Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Saturday, December 18, 2010
More Martians
The Jazz Bus: More Martians
While watching television the other night with my bride and our youngest cub a movie preview came across the screen, one about aliens from outer space. Engaging in a conversation we first directed our attention to the vernacular of the word “alien” and how we now need to be truly “P.C.” by adding “from outer space” when using the word. Secondly, we had a laugh about my Venusians experiences recently. Well actually only I had a laugh, Lil Pup just shook his head as the Chief Venusian was listening to us and cautiously watching his reaction.
But then Lil’ Cub who is a movie bug further the conversation by suggesting Hollywood and Sci-Fi writers mostly display aliens “from outer space” as creatures unlike us, ones usually much, much bigger in size. Some have tentacles, others six arms, and most possess supernatural powers of some kind. He suggested, “What if aliens are already here, years ago, at creation maybe, and are so miniscule we never, ever see them or even know they are here? Just keeping records on humans and reporting back, or controlling what we do, sort of like using us as their toys.” WHAT? Flashback time, I ask him if he ever read THE MIND PARASITES by Colon Wilson. He said “only if it was a required book”, which I knew it was not. Stupid me. But it got me thinking.
Early 1970’s, my last semester of college I took what I thought was a basket weaving course called “Sci-Fi as Literature”. The professor was a known freak of the English Department who regularly chain smoked her student’ cigarettes. The syllabus was a listing of 100 novels broken down into 20 categories (5 books per), of which you were expected to read a total of 20, one per category. Every few classes she would intro a new category and you were expected to verbally participate or submit a 10 page double spaced paper. By the second week the class was basically empty, most opted out. Just a few stayed. As I needed another English credit I remained.
As the weeks went by the group became more and more enthusiastic in their discussions. Professor just sat atop her desk, nodding her head while lighting up a smoke. Toward the end of the semester she suggested we all read one more book, THE MIND PARASITES, and if the discussion was as exciting as she thought it would be, there would be NO FINAL EXAM. Done, we all bought the book. Probably, one of the best suggestions Professor Owen had.
Imagine an archeologist discovering invisible mind parasites that only “menace the brilliant people” on earth, Never to bother with the lazy, because they considered worthless in society. The only weapon against these murderous parasites is to push your mind to its limits, thereby destroying them in your brain. However, they are always present and only attack when you sense they are in your brain. If you even remotely think about them they multiple rapidly neutralizing brain cells. Both my bride and cub acknowledged that the Mind Parasites will never bother me. jazzbus@gmail.com
While watching television the other night with my bride and our youngest cub a movie preview came across the screen, one about aliens from outer space. Engaging in a conversation we first directed our attention to the vernacular of the word “alien” and how we now need to be truly “P.C.” by adding “from outer space” when using the word. Secondly, we had a laugh about my Venusians experiences recently. Well actually only I had a laugh, Lil Pup just shook his head as the Chief Venusian was listening to us and cautiously watching his reaction.
But then Lil’ Cub who is a movie bug further the conversation by suggesting Hollywood and Sci-Fi writers mostly display aliens “from outer space” as creatures unlike us, ones usually much, much bigger in size. Some have tentacles, others six arms, and most possess supernatural powers of some kind. He suggested, “What if aliens are already here, years ago, at creation maybe, and are so miniscule we never, ever see them or even know they are here? Just keeping records on humans and reporting back, or controlling what we do, sort of like using us as their toys.” WHAT? Flashback time, I ask him if he ever read THE MIND PARASITES by Colon Wilson. He said “only if it was a required book”, which I knew it was not. Stupid me. But it got me thinking.
Early 1970’s, my last semester of college I took what I thought was a basket weaving course called “Sci-Fi as Literature”. The professor was a known freak of the English Department who regularly chain smoked her student’ cigarettes. The syllabus was a listing of 100 novels broken down into 20 categories (5 books per), of which you were expected to read a total of 20, one per category. Every few classes she would intro a new category and you were expected to verbally participate or submit a 10 page double spaced paper. By the second week the class was basically empty, most opted out. Just a few stayed. As I needed another English credit I remained.
As the weeks went by the group became more and more enthusiastic in their discussions. Professor just sat atop her desk, nodding her head while lighting up a smoke. Toward the end of the semester she suggested we all read one more book, THE MIND PARASITES, and if the discussion was as exciting as she thought it would be, there would be NO FINAL EXAM. Done, we all bought the book. Probably, one of the best suggestions Professor Owen had.
Imagine an archeologist discovering invisible mind parasites that only “menace the brilliant people” on earth, Never to bother with the lazy, because they considered worthless in society. The only weapon against these murderous parasites is to push your mind to its limits, thereby destroying them in your brain. However, they are always present and only attack when you sense they are in your brain. If you even remotely think about them they multiple rapidly neutralizing brain cells. Both my bride and cub acknowledged that the Mind Parasites will never bother me. jazzbus@gmail.com
Today's ARTIST OF THE DAY
Taday's ARTIST OF THE DAY is the Legendary Captain Beefheart who passed away yesterday.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Artist of the Day
Today we are on a quest for THE WORST CHRISTMAS SONG EVER MADE. Give it your best shot but get back to me soon...
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
It's Christmas Time
The Jazz Bus: It’s Christmas Time
I promised myself that this piece will have nothing to do with the spiritual side of Christmas, which is probably a sacrilegious way to look at a religious holiday, but my dear friend Barbara would expect nothing less from me. Rather than exposing what I feel is a commercial approach…oh sorry I promised, I will attempt to have some fun with the musical side of the “holiday season”. Imagine that inner warmth you get when you first hear Nat King Cole’s CHRISTMAS SONG, you know the tune about Chestnuts roasting. When was the last time you had a chestnut? Years ago the song would be played right after the Thanksgiving Day Parade to officially, in song, start the season. This year I heard it played the week after Labor Day.
Alright, my favorite holiday songs. See if you remember these. Bing Crosby WHITE CHRISTMAS, probably the finest version ever made, that crooner could sing. I can almost smell his pipe burning its tobacco. SLEIGH RIDE by a group that started as dancers for Joey Dee’s Peppermint Lounge to later become famous as The Ronettes, and Ronnie still belts it out each Christmas season, LETTERMAN December 15 and live at B.B. King’s December 17th. On my iPod you will find FELIZ NAVIDAD by Jose Feliciano; JINGLE BELL ROCK- Bobby Helm not to be outdone by Brenda Lee’s ROCKIN’ AROUND THE CHRISTMAS TREE followed by The Peanuts Gang (Vince Guaraldi Trio) CHRISTMAS TIME IS HERE, and The King himself- Elvis- deeply belting out BaBaBa BLUE CHRISTMAS. Do you remember Little Jimmy Boyd’s moment where he SAW MOMMY KISSING SANTA CLAUS? a great novelty tune but not one to be found in my collection. I do have standards.
