. Thirdly, technology plays a huge role in how culture is displayed and made available (pg. 105). These three systems are key to how culture is created, yet they are not widely known by the general public. While the foundation of popular culture creativity relies on the relationship between artist and consumer, these three systems discussed by Grazian are what enable such a relationship to exist.

Cultural creativity is an intricate and somewhat contradictory subject. While artists often desire to be unique and genre-defying, the conventions set in place by society must typically be met for their work to become popular. However, when an artist ventures out of such creative restraints, that work must be reflective of something significant in society that its audience can relate to. Grazian’s main argument discussed in this blog post is that societal conventions as well as demands are the two key aspects of cultural creativity. However, he argues that the role of legal, technological, and organizational systems in the production and distribution of cultural items are of equal importance. The relationship between societal conventions, desires, and appeals with the systems that control the how culture is distributed is the foundation of cultural creativity. By outlining these factors and how they interact with one another, an understanding of how popular culture is created can be achieved.

Here is a link to a video of Jimi Hendrix’s performance of The Star-Spangled Banner. Seeing and hearing this legendary performance puts the concepts discussed in this blog post into perspective.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MwIymq0iTsw

[hottytoddynews]

Liam Hendrix Heath’s “Nation Down” won the Artist Vodka competition and will be one of the featured films at this year’s festival.

Heading into its 15th year, the Oxford Film Festival (OFF) has launched a crowdfunding campaign to raise the final amount of money needed for the 2018 event, which runs Feb. 7-11.

The campaign launched December 1 and is open to all those willing and able to donate to the OFF.

There will be several levels of donations and incentives that provide a wide range of opportunities to become more involved with Oxford Film Festival. Donation categories range from $15 to $500, with perks to match at each level.

For a $15 birthday donation, you receive an Oxford Film Festival birthday card on the OFF Facebook wall, a special thank-you on the screen at the festival itself, and a thank-you on the OFF website. At the $30 level, donors receive the same perks in addition to 15 percent off any ticket or pass at the festival.

The $45 level grants the same perks as the $15 and $30 levels, plus 25 percent off any ticket or pass for the festival.

The perks get even better at the $75 level, at which you will receive a five-pack ticket to the Oxford Film Festival and can enjoy five free movies, along with a birthday e-card, screening thanks, and thanks on the OFF website.

At the $120 level, you will get 10 film tickets to use for yourself or to share for a fun night at the festival. A weekend pass comes with the $135 donation level, and at the $250 level you become a sponsor of the festival with a VIP pass and much more.

The $500 level tops the charts with excitement, as it provides 2 VIP passes, a 2018 festival shirt, a 25 percent discount for any ticketed festival events, as well as special thanks on the OFF site.

The full 2018 festival schedule and ticket purchases will go live online in January 2018, but the best way to currently support OFF is through the crowdfunding campaign, said OFF Executive Director Melanie Addington. Donations will help raise the final funds needed to make the festival possible.

Special to HottyToddy.com.

The post Oxford Film Festival Seeks Support Through Crowdfunding Campaign appeared first on HottyToddy.com.

[flawedwrites]

  “I don’t get why they judge you for that. I find it inspiring.” David had lost touch with the church when his life was in shambles, but when he’d built himself up, made his life better and turned himself into a better man, he had reconnected with it. It still seemed surreal when he first heard about Hendrix – and upon first meeting the man, he had been a bit of a goner. He was attractive, kind, gentle, and not just attracted to women. David would have never forgiven himself if he didn’t at least try to talk to him that night. “Oh, really? Thank you. That’s good to hear,” he grinned. “I can say the same about you.” It was true, despite the fact that David worked in the movie industry, he couldn’t remember the last time someone had intrigued him as much as the man before him did.

    “Well, I wouldn’t mind that either,” he admitted, the smile on his lips softening a little. Picking up his own glass, he gestured to the place around them. “How about we take a walk?” Really, his intention was simply to get Hendrix away from the crowd so no one would disturb them. Once it was a little quieter around them, he cleared his throat. “What do you want to know about me then?”

Feeling thankful that David saw it in the same way that he did when others judged him for being a minister, Hendrix shrugged his broad shoulders. “I guess I haven’t dated anyone religious in awhile. Maybe that’s why it never ended up working out. I think it’s important for me when I do end up dating someone to date someone who is faithful. Not necessarily this religion, (though that would be a plus) but any religion that promotes the same theologies and values.” Hendrix went on, knowing that he was probably rambling as well as sounding like an idiot but he couldn’t help himself. After all, he was a minister - it was what he did for a living.