My Pop, while a fan of Bing Crosby did not like the version of LITTLE DRUMMER BOY/PEACE ON EARTH Bing did with David Bowie. Me, I can take it or leave it. But I do love Bob Dylan’s version found on his CHRISTMAS IN THE HEART, which I still can’t figure out if it was done “tongue in cheek”. Not one to enjoy choral selections, I do find the John Lennon and The Harlem Community Choir’s collaboration HAPPY XMAS-THE WAR IS OVER to be unsurpassed as a true theme of its time. And who could leave out THE CHIPMUNK SONG,” let’s not overdue it, Alvin, ALVIN”. Bruce Springsteen recorded SANTA CLAUS IS COMIN’ TO TOWN locally live at C.W. Post many a moon ago; The bells, drums, sax, the ho ho ho’s, a true E-Street highlight.
But my all time favorite is MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM THE FAMILY written by Robert Earl Keen and recorded by many artists over the years. I offer just a taste of the second stanza where he introduces only some of his dysfunctional relatives and you’ll be hooked.
Brother Ken brought his kids with him
The three from his first wife Lynn
And the two identical twins from his second wife Mary Nell
Of course he brought his new wife Kay
Who talks all about AA
Chain smoking while the stereo plays Noel, Noel
The First Noel
Feliz Navidad! From The Griswold’s. jazzbus@gmail.com
I promised myself that this piece will have nothing to do with the spiritual side of Christmas, which is probably a sacrilegious way to look at a religious holiday, but my dear friend Barbara would expect nothing less from me. Rather than exposing what I feel is a commercial approach…oh sorry I promised, I will attempt to have some fun with the musical side of the “holiday season”. Imagine that inner warmth you get when you first hear Nat King Cole’s CHRISTMAS SONG, you know the tune about Chestnuts roasting. When was the last time you had a chestnut? Years ago the song would be played right after the Thanksgiving Day Parade to officially, in song, start the season. This year I heard it played the week after Labor Day.
Alright, my favorite holiday songs. See if you remember these. Bing Crosby WHITE CHRISTMAS, probably the finest version ever made, that crooner could sing. I can almost smell his pipe burning its tobacco. SLEIGH RIDE by a group that started as dancers for Joey Dee’s Peppermint Lounge to later become famous as The Ronettes, and Ronnie still belts it out each Christmas season, LETTERMAN December 15 and live at B.B. King’s December 17th. On my iPod you will find FELIZ NAVIDAD by Jose Feliciano; JINGLE BELL ROCK- Bobby Helm not to be outdone by Brenda Lee’s ROCKIN’ AROUND THE CHRISTMAS TREE followed by The Peanuts Gang (Vince Guaraldi Trio) CHRISTMAS TIME IS HERE, and The King himself- Elvis- deeply belting out BaBaBa BLUE CHRISTMAS. Do you remember Little Jimmy Boyd’s moment where he SAW MOMMY KISSING SANTA CLAUS? a great novelty tune but not one to be found in my collection. I do have standards.
My Pop, while a fan of Bing Crosby did not like the version of LITTLE DRUMMER BOY/PEACE ON EARTH Bing did with David Bowie. Me, I can take it or leave it. But I do love Bob Dylan’s version found on his CHRISTMAS IN THE HEART, which I still can’t figure out if it was done “tongue in cheek”. Not one to enjoy choral selections, I do find the John Lennon and The Harlem Community Choir’s collaboration HAPPY XMAS-THE WAR IS OVER to be unsurpassed as a true theme of its time. And who could leave out THE CHIPMUNK SONG,” let’s not overdue it, Alvin, ALVIN”. Bruce Springsteen recorded SANTA CLAUS IS COMIN’ TO TOWN locally live at C.W. Post many a moon ago; The bells, drums, sax, the ho ho ho’s, a true E-Street highlight.
But my all time favorite is MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM THE FAMILY written by Robert Earl Keen and recorded by many artists over the years. I offer just a taste of the second stanza where he introduces only some of his dysfunctional relatives and you’ll be hooked.
Brother Ken brought his kids with him
The three from his first wife Lynn
And the two identical twins from his second wife Mary Nell
Of course he brought his new wife Kay
Who talks all about AA
Chain smoking while the stereo plays Noel, Noel
The First Noel
Feliz Navidad! From The Griswold’s. jazzbus@gmail.com
It's Christmas Time
The Jazz Bus: It’s Christmas Time
I promised myself that this piece will have nothing to do with the spiritual side of Christmas, which is probably a sacrilegious way to look at a religious holiday, but my dear friend Barbara would expect nothing less from me. Rather than exposing what I feel is a commercial approach…oh sorry I promised, I will attempt to have some fun with the musical side of the “holiday season”. Imagine that inner warmth you get when you first hear Nat King Cole’s CHRISTMAS SONG, you know the tune about Chestnuts roasting. When was the last time you had a chestnut? Years ago the song would be played right after the Thanksgiving Day Parade to officially, in song, start the season. This year I heard it played the week after Labor Day.
Alright, my favorite holiday songs. See if you remember these. Bing Crosby WHITE CHRISTMAS, probably the finest version ever made, that crooner could sing. I can almost smell his pipe burning its tobacco. SLEIGH RIDE by a group that started as dancers for Joey Dee’s Peppermint Lounge to later become famous as The Ronettes, and Ronnie still belts it out each Christmas season, LETTERMAN December 15 and live at B.B. King’s December 17th. On my iPod you will find FELIZ NAVIDAD by Jose Feliciano; JINGLE BELL ROCK- Bobby Helm not to be outdone by Brenda Lee’s ROCKIN’ AROUND THE CHRISTMAS TREE followed by The Peanuts Gang (Vince Guaraldi Trio) CHRISTMAS TIME IS HERE, and The King himself- Elvis- deeply belting out BaBaBa BLUE CHRISTMAS. Do you remember Little Jimmy Boyd’s moment where he SAW MOMMY KISSING SANTA CLAUS? a great novelty tune but not one to be found in my collection. I do have standards.
My Pop, while a fan of Bing Crosby did not like the version of LITTLE DRUMMER BOY/PEACE ON EARTH Bing did with David Bowie. Me, I can take it or leave it. But I do love Bob Dylan’s version found on his CHRISTMAS IN THE HEART, which I still can’t figure out if it was done “tongue in cheek”. Not one to enjoy choral selections, I do find the John Lennon and The Harlem Community Choir’s collaboration HAPPY XMAS-THE WAR IS OVER to be unsurpassed as a true theme of its time. And who could leave out THE CHIPMUNK SONG,” let’s not overdue it, Alvin, ALVIN”. Bruce Springsteen recorded SANTA CLAUS IS COMIN’ TO TOWN locally live at C.W. Post many a moon ago; The bells, drums, sax, the ho ho ho’s, a true E-Street highlight.
But my all time favorite is MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM THE FAMILY written by Robert Earl Keen and recorded by many artists over the years. I offer just a taste of the second stanza where he introduces only some of his dysfunctional relatives and you’ll be hooked.
Brother Ken brought his kids with him
The three from his first wife Lynn
And the two identical twins from his second wife Mary Nell
Of course he brought his new wife Kay
Who talks all about AA
Chain smoking while the stereo plays Noel, Noel
The First Noel
Feliz Navidad! From The Griswold’s. jazzbus@gmail.com
I promised myself that this piece will have nothing to do with the spiritual side of Christmas, which is probably a sacrilegious way to look at a religious holiday, but my dear friend Barbara would expect nothing less from me. Rather than exposing what I feel is a commercial approach…oh sorry I promised, I will attempt to have some fun with the musical side of the “holiday season”. Imagine that inner warmth you get when you first hear Nat King Cole’s CHRISTMAS SONG, you know the tune about Chestnuts roasting. When was the last time you had a chestnut? Years ago the song would be played right after the Thanksgiving Day Parade to officially, in song, start the season. This year I heard it played the week after Labor Day.
Alright, my favorite holiday songs. See if you remember these. Bing Crosby WHITE CHRISTMAS, probably the finest version ever made, that crooner could sing. I can almost smell his pipe burning its tobacco. SLEIGH RIDE by a group that started as dancers for Joey Dee’s Peppermint Lounge to later become famous as The Ronettes, and Ronnie still belts it out each Christmas season, LETTERMAN December 15 and live at B.B. King’s December 17th. On my iPod you will find FELIZ NAVIDAD by Jose Feliciano; JINGLE BELL ROCK- Bobby Helm not to be outdone by Brenda Lee’s ROCKIN’ AROUND THE CHRISTMAS TREE followed by The Peanuts Gang (Vince Guaraldi Trio) CHRISTMAS TIME IS HERE, and The King himself- Elvis- deeply belting out BaBaBa BLUE CHRISTMAS. Do you remember Little Jimmy Boyd’s moment where he SAW MOMMY KISSING SANTA CLAUS? a great novelty tune but not one to be found in my collection. I do have standards.
My Pop, while a fan of Bing Crosby did not like the version of LITTLE DRUMMER BOY/PEACE ON EARTH Bing did with David Bowie. Me, I can take it or leave it. But I do love Bob Dylan’s version found on his CHRISTMAS IN THE HEART, which I still can’t figure out if it was done “tongue in cheek”. Not one to enjoy choral selections, I do find the John Lennon and The Harlem Community Choir’s collaboration HAPPY XMAS-THE WAR IS OVER to be unsurpassed as a true theme of its time. And who could leave out THE CHIPMUNK SONG,” let’s not overdue it, Alvin, ALVIN”. Bruce Springsteen recorded SANTA CLAUS IS COMIN’ TO TOWN locally live at C.W. Post many a moon ago; The bells, drums, sax, the ho ho ho’s, a true E-Street highlight.
But my all time favorite is MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM THE FAMILY written by Robert Earl Keen and recorded by many artists over the years. I offer just a taste of the second stanza where he introduces only some of his dysfunctional relatives and you’ll be hooked.
Brother Ken brought his kids with him
The three from his first wife Lynn
And the two identical twins from his second wife Mary Nell
Of course he brought his new wife Kay
Who talks all about AA
Chain smoking while the stereo plays Noel, Noel
The First Noel
Feliz Navidad! From The Griswold’s. jazzbus@gmail.com
Friday, December 10, 2010
Today's ARTIST OF THE DAY : Debuts
A bit of a change in the group this week as we shied away from one particular artist, instrument or genre. Today's challenge is to NAME YOUR TOP 3(Rock)DEBUT ALBUMS. Have fun.Mine?
MUSIC FROM BIG PINK- The Band
MY AIM IS TRUE- Elvis Costello
LED ZEPPELIN-Led Zeppelin.
Oh, I am sure you disagree...so tell me.
MUSIC FROM BIG PINK- The Band
MY AIM IS TRUE- Elvis Costello
LED ZEPPELIN-Led Zeppelin.
Oh, I am sure you disagree...so tell me.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Today's ARTIST OF THE DAY John Lennon
It was thirty years ago today... On this Day of Remembrance...JOHN LENNON
Just Like Starting Over
Imagine
Happy X-mas, The War Is Over
Just Like Starting Over
Imagine
Happy X-mas, The War Is Over
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Taking The Dog To The Vet
The Jazz Bus: Taking the Dog to the Vet
How much? That is more than I paid for the delivery and hospital care for my first child. Why do we do this? We become so attached to our pets. Mine is not even a good watchdog. She will bark when you approach the front door but only as a warning that she might lick you to death or break your ankle from the viciousness of her tail wagging against your leg. Holding packages always makes entering the house an adventure as she assumes everything is a gift for her. She’ll wake you up early when she is ready to start her day and let you know immediately when the pangs of hunger hit. Try changing her food to a cheaper brand and she won’t come when called.
Almost 8 years old she has most recently developed a tumor on her underside, a non-threatening “pendulous mass” as the vet calls it. My pup weights just shy of 100 pounds and the hanging mass is quite visible due to its immense size. Having shown no severe swings in her weight the vet said surgery should be routine and non-eventful. So we are getting it done.
We dropped her off at 9 am as required, with no food or water from 10 the previous evening. My dog, when she takes care of her morning ritual, expects some treats. Her look of disappointment today almost broke my heart. Then out came her special red chain, a symbol for a ride in the car. Running around like Brandon Jacobs she got in her seat, and off we headed, to surgery.