“I’m glad you think it’s good. Otherwise I would be quite embarrassed.” Hendrix agreed and blushed though thankfully it was probably hidden behind the scruff of a beard he had managed to grow. “Well, I know what you do for a living so we don’t have to beat around the bush with small talk.” Hendrix said once they were outside and walking down the lamp lit street as dinner time had quickly turned into darkness. “Hmm. What are your dreams for yourself? What are your favourite things to do? What’s your favourite food? That kind of thing.” Hendrix wiggled his eyebrow playfully at David. “You know, the kind of thing you ask to know about someone before you decide if you want to ask them out on a date.” @requicmswrites​

[thedunwells]

Flamenco Props And Accessories

Soft guitar cases aren't always the best option however. Buy Now Which electric guitar would your choose as a beginner? If you have a little more confidence in yourself you may choose to buy your parts piece by piece. Purchasing art sculptures to display in your home or garden can be expensive, but you can create your own with a little creativity and some decoupage skills. Plus, to make this gift a little more personal, engrave his initials on it. The medium-sized shawl is also worn - not thrown around the shoulders but wrapped and pinned to form a shawl top (read more about that in my article about shawls here). Nuevo flamenco has made less of an impact here! Daisy Rock Girl Guitars are the best guitars for girls! Those who are looking for the best possible protection for their guitar should opt for a hardshell guitar case. So, which should you choose, a case or gig bag? The primary item on th elist could be a hard shell case for transporting the guitar. I held it in place until I felt the glue had begun to set up, and then turned the guitar over and let the glue dry for a couple of hours.

The classic mechanical is a solid, padded steel bar that is held in place by a screw-in mechanical wall art guitar of some kind. Stunning sandals along with a chiffon wrap might be paired with this kind of dress to restore ready for possibly an indoor or perhaps outdoor wedding. Dangling diamond earrings along with high heel sandals tend to be stunning features to make this kind of dress any standout in your wedding photographs. Your own personal 2007 participant, even though it still might produce stunning photos and high quality, an individual be missing all the new features that were included with the majority of today’s latest models. Most reputable online stores will comprise a quality image along with a report of the key features of the ukulele. This will give you the background reinforcement to sing and use as a songwriting tool. So if you want to sound like the Beatles in 1966 when they played twist n shout or Jimi Hendrix when he played the star spangled banner at woodstock the line 6 pod will make it sound just like that. If you want extra data in regard to college scholarships and grants or blues guitar lessons drop by the blogger’s Site in a jiffy.

From wooden exteriors to smooth polished completions, select a guitar that looks adequate. Guitar players need something to play, and tablature songbooks with lots of songs in them can keep them busy for months. Get yourself a little…some sort of book with the clear pages in it so you can keep all your notes in. This is especially true of those who find that plastic picks can be hard to keep hold of. Because factory-designed boards can be costly and offer few size options, many musicians find that building their own systems is more effective and affordable. Some of the unique collections of Jewelry San Francisco look its gallery stock more filled. It also added more precision string slotting to the design. Be it a carriage set or a castle set with added characters, fun is guaranteed - great for parties and gatherings too! A great substitute for the frugal guitarist is their newer line of analog delay pedals, called the Deluxe Memory Boy. For fitness enthusiasts and adrenaline junkies, any gift that has something to do with sports or being outdoors is ideal. These also serve as the perfect gift for anyone who loves their far share of music and most importantly their guitar.

You might have a person’s stethoscope tailored which enable it to create a rather exclusive and gift for an individual. But because of the number of stores that are accessible, you might have some complexity in selecting one. Selecting a good guitar is very important, because it should give the right sound and feel right when you are holding it in your hands. Fretwire, if you are really brave. For generations guitarists have honed their chops by emulating the masters, and these guys are definitely the masters. If one of his favorite bands is coming to town for a concert, surprise your music lover with a pair of tickets to the concert. Later on, when I was playing in bands, I used to change my strings a couple of times per week, whether they needed it or not. Fig. 1: An electronic tuner is essential for playing in perfect tune in the studio.