The bride and I patiently waited until 3pm to call. Two rings, three rings, WHAT IS WRONG? Finally, ah, only 3 rings, the technician said surgery was successful and we could pick her up at 4:30. Only a short drive and no cars in the lot we were greeted by a receptionist who knew who we were. Funny how they refer to you as a pet’s parents ,but yes we were, proudly I might add. Dr. Glen Roiland, Amityville Animal Hospital’s very fine Veterinarian, greeted us, explained the extent of the surgery and the concern he had during it and for any aftercare while assuring us everything would be alright. He actually kissed my dog when he turned her over to us. He even helped me in the pouring rain get her big drugged out body in the car, which at 100 pounds is no easy task. But it wasn’t over, for me.
Dinner was hand fed by my bride, the dog’s “mother”. Medicine administered the same way. Then we blocked off the kitchen with gates to, added a few throw rugs so she could walk comfortably and safely, and placed her bed near the heater. As she was still bleeding a bit we stayed with her throughout the evening, gathering around the kitchen table watching a small screen TV. Now, the big decision, who was going to sleep by her as she could not make it up the stairs to the second floor where she traditionally snores away the night. Daddy’s turn.
One long night on the couch not far from her, listening to her moan and cry until 4 am, when after a short walk in the rain, she returned to her bed and nodded off. Wish I could have. Instead I wrote this piece. Thank goodness it’s over and she’s okay.jazzbus@gmail.com
How much? That is more than I paid for the delivery and hospital care for my first child. Why do we do this? We become so attached to our pets. Mine is not even a good watchdog. She will bark when you approach the front door but only as a warning that she might lick you to death or break your ankle from the viciousness of her tail wagging against your leg. Holding packages always makes entering the house an adventure as she assumes everything is a gift for her. She’ll wake you up early when she is ready to start her day and let you know immediately when the pangs of hunger hit. Try changing her food to a cheaper brand and she won’t come when called.
Almost 8 years old she has most recently developed a tumor on her underside, a non-threatening “pendulous mass” as the vet calls it. My pup weights just shy of 100 pounds and the hanging mass is quite visible due to its immense size. Having shown no severe swings in her weight the vet said surgery should be routine and non-eventful. So we are getting it done.
We dropped her off at 9 am as required, with no food or water from 10 the previous evening. My dog, when she takes care of her morning ritual, expects some treats. Her look of disappointment today almost broke my heart. Then out came her special red chain, a symbol for a ride in the car. Running around like Brandon Jacobs she got in her seat, and off we headed, to surgery.
The bride and I patiently waited until 3pm to call. Two rings, three rings, WHAT IS WRONG? Finally, ah, only 3 rings, the technician said surgery was successful and we could pick her up at 4:30. Only a short drive and no cars in the lot we were greeted by a receptionist who knew who we were. Funny how they refer to you as a pet’s parents ,but yes we were, proudly I might add. Dr. Glen Roiland, Amityville Animal Hospital’s very fine Veterinarian, greeted us, explained the extent of the surgery and the concern he had during it and for any aftercare while assuring us everything would be alright. He actually kissed my dog when he turned her over to us. He even helped me in the pouring rain get her big drugged out body in the car, which at 100 pounds is no easy task. But it wasn’t over, for me.
Dinner was hand fed by my bride, the dog’s “mother”. Medicine administered the same way. Then we blocked off the kitchen with gates to, added a few throw rugs so she could walk comfortably and safely, and placed her bed near the heater. As she was still bleeding a bit we stayed with her throughout the evening, gathering around the kitchen table watching a small screen TV. Now, the big decision, who was going to sleep by her as she could not make it up the stairs to the second floor where she traditionally snores away the night. Daddy’s turn.
One long night on the couch not far from her, listening to her moan and cry until 4 am, when after a short walk in the rain, she returned to her bed and nodded off. Wish I could have. Instead I wrote this piece. Thank goodness it’s over and she’s okay.jazzbus@gmail.com
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Artist of the Day
I belong to a small circle of music nuts who when called upon are to name their 3 favorite tunes by an artist as suggested by one of the members of the group. This round robin started a few weeks ago and has developed into a nice friendly routine, many times with guys remembering bits of trivia. More than once a song has been attached to the e-mail responses, as a gentle way to sway you.British Invasion bands, American rock and roll solo artists as well as groups have been thrown at you. Rascals, Beach Boys, Dion, Ricky Nelson,The Zombies,songs with sitars, cowbell songs, you get the idea.
Today's is: THE PLATTERS and my choices are: ONLY YOU(And you alone),The GREAT PRETENDER, and THE MAGIC TOUCH. Any other suggestions?
Today's is: THE PLATTERS and my choices are: ONLY YOU(And you alone),The GREAT PRETENDER, and THE MAGIC TOUCH. Any other suggestions?
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Another One For Woody (Various Artists) - 11/22/10 Roseland Ballroom, New York, NY
| Another One For Woody (Various Artists) 11/22/10 Roseland Ballroom, New York, NY Click below to preview tracks from this show DOWNLOAD THIS SHOW |
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Tunes: This weeks favorites
The Jazz Bus: Listening to Tunes
What has been on my �turntable� as of late?
Richard Thompson DREAM ATTIC
John McLaughlin TO THE ONE
The Derek Trucks Band ROAD SONGS
The Black Crowes CROWEOLOGY
Brian Wilson REIMAGINES GERSHWIN
Jeff Beck EMOTION and COMMOTION
What has been on my �turntable� as of late?
Richard Thompson DREAM ATTIC
John McLaughlin TO THE ONE
The Derek Trucks Band ROAD SONGS
The Black Crowes CROWEOLOGY
Brian Wilson REIMAGINES GERSHWIN
Jeff Beck EMOTION and COMMOTION
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Martians V. Venusians
The Jazz Bus: Martians V. Venusians
Men are from Mars, women from Venus…so true. One night my lovely bride suggested, strongly I might add ,that it was time to start our holiday shopping. My heart be still. Since it was not even Thanksgiving I knew Kohl’s must be having their annual 30% off and Kohl’s cash back sale. Up early in the morning, breakfast done, the dog walked, her credit card warmed up and with a few dollars in my pocket away we go. Not exactly remembering where this store was I misjudged it by a few streets. If she said we were going to the long defunct Mays, I would have known exactly where to turn. Shopping and store locations are not strong suites for me.