But there is a way to be smart about something as simple as extra strings. Just remember the names aren't as important as the actual gauge of the strings. You may study at your individual pace with none pressures from a guitar teacher. You may also in an sophisticated cocktail blouse in which retains you properly recognized from the group. An acoustic guitar pickup nicely secures to the underside of your bridgeplate, inside the guitar. If you get lost check out the Guitar Wiring Archive at Guitar Electronics. Whatever you do, don’t get hung up on crazy patterns and designs. Just lately, the chip sets that makes GPS models function haven’t been considerably up to date and the discontinued units still perform very well. This highschool trend also typically consists of a number of trinkets together with studded bracelets, a tribal necklace. You'll likely need to collect various resources along your journey.

[vernicle]

Electric Guitar Styles

[ad_1] A manual to the necessary types of guitar taking part in, from the '50s to the present

By its extremely character, the guitar is a rhythm instrument. Absolutely sure, it can be employed to develop vocal-like, one-note melodies and scorching direct breaks, but more normally it really is found at the coronary heart of the rhythm part, driving the progressions of your favourite rock and pop tunes. So, what does it get to be a good rhythm participant? Perfectly, the most evident remedy is to know a lot of chords. But though a knowledge of chords and chord design is vital, it is not ample by itself. To be a genuinely proficient rhythm guitarist, a participant have to be common with a wide variety of types and how the guitar normally features in each. For instance, does the guitar play a busy component with double stops and triads, or get the opposite method with totally-voiced, sustained chords? Is the guitar just one particular part of a tightly-structured rhythm part, or does it have significant flexibility to develop its own component? What's the underlying rhythm the guitar plays-straight eigh ths, shuffle eighths, 16th-note funk-and how is that rhythm performed?

In this report, we'll remedy these inquiries by getting a appear at a broad survey of types, from the '50s to the '90s, with an emphasis on the most renowned players in each style.

'50s Rock 'n' Roll

When '50s rock 'n' roll is stated currently, one particular can't assist but assume of Chuck Berry, the founding father of early rock 'n' roll guitar. Berry popularized the driving, muted eighth-note determine referred to by numerous as the "Chuck Berry rhythm." Observe how both of those voicings use only two chord tones: root/fifth, and root/sixth. This makes the riff very easily relevant for significant and dominant 7th sort chords. Listened to in this sort of Berry classics as "Johnny B. Goode" and "Roll Around Beethoven," it is still employed to this working day as the fundamental rhythm for numerous tunes. For instance, Bachman Turner Overdrive extra some eighth-note syncopation to it and came up with the opening riff to their massive 1974 hit "Takin' Care of Organization".

Also in the '50s, artists like Carl Perkins ("Blue Suede Sneakers") and a youthful Elvis Presley ("That's Alright Mama," "Hound Canine") had been burning up the document charts with an infectious blend of state, blues, and jazz that came to be identified as "rockabilly." Many thanks to guitarist Brian Setzer (Stray Cats, Brian Setzer Orchestra), rockabilly savored a revival in the '80s and is now firmly ensconced in the recent swing revival. This design and style is based upon the shuffle eighth-note rhythm, and guitarists tend to use "jazzier" sounding sixth-, ninth-, and 13th-sort chord voicings to flesh out their components

'60s Rock and Folks

The guitar's reputation exploded in the early '60s: The Ventures had been inventing guitar instrumental rock, the Beach Boys had been singing about the browsing trend and drag racing, and waiting in the wings had been the Beatles. Rhythm guitar was "cool," and every single child desired to study the opening chords to the Ventures' mega-hit, "Walk Do not Run". The movable condition of the barre chord opened up a environment of alternatives and was in massive component responsible for the adventurous progressions found in the music of the Beatles, psychedelic, and fashionable rock. Maintain in thoughts that the barre chord's whole audio makes it a ideal alternative for voicings in a two-guitar band or trio circumstances, but it should really be employed with treatment in conjunction with a keyboard, as the audio can get too dense.

Sharing the airwaves in the early and mid '60s was folks music. The reputation of Peter, Paul & Mary, the Kingston Trio, and Bob Dylan brought the music to the fore, considerably boosting product sales of acoustic guitars together the way. This folks design and style of strumming can now be read in tunes by a array of artists, from the Beatles, Creedence Clearwater Revival, the Eagles, and Tom Petty to R.E.M., Counting Crows, Oasis, and Matchbox twenty. Open position chords are the place it really is at for this timeless design and style, which is based upon uncomplicated eighth-note strumming patterns. 3rd Eye Blind's "Semi-Charmed Daily life" offers a revved-up version of a time-honored folks progression.