Finally arriving I find the parking lot is quite full. Entering the doorway I noticed the long lines already at the registers. I contemplated suggesting that I should leave, get a cup of coffee, and return in a month or so when the crowds might be gone, but thought better of the damage that statement might have caused. The bride was bubbling, ecstatic about all the shoppers which she equated to a boom in the economy. While knowing she was correct in her economic projections, I was scanning the place for possible escape routes.
Resigned to the fact that I promised “to be good”, I started searching for some “me items”. After only two minutes in the Men’s Department my “me” shopping was ended as we were on our way to Kids, Infants, Ladies, Misses, Teens, Shoes, Toys, Bed and Bath, Kitchen Wares; whew, I was tired and my arms hurt from caring all our “savings”. We never fully explored the first floor, except to enter, pay and leave. Knowing that Venusians are smarted then Martians I sensed a return trip was in order to explore the first floor “savings” and to spend the Kohl’s Cash we were rewarded upon paying for today’s “savings”.
During this shopping expedition I noticed that there were only a few other Martians but plenty of Venusians. Most Venusians traveled in pairs, or groups of 3 or 4. The Martians I saw had eyes lowered to the ground and were more like mules carrying the handiwork of the Venusians. What made it more curious was that many, many Venusians could multi-task, and mostly you could hear what they were thinking. One was looking at a clothing rack, contemplating the 30% discount plus the 15% additional saving for using her credit card while speaking aloud about Thanksgiving arrangements, who would be there and what size Little Johnnie was and did he like Toy Store 3. At first I just thought it was a crazy person, ranting to no one in particular. I searched for her cell phone in her hand but saw none as she was shopping two handed. Finally, I noticed what appeared to be a miniature ear piece and knew she was speaking to the mother ship. I hope they beam her up soon, or better yet, me. Martians, we don’t usually contact each other in that manner, a head nod with lowered eyes will do.jazzbus@gmail.com
Men are from Mars, women from Venus…so true. One night my lovely bride suggested, strongly I might add ,that it was time to start our holiday shopping. My heart be still. Since it was not even Thanksgiving I knew Kohl’s must be having their annual 30% off and Kohl’s cash back sale. Up early in the morning, breakfast done, the dog walked, her credit card warmed up and with a few dollars in my pocket away we go. Not exactly remembering where this store was I misjudged it by a few streets. If she said we were going to the long defunct Mays, I would have known exactly where to turn. Shopping and store locations are not strong suites for me.
Finally arriving I find the parking lot is quite full. Entering the doorway I noticed the long lines already at the registers. I contemplated suggesting that I should leave, get a cup of coffee, and return in a month or so when the crowds might be gone, but thought better of the damage that statement might have caused. The bride was bubbling, ecstatic about all the shoppers which she equated to a boom in the economy. While knowing she was correct in her economic projections, I was scanning the place for possible escape routes.
Resigned to the fact that I promised “to be good”, I started searching for some “me items”. After only two minutes in the Men’s Department my “me” shopping was ended as we were on our way to Kids, Infants, Ladies, Misses, Teens, Shoes, Toys, Bed and Bath, Kitchen Wares; whew, I was tired and my arms hurt from caring all our “savings”. We never fully explored the first floor, except to enter, pay and leave. Knowing that Venusians are smarted then Martians I sensed a return trip was in order to explore the first floor “savings” and to spend the Kohl’s Cash we were rewarded upon paying for today’s “savings”.
During this shopping expedition I noticed that there were only a few other Martians but plenty of Venusians. Most Venusians traveled in pairs, or groups of 3 or 4. The Martians I saw had eyes lowered to the ground and were more like mules carrying the handiwork of the Venusians. What made it more curious was that many, many Venusians could multi-task, and mostly you could hear what they were thinking. One was looking at a clothing rack, contemplating the 30% discount plus the 15% additional saving for using her credit card while speaking aloud about Thanksgiving arrangements, who would be there and what size Little Johnnie was and did he like Toy Store 3. At first I just thought it was a crazy person, ranting to no one in particular. I searched for her cell phone in her hand but saw none as she was shopping two handed. Finally, I noticed what appeared to be a miniature ear piece and knew she was speaking to the mother ship. I hope they beam her up soon, or better yet, me. Martians, we don’t usually contact each other in that manner, a head nod with lowered eyes will do.jazzbus@gmail.com
Friday, November 26, 2010
The Book I Read
The Jazz Bus: The Book I Read…
One of all time favorite albums is Talking Heads: 77. Prior to its major label vinyl release I had watched the band perform at a few venues in Manhattan, purchased a few of their indie singles, and waited patiently for the official release date of their first major label release. Bingo got it day one. Listened to it constantly and it became one of my first CD purchases when I hit that techno phase, Jimi Hendrix RADIO ONE being the other that day. This piece has nothing to do with T Heads, except stealing a song title, THE BOOK I READ.
The other day a minor story in the newspaper was written about high school seniors who are currently reading below levels established in 1992; a poor 288 points out of 500 in reading comprehension. While this is slightly above last year’s average it is still…wait a minute here, a reading test. Remembering back to my days in school the last thing I cared about was a test “that did not count”. Pretty diagrams I made out of the scantrons sheet blanks, always choosing “all of the above”, while never opting for “none of the above”. I didn’t care about having a correct answer. Why did these educators waste my time with a stupid test that doesn’t count for me? The questions should be “What did Johnny learn today and does he read on his own?”
Standardized testing must be a killer for our kids. Every year in elementary school another test that does not count for graduation, then Regents in high school, which is a bit more serious, then SAT/ACT, test, test, test. But, what does this test really evaluate?
During high school I was “required” to read a book, GIANTS IN THE EARTH by O.E.Rolvaag. I was and still am an avid reader but have maintained a personal philosophy of when reading a book if it is going nowhere for me, use it as kindling wood in the fireplace. GIANTS was going nowhere for me, seemed to be a long drawn-out reworking of The STORY of JOB except this family was ever so slowly moving through the Dakota prairie. I voiced my opinion in class and was subsequently called to task by the teacher who phoned my dad for a “meeting”. While I was trying to negotiate an agreement where I would read three other books but not GIANTS, the teacher firmly said “no, that one or nothing. You’ll need that one on the Regents.” At our “meeting” I reiterated my dislike of “the classic” but no one, including Pop budged. I calmly said, “I’ll take the zero now”, which I got. GIANTS never came up on the Regents but in my essays I did use references to other books I read which were not “required” reading .I passed the Regents with flying colors, while not faring so well on the course grade. However, then as opposed to now, you got the higher grade listed on “your permanent record”.