Another highly useful "folkism" is the classical-encouraged, fingerpicked arpeggiated pattern designed renowned by Jimmy Site in Led Zeppelin's folks/really hard rock ballad, "Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You."

Rhythm & Blues

R&B, a exceptional combination of blues, gospel, and soul, at last commenced having the consideration it deserved in the mid '60s. The person who practically wrote the ebook on R&B guitar is Steve Cropper. That's him on "Environmentally friendly Onions" (Booker T. & the MGs), "Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay" (Otis Redding), and "Soul Male" (both of those Sam & Dave and Blues Brothers versions). Cropper normally eschewed totally-voiced chords, opting alternatively for stripped-down components involving the use of 3rds, 4ths, and 6ths. For instance, on the intro to "Soul Male," alternatively of taking part in totally-voiced chords, he plays only the fifth and 3rd of each voicing, all on the identical strings This design and style of "hook" rhythm taking part in can develop magic in a music.

Hendrix

Despite the fact that commonly remembered for his baffling soloing approaches, audio effects, and wild phase antics, the multi-faceted Jimi Hendrix laid down some of the smoothest and most soulful R&B rhythms at any time. On ballads like "The Wind Cries Mary" and "Very little Wing," you'll listen to his trademark hammer-on 3rds and sliding 4ths together with his groundbreaking chord/scale rhythm procedure. Hendrix tended to play his chord/scale rhythm fills by superimposing scale patterns in excess of fundamental barre chord designs. If you know your scale patterns and adhere to a uncomplicated rule (significant chord/significant scale, insignificant chord/insignificant scale), you'll uncover a wealth of notes to pick out from. Still left-hand muting is a critical component in holding the encompassing strings from ringing. Maintain in thoughts that in this design and style, it really is simple to go overboard and play too numerous notes, sounding more like a soloist than a rhythm guitarist. A good rule of thumb is to play uncomplicated rhythms, though waiting for spaces in the phrasing of the vocalist to hire your fills.

[ad_2] Resource by Grant Bradshaw

from Viral News Around The World - Feed http://ift.tt/2sdf7tR via IFTTT

[movietvtechgeeks]

Latest story from https://movietvtechgeeks.com/la-la-land-sweeps-89th-oscar-nominations-plus-interesting-snubs/

'La La Land' sweeps 89th Oscar nominations plus interesting snubs

As no surprise, “La La Land” swept the 89th Oscar nominations with 14 tying it with “Titanic” and that classic Bette Davis film “All About Eve.” Not bad company, and no one will be surprised if it sweeps in wins as this is the type of wistful dreamy film that many people in the country need right now.

As Academy Award historians can show, Oscar-winning films normally show the temperature of the political climate in the country. When the country is in turmoil, many times, fantasy films that take you away win the top prize.

“Moonlight” and “Arrival” were behind with eight nominations each. The #OscarsSoWhite campaign has made some impact as 35 percent of this year’s acting nominees are people of color. This includes prior winners Denzel Washington (“Fences”) and Octavia Spencer (“Hidden Figures”).

Mel Gibson has officially made it back into Hollywood’s embrace after a few controversies, but we know that town loves a second, third and fourth act.

As happens every year, there are always surprising snubs and nominations no one saw coming. That’s what makes the awards most fun, the surprises of lesser known films getting recognition.

You can also see the complete list of 2017 Oscar Nomination further down.

2017 Top Oscar Snubs and Surprises

SNUB: “Deadpool” In the end, Oscar voters got cold feet when it came to recognizing the 20th Century Fox mega-hit starring Ryan Reynolds as a disfigured mercenary with the power to heal himself. If it had made the cut, “Deadpool” would have been the first comic book movie to crash the best picture race. But sadly, “Deadpool” got shut out of the Oscars race completely, ending up with fewer nominations than “Suicide Squad” (best makeup) and “Doctor Strange” (visual effects).

SNUB: Amy Adams, “Arrival” The five-time Oscar nominee was left out of the best actress category, even though “Arrival” scored eight nominations overall, including best picture, director (Denis Villeneuve) and adapted screenplay. It’s possible that Adams, who also had a lead role in “Nocturnal Animals,” divided her own vote, allowing for Isabelle Huppert (“Elle”) and Ruth Negga (“Loving”) to zoom past her.