My point is simple, have kids read because they want to. jazzbus@gmail.com
One of all time favorite albums is Talking Heads: 77. Prior to its major label vinyl release I had watched the band perform at a few venues in Manhattan, purchased a few of their indie singles, and waited patiently for the official release date of their first major label release. Bingo got it day one. Listened to it constantly and it became one of my first CD purchases when I hit that techno phase, Jimi Hendrix RADIO ONE being the other that day. This piece has nothing to do with T Heads, except stealing a song title, THE BOOK I READ.
The other day a minor story in the newspaper was written about high school seniors who are currently reading below levels established in 1992; a poor 288 points out of 500 in reading comprehension. While this is slightly above last year’s average it is still…wait a minute here, a reading test. Remembering back to my days in school the last thing I cared about was a test “that did not count”. Pretty diagrams I made out of the scantrons sheet blanks, always choosing “all of the above”, while never opting for “none of the above”. I didn’t care about having a correct answer. Why did these educators waste my time with a stupid test that doesn’t count for me? The questions should be “What did Johnny learn today and does he read on his own?”
Standardized testing must be a killer for our kids. Every year in elementary school another test that does not count for graduation, then Regents in high school, which is a bit more serious, then SAT/ACT, test, test, test. But, what does this test really evaluate?
During high school I was “required” to read a book, GIANTS IN THE EARTH by O.E.Rolvaag. I was and still am an avid reader but have maintained a personal philosophy of when reading a book if it is going nowhere for me, use it as kindling wood in the fireplace. GIANTS was going nowhere for me, seemed to be a long drawn-out reworking of The STORY of JOB except this family was ever so slowly moving through the Dakota prairie. I voiced my opinion in class and was subsequently called to task by the teacher who phoned my dad for a “meeting”. While I was trying to negotiate an agreement where I would read three other books but not GIANTS, the teacher firmly said “no, that one or nothing. You’ll need that one on the Regents.” At our “meeting” I reiterated my dislike of “the classic” but no one, including Pop budged. I calmly said, “I’ll take the zero now”, which I got. GIANTS never came up on the Regents but in my essays I did use references to other books I read which were not “required” reading .I passed the Regents with flying colors, while not faring so well on the course grade. However, then as opposed to now, you got the higher grade listed on “your permanent record”.
My point is simple, have kids read because they want to. jazzbus@gmail.com
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
John McLaughlin in New York City
The Jazz Bus: John McLaughlin in NYC
Sticking with as one reader suggested “what you know” and staying away from a political slant I hit the road again last weekend, heading west to the greatest metropolis in the world, New York City. Taking the Iron Horse into Penn Station, my friends and I headed to a favorite watering hole to rustle up some chow, and a few “diet cokes” before entering “Town Hall”, an intimate historical spot in NYC, which for the past 80 plus years has served as a cultural center for the performing arts. Originally built to house a “vibrant group of suffragists”, the hall officially opened to the public on January 12, 1921, after the 19th Amendment had been passed. Having in its design no box seats as to best “reflect the democratic principles” of its founders, the stage has been graced over the years by the presence of such artists as Edna St. Vincent Millay in her first performance as well as the debut of Marian Anderson, Joan Baez, Bob Dylan, Cissey Houston, Carole King, and Woody Allen to name a few.
Our show was John McLaughlin, guitarist extraordinaire and his band. It’s been many a moon since his days with Miles Davis or the original Mahavishnu Orchestra, but since his latest release is a tribute to John Coltrane’s (my all-time favorite) influence on McLaughlin I felt it might be time to reacquaint myself with his music. With the seats being reasonably cheap I encouraged my two music compatriots to join me because as we say “this is what we do”. Remembering McLaughlin is an acquired taste I cautioned them, this could be very strange.
A beautiful fall evening in Manhattan, night fall, thousands crowding the streets from Penn to Times Square, yet eeriness was afoot. Many armed soldiers were patrolling the LIRR area and the streets outside of MSG. Down 7th Avenue, a few NYPD cars were noticed. The pedestrian mall once known as Times Square also had an armed presence.
The two hour show was quite enjoyable as McLaughlin led his band through his catalogue while emulating Coltrane’s sax runs. Outside as we walked back to Penn there were NYFD trucks, lights flashing, and firemen walking about with equipment, hoses, and radios blaring. Siren sounded in the distance. Walking on Sixth Avenue, just turning the corner to the Garden, seven NYPD patrol cars in succession, sirens blasting, sped by us toward Fifth. Strange night indeed.
One of my buddies had NY Giants tickets for that Sunday. The previous evening of noticing all the emergency services in the area did not truly register with me until the lights and TV feed went out in Giants Stadium that evening. He said inside was a bit chaotic, especially when cell phone service was non-existent during “the power outage”. Speaking to the other third of our trio on Monday he said something that totally alarmed me, “I always felt safe in NYC, but the other night (Saturday) was a bit surreal, and when the lights went out at the game I feared the worse”. Strange indeed. jazzbus@gmail.com
Sticking with as one reader suggested “what you know” and staying away from a political slant I hit the road again last weekend, heading west to the greatest metropolis in the world, New York City. Taking the Iron Horse into Penn Station, my friends and I headed to a favorite watering hole to rustle up some chow, and a few “diet cokes” before entering “Town Hall”, an intimate historical spot in NYC, which for the past 80 plus years has served as a cultural center for the performing arts. Originally built to house a “vibrant group of suffragists”, the hall officially opened to the public on January 12, 1921, after the 19th Amendment had been passed. Having in its design no box seats as to best “reflect the democratic principles” of its founders, the stage has been graced over the years by the presence of such artists as Edna St. Vincent Millay in her first performance as well as the debut of Marian Anderson, Joan Baez, Bob Dylan, Cissey Houston, Carole King, and Woody Allen to name a few.
Our show was John McLaughlin, guitarist extraordinaire and his band. It’s been many a moon since his days with Miles Davis or the original Mahavishnu Orchestra, but since his latest release is a tribute to John Coltrane’s (my all-time favorite) influence on McLaughlin I felt it might be time to reacquaint myself with his music. With the seats being reasonably cheap I encouraged my two music compatriots to join me because as we say “this is what we do”. Remembering McLaughlin is an acquired taste I cautioned them, this could be very strange.
A beautiful fall evening in Manhattan, night fall, thousands crowding the streets from Penn to Times Square, yet eeriness was afoot. Many armed soldiers were patrolling the LIRR area and the streets outside of MSG. Down 7th Avenue, a few NYPD cars were noticed. The pedestrian mall once known as Times Square also had an armed presence.
The two hour show was quite enjoyable as McLaughlin led his band through his catalogue while emulating Coltrane’s sax runs. Outside as we walked back to Penn there were NYFD trucks, lights flashing, and firemen walking about with equipment, hoses, and radios blaring. Siren sounded in the distance. Walking on Sixth Avenue, just turning the corner to the Garden, seven NYPD patrol cars in succession, sirens blasting, sped by us toward Fifth. Strange night indeed.
One of my buddies had NY Giants tickets for that Sunday. The previous evening of noticing all the emergency services in the area did not truly register with me until the lights and TV feed went out in Giants Stadium that evening. He said inside was a bit chaotic, especially when cell phone service was non-existent during “the power outage”. Speaking to the other third of our trio on Monday he said something that totally alarmed me, “I always felt safe in NYC, but the other night (Saturday) was a bit surreal, and when the lights went out at the game I feared the worse”. Strange indeed. jazzbus@gmail.com
Happy Thanksgiving, Pilgrims
The Jazz Bus: The Mayflower
A 65 day trans-Atlantic ocean voyage on a tiny just sea worthy ship over-loaded with 102 passengers, most of whom were willing to risk all for their religious convictions; they miss their destination by hundreds of miles, arrive in a place uncharted, alien to them and those who piloted there. Disaster strikes. Now What?
You think a plot for a new reality show, but no, just the true story of “The Mayflower”, and a great book by Nathaniel Philbrick. Putting the book aside I reflected on Thanksgiving and what it means to some as well as the actual facts leading up to, as we called it in Scudder Avenue School, “The First Thanksgiving”. The modern day feast is the turkey, stuffing and all the trimmings, along with a few football games thrown in. Not exactly what the Pilgrims and Native Americans experienced.
These “Pilgrims” were actually a religious cult which broke away from the Church of England wishing for a life based solely on the teachings of The Bible. Described by some as “Separatists” they first emigrated to Amsterdam (1608) and then Holland (1609) to escape harassment and social persecution in their homeland. After 12 years in Holland, still unable to achieve religious and social recognition, one half the group left to settle in territories of The New World owned by The London Company.
Mishaps with ships and crew members (the Strangers) who mixed uncomfortably with this religious sect( the Leideners) , the 102 in total boarded The Mayflower on September 16,1620, landing in Cape Cod, November 19, 65 days later. They were granted land rights in Northern Virginia; unfortunately they missed their mark by hundreds of miles to the north. Alone, not joining up with other colonists or English civilization as they expected, and having no legal rights to the landing area, they were forced to draw up The Mayflower Compact which would help govern them when they settled. It took one month aboard that tiny ship sailing up and down the unfamiliar and quite unfriendly coast until they finally agreed upon a suitable place to settle, Dec. 26, 1620. The Mayflower which was late for its scheduled return back to England was now forced to spend what was best described as a horrible winter anchored in the harbor, On April 15, 1621, when The Mayflower started its return to England, half the colonists were dead. Those remaining were determined to survive.
The “First Thanksgiving” held October, 1621, was actually a Harvest Feast similar to English custom. After 11 months of fighting the fertility of the land, being both friend and foe to some of the Native tribes, the settlers harvested corn, squash, beans, barley and peas; hunted duck, geese, deer and wild turkeys. All this with an abundance of striped bass, bluefish, cod, and beer brewed with the barley, the feast began when some “Natives” offered their neighbors deer roasted on a spit. Their mutual challenge of survival was a bonding force. The colonists sat cross legged on the ground, eating with their bare hands and knives, as forks didn’t make it until 1690 or so. The colonists were considered “as a little child” by the Pokanokers, while the Pokanokers were “very trustworthy, quick of apprehension, ripe witted, just” according to Edward Winslow.
As you sit comfortably around your table with your Harvest Feast in front of you, with knives and forks at the ready, it is time to honor the true meaning of Thanksgiving, one where we actually give thanks to our friends, relatives and family, those who make our lives so special and rewarding. From all the riders on The Jazz Bus to your family, Happy T Thanksgiving. Jazzbus@gmail.com PS: I am finally on FACEBOOK.
A 65 day trans-Atlantic ocean voyage on a tiny just sea worthy ship over-loaded with 102 passengers, most of whom were willing to risk all for their religious convictions; they miss their destination by hundreds of miles, arrive in a place uncharted, alien to them and those who piloted there. Disaster strikes. Now What?
You think a plot for a new reality show, but no, just the true story of “The Mayflower”, and a great book by Nathaniel Philbrick. Putting the book aside I reflected on Thanksgiving and what it means to some as well as the actual facts leading up to, as we called it in Scudder Avenue School, “The First Thanksgiving”. The modern day feast is the turkey, stuffing and all the trimmings, along with a few football games thrown in. Not exactly what the Pilgrims and Native Americans experienced.
These “Pilgrims” were actually a religious cult which broke away from the Church of England wishing for a life based solely on the teachings of The Bible. Described by some as “Separatists” they first emigrated to Amsterdam (1608) and then Holland (1609) to escape harassment and social persecution in their homeland. After 12 years in Holland, still unable to achieve religious and social recognition, one half the group left to settle in territories of The New World owned by The London Company.
Mishaps with ships and crew members (the Strangers) who mixed uncomfortably with this religious sect( the Leideners) , the 102 in total boarded The Mayflower on September 16,1620, landing in Cape Cod, November 19, 65 days later. They were granted land rights in Northern Virginia; unfortunately they missed their mark by hundreds of miles to the north. Alone, not joining up with other colonists or English civilization as they expected, and having no legal rights to the landing area, they were forced to draw up The Mayflower Compact which would help govern them when they settled. It took one month aboard that tiny ship sailing up and down the unfamiliar and quite unfriendly coast until they finally agreed upon a suitable place to settle, Dec. 26, 1620. The Mayflower which was late for its scheduled return back to England was now forced to spend what was best described as a horrible winter anchored in the harbor, On April 15, 1621, when The Mayflower started its return to England, half the colonists were dead. Those remaining were determined to survive.
The “First Thanksgiving” held October, 1621, was actually a Harvest Feast similar to English custom. After 11 months of fighting the fertility of the land, being both friend and foe to some of the Native tribes, the settlers harvested corn, squash, beans, barley and peas; hunted duck, geese, deer and wild turkeys. All this with an abundance of striped bass, bluefish, cod, and beer brewed with the barley, the feast began when some “Natives” offered their neighbors deer roasted on a spit. Their mutual challenge of survival was a bonding force. The colonists sat cross legged on the ground, eating with their bare hands and knives, as forks didn’t make it until 1690 or so. The colonists were considered “as a little child” by the Pokanokers, while the Pokanokers were “very trustworthy, quick of apprehension, ripe witted, just” according to Edward Winslow.