SNUB: Annette Bening, “20th Century Women” It wasn’t a great year for the Beatty-Bening household. Warren’s “Rules Don’t Apply” wilted at the box office, and Bening, who was thought to be a lock in the best actress race early in the season, got pushed out of this year’s unusually competitive category for her portrait of an eccentric single mom.

SNUB: Tom Hanks, “Sully” It’s one of the strange mysteries of the Oscars that Hanks, who has two wins but hasn’t been nominated in 16 years (since “Cast Away”), wasn’t included among the acting nominees for playing “Miracle on the Hudson” hero Sully Sullenberger. The movie was a box-office hit, and director Clint Eastwood is usually an Academy Awards darling.

SNUB: Hugh Grant, “Florence Foster Jenkins” Many predicted that Grant would earn his first Oscar nomination ever for playing the husband of a terrible opera warbler. But the Paramount comedy was less of an Oscar movie than a showcase for Meryl Streep.

SNUB: Aaron Taylor-Johnson, “Nocturnal Animals” Winning the Golden Globe for best supporting actor for playing a rogue bad guy gave Taylor-Johnson a boost just as ballots were being filled out. Yet Oscar voters preferred his co-star Michael Shannon, who portrays a no-nonsense sheriff in the Tom Ford thriller.

SNUB: Martin Scorsese, “Silence” Scorsese has been nominated for best director eight times, but Oscar voters were indifferent to “Silence.” The drama about Jesuit priests in Japan  received only a lone nod for best cinematography.

SNUB: “Finding Dory” In 2004, “Finding Nemo” became the first Pixar movie to win an Oscar for best animated feature. Its sequel, “Finding Dory,” was overlooked in favor of other Disney favorites (“Zootopia” and “Moana”).

SNUB: “Weiner” The Sundance documentary about Anthony Weiner’s failed New York mayoral race was a favorite all year long. Then came the election. Weiner’s role in possibly spoiling the presidency for Hillary Clinton may have alienated voters from celebrating a movie about his downfall.

SURPRISE: Ruth Negga, “Loving” At last year’s Cannes Film Festival, Negga was crowned an instant Oscar contender, for her nuanced performance as half of an interracial couple behind an influential 1967 Supreme Court Case. But the competitiveness of the best actress category — with the likes of Annette Bening and Amy Adams — made her more of a longshot on pundits’ list as the season progressed.

SURPRISE: Michael Shannon, “Nocturnal Animals” After a strong reception at Toronto, “Nocturnal Animals” faded from the awards conversation. But when the movie re-emerged at the Golden Globes, it was in the form of a win for Aaron Taylor-Johnson. So that Shannon ended up squeaking into the best-supporting actor race is a surprise. This marks his second Oscar nomination, after 2008’s “Revolutionary Road.”

SURPRISE: Mel Gibson, “Hacksaw Ridge” Gibson’s comeback story is now official, given that the “Braveheart” winner is back in the best director race for his World War II drama.

Best picture: “Arrival” “Fences” “Hacksaw Ridge” “Hell or High Water” “Hidden Figures” “La La Land” “Lion” “Manchester by the Sea” “Moonlight”

Lead actor: Casey Affleck, “Manchester by the Sea” Andrew Garfield, “Hacksaw Ridge” Ryan Gosling, “La La Land,” Viggo Mortensen, “Captain Fantastic” Denzel Washington, “Fences”

Lead actress: Isabelle Huppert, “Elle” Ruth Negga, “Loving” Natalie Portman, “Jackie” Emma Stone, “La La Land” Meryl Streep, “Florence Foster Jenkins”

Supporting actor: Mahershala Ali, “Moonlight” Jeff Bridges, “Hell or High Water” Lucas Hedges, “Manchester by the Sea” Dev Patel, “Lion” Michael Shannon, “Nocturnal Animals”

Supporting actress: Viola Davis, “Fences” Naomie Harris, “Moonlight” Nicole Kidman, “Lion” Octavia Spencer, “Hidden Figures” Michelle Williams, “Manchester by the Sea”

Best director: “La La Land,” Damien Chazelle “Hacksaw Ridge,” Mel Gibson “Moonlight,” Barry Jenkins “Manchester by the Sea,” Kenneth Lonergan “Arrival,” Denis Villeneuve