As you sit comfortably around your table with your Harvest Feast in front of you, with knives and forks at the ready, it is time to honor the true meaning of Thanksgiving, one where we actually give thanks to our friends, relatives and family, those who make our lives so special and rewarding. From all the riders on The Jazz Bus to your family, Happy T Thanksgiving. Jazzbus@gmail.com PS: I am finally on FACEBOOK.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Kill a Tree for Me
The Jazz Bus: Kill a Tree for Me
The elections are over and the ballots all finally counted, the results are in with a few still being contested. No hanging chads this time, no “oh, he’s your brother the governor” scam, just good old time nasty “he say she say” politics. Finger pointing, outing the opponent for doing this or not doing that or for being “in-bed” with The Speaker of The House while never hinting at what this politician stood for, just against.
Then on Election Day I get to the polling place and knowing in advance a new system was being used I prepared for long lines and in-depth explanations on the procedure. But, ah, not to be. The line was non-existent, and the usual cast of characters from the Board of Elections was in place, mostly my neighbors. After some small talk about our respective families I signed in, got my number which was recorded at the next table, and proceeded to the third table to pick up my paper ballot. Already I was missing the security of the mysterious curtain surrounding the voting machine. The old lever system was good enough for me and the environment too, I think. But more on that later. So I instructed to use a black magic marker hooked to string (no one will steal that sucker) located in the “privacy booth”. This marker was the same one you probably used, as did the guys coughing, sneezing, and wheezing after me. Swine flu here I come. While this unsanitary situation was bad enough for me, it got worse. The most offensive thing to me was handing my completed ballot face up to a guy, my neighbor, who inserted it into the machine to register my vote. He certainly got an eyeful. Leaving a bit uncomfortable I later spoke to friends who felt the same way. Secret ballot, democracy.
A few days later I read in the local paper that millions of unused preprinted ballots, which can never be used in future elections, remain. All must be collected and stored by The Board of Elections for two full years. Accountability, in case they are falsely submitted or something to that effect. While the printing costs were astonishing to begin with, now an additional cost of over $1,000,000 will be needed to secure these unused ballots. So, trees across our great country were cut down to make paper to print these unused ballots, and now my taxes are paying to secure all the ex-trees. What a great system.
With little fanfare, no true hue and cry, a few citizens questioned why we needed a new system in the first place. Modernization, true accountability, and cost effectiveness was the gist of the answer. Your Honor, I rest my case. jazzbus@gmail.com
The elections are over and the ballots all finally counted, the results are in with a few still being contested. No hanging chads this time, no “oh, he’s your brother the governor” scam, just good old time nasty “he say she say” politics. Finger pointing, outing the opponent for doing this or not doing that or for being “in-bed” with The Speaker of The House while never hinting at what this politician stood for, just against.
Then on Election Day I get to the polling place and knowing in advance a new system was being used I prepared for long lines and in-depth explanations on the procedure. But, ah, not to be. The line was non-existent, and the usual cast of characters from the Board of Elections was in place, mostly my neighbors. After some small talk about our respective families I signed in, got my number which was recorded at the next table, and proceeded to the third table to pick up my paper ballot. Already I was missing the security of the mysterious curtain surrounding the voting machine. The old lever system was good enough for me and the environment too, I think. But more on that later. So I instructed to use a black magic marker hooked to string (no one will steal that sucker) located in the “privacy booth”. This marker was the same one you probably used, as did the guys coughing, sneezing, and wheezing after me. Swine flu here I come. While this unsanitary situation was bad enough for me, it got worse. The most offensive thing to me was handing my completed ballot face up to a guy, my neighbor, who inserted it into the machine to register my vote. He certainly got an eyeful. Leaving a bit uncomfortable I later spoke to friends who felt the same way. Secret ballot, democracy.
A few days later I read in the local paper that millions of unused preprinted ballots, which can never be used in future elections, remain. All must be collected and stored by The Board of Elections for two full years. Accountability, in case they are falsely submitted or something to that effect. While the printing costs were astonishing to begin with, now an additional cost of over $1,000,000 will be needed to secure these unused ballots. So, trees across our great country were cut down to make paper to print these unused ballots, and now my taxes are paying to secure all the ex-trees. What a great system.
With little fanfare, no true hue and cry, a few citizens questioned why we needed a new system in the first place. Modernization, true accountability, and cost effectiveness was the gist of the answer. Your Honor, I rest my case. jazzbus@gmail.com
Who R U??
The Jazz Bus: Who R U???
People have been e-mailing me asking,” Who are you?”, or better yet, “What are you?”, or my favorite, “What is this “jazz bus” thing?” It doesn’t really matter, does it? A few readers think there is an actual bus and I am the driver; one who blasts jazz music while riding on my route. Alas, it is not, nor am I that. Rather “the bus” is a literary vehicle with a blog and a column to the Copiague Weekly. However, for true clarification, the “bus” thing is based on “Jazz –B- Us”, a short lived business clearinghouse which was available online for jazz musicians seeking advice about local gigs, medical care, or financial information. As jazz musicians are known to do, they shortened the title to “The Bus”. Oh, well, could have been worse.
But, what if it was an actual bus? What would it be like? Yes, it would be a huge vehicle with extremely large windows, comfortable seats, and a great sound system. Absolutely free rides for all. No fares, and as the song goes “people, you just get on board”. Dreamers and drummers will always be found sitting silently in the rear seats gazing out the back window, wondering where their next gig will come from. Those politically savvy conservatives will of course be found on the right hand side, with liberals on the left. All must be “round trippers “so they can check out the view from the opposing side on the way home. Only then will they truly understand the other side. Long hair, short hair, bald, man, woman, any creed or nationality, doesn’t matter. Just sit back and enjoy everyday life while riding through town .The Grateful Dead claimed life to be “A long strange trip”. I add, “Enjoy the ride”.
A few weeks ago I mentioned “ the ride” as living in a world in which we were for things, not necessarily against things, a time when negativity and disrespect did not exist as blatantly as it does today, a time when we looked for solutions. Today, we offer insane rants about anything while blaming everyone. We have Democrats, Republicans