Animated feature: “Kubo and the Two Strings,” Travis Knight and Arianne Sutner “Moana,” John Musker, Ron Clements and Osnat Shurer “My Life as a Zucchini,” Claude Barras and Max Karli “The Red Turtle,” Michael Dudok de Wit and Toshio Suzuki “Zootopia,” Byron Howard, Rich Moore and Clark Spencer

Animated short: “Blind Vaysha,” Theodore Ushev “Borrowed Time,” Andrew Coats and Lou Hamou-Lhadj “Pear Cider and Cigarettes,” Robert Valley and Cara Speller “Pearl,” Patrick Osborne “Piper,” Alan Barillaro and Marc Sondheimer

Adapted screenplay: “Arrival,” Eric Heisserer “Fences,” August Wilson “Hidden Figures,” Allison Schroeder and Theodore Melfi “Lion,” Luke Davies “Moonlight,” Barry Jenkins; Story by Tarell Alvin McCraney

Original screenplay: “20th Century Women,” Mike Mills “Hell or High Water,” Taylor Sheridan “La La Land,” Damien Chazelle “The Lobster,” Yorgos Lanthimos, Efthimis Filippou “Manchester by the Sea,” Kenneth Lonergan

Cinematography: “Arrival,” Bradford Young “La La Land,” Linus Sandgren “Lion,” Greig Fraser “Moonlight,” James Laxton “Silence,” Rodrigo Prieto

Best documentary feature: “13th,” Ava DuVernay, Spencer Averick and Howard Barish “Fire at Sea,” Gianfranco Rosi and Donatella Palermo “I Am Not Your Negro,” Raoul Peck, Remi Grellety and Hebert Peck “Life, Animated,” Roger Ross Williams and Julie Goldman “O.J.: Made in America,” Ezra Edelman and Caroline Waterlow

Best documentary short subject: “4.1 Miles,” Daphne Matziaraki “Extremis,” Dan Krauss “Joe’s Violin,” Kahane Cooperman and Raphaela Neihausen “Watani: My Homeland,” Marcel Mettelsiefen and Stephen Ellis “The White Helmets,” Orlando von Einsiedel and Joanna Natasegara

Best live action short film: “Ennemis Interieurs,” Selim Azzazi “La Femme et le TGV,” Timo von Gunten and Giacun Caduff “Silent Nights,” Aske Bang and Kim Magnusson “Sing,” Kristof Deak and Anna Udvardy “Timecode,” Juanjo Gimenez

Best foreign language film: “A Man Called Ove,” Sweden “Land of Mine,” Denmark “Tanna,” Australia “The Salesman,” Iran “Toni Erdmann,” Germany

Film editing: “Arrival,” Joe Walker “Hacksaw Ridge,” John Gilbert “Hell or High Water,” Jake Roberts “La La Land,” Tom Cross “Moonlight,” Nat Sanders and Joi McMillon

Sound editing: “Arrival,” Sylvain Bellemare “Deep Water Horizon,” Wylie Stateman and Renee Tondelli “Hacksaw Ridge,” Robert Mackenzie and Andy Wright “La La Land,” Ai-Ling Lee and Mildred Iatrou Morgan “Sully,” Alan Robert Murray and Bub Asman

Sound mixing: “Arrival,” Bernard Gariepy Strobl and Claude La Haye “Hacksaw Ridge,” Kevin O’Connell, Andy Wright, Robert Mackenzie and Peter Grace “La La Land,” Andy Nelson, Ai-Ling Lee and Steve A. Morrow “Rogue One: A Star Wars Story,” David Parker, Christopher Scarabosio and Stuart Wilson “13 Hours: The Secret Soldiers of Benghazi,” Greg P. Russell, Gary Summers, Jeffrey J. Haboush and Mac Ruth

Production design: “Arrival,” Patrice Vermette, Paul Hotte “Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,” Stuart Craig, Anna Pinnock “Hail, Caesar!,” Jess Gonchor, Nancy Haigh “La La Land,” David Wasco, Sandy Reynolds-Wasco “Passengers,” Guy Hendrix Dyas, Gene Serdena

Original score: “Jackie,” Mica Levi “La La Land,” Justin Hurwitz “Lion,” Dustin O’Halloran and Hauschka “Moonlight,” Nicholas Britell “Passengers,” Thomas Newman

Original song: “Audition (The Fools Who Dream),” “La La Land” — Music by Justin Hurwitz; Lyric by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul “Can’t Stop the Feeling,” “Trolls” — Music and Lyric by Justin Timberlake, Max Martin and Karl Johan Schuster “City of Stars,” “La La Land” — Music by Justin Hurwitz; Lyric by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul “The Empty Chair,” “Jim: The James Foley Story” — Music and Lyric by J. Ralph and Sting “How Far I’ll Go,” “Moana” — Music and Lyric by Lin-Manuel Miranda

Makeup and hair: “A Man Called Ove,” Eva von Bahr and Love Larson “Star Trek Beyond,” Joel Harlow and Richard Alonzo “Suicide Squad,” Alessandro Bertolazzi, Giorgio Gregorini and Christopher Nelson

Costume design: “Allied,” Joanna Johnston “Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,” Colleen Atwood “Florence Foster Jenkins,” Consolata Boyle “Jackie,” Madeline Fontaine “La La Land,” Mary Zophres

Visual effects: “Deepwater Horizon,” Craig Hammack, Jason Snell, Jason Billington and Burt Dalton “Doctor Strange,” Stephane Ceretti, Richard Bluff, Vincent Cirelli and Paul Corbould “The Jungle Book,” Robert Legato, Adam Valdez, Andrew R. Jones and Dan Lemmon “Kubo and the Two Strings,” Steve Emerson, Oliver Jones, Brian McLean and Brad Schiff “Rogue One: A Star Wars Story,” John Knoll, Mohen Leo, Hal Hickel and Neil Corbould

Movie TV Tech Geeks News

[flawedwrites]

HENDRIX GRANT &. CLARA DE LA CRUZ [ you’re my queen ] + a starter for @katesqecko​

         Deciding that him and Clara hadn’t gone on a date night for awhile, Hendrix had planned on doing something cute and fun for their six month anniversary. He had firstly, rented a horse drawn carriage that would take them to the park nearby that was having a fair and then from there he was going to spoil her that night. Whatever Clara wanted, Hendrix would give to her. 

         As he saw her coming up to him, Hendrix got out of the carriage and rushed over to hr so that he could give her his arm. “Clara, hey.” He said and smiled up at her. “You look beautiful. Are you ready for a horse drawn carriage that’’s fit for a queen like you?” Hendrix asked and winked at his girlfriend. “I have a whole bunch of things planned tonight. I hope you wore your walking shoes.”

[hottytoddynews]

Liam Hendrix Heath’s “Nation Down” won the Artist Vodka competition and will be one of the featured films at this year’s festival.

Heading into its 15th year, the Oxford Film Festival (OFF) has launched a crowdfunding campaign to raise the final amount of money needed for the 2018 event, which runs Feb. 7-11.

The campaign launched December 1, and is open to all those willing and able to donate to the OFF.

There will be several levels of donations and incentives that provide a wide range of opportunities to become more involved with Oxford Film Festival. Donation categories range from $15 to $500, with perks to match at each level.

For a $15 birthday donation, you receive an Oxford Film Festival birthday card on the OFF Facebook wall, a special thank-you on the screen at the festival itself, and a thank-you on the OFF website. At the $30 level, donors receive the same perks in addition to 15 percent off any ticket or pass at the festival.

The $45 level grants the same perks as the $15 and $30 levels, plus 25 percent off any ticket or pass for the festival.

The perks get even better at the $75 level, at which you will receive a five-pack ticket to the Oxford Film Festival and can enjoy five free movies, along with a birthday e-card, screening thanks, and thanks on the OFF website.

At the $120 level, you will get 10 film tickets to use for yourself or to share for a fun night at the festival. A weekend pass comes with the $135 donation level, and at the $250 level you become a sponsor of the festival with a VIP pass and much more.

The $500 level tops the charts with excitement, as it provides 2 VIP passes, a 2018 festival shirt, a 25 percent discount for any ticketed festival events, as well as special thanks on the OFF site.

The full 2018 festival schedule and ticket purchases will go live online in January 2018, but the best way to currently support OFF is through the crowdfunding campaign, said OFF Executive Director Melanie Addington. Donations will help raise the final funds needed to make the festival possible.

Special to HottyToddy.com.

The post Oxford Film Festival Launches Crowdfunding Campaign appeared first on HottyToddy.com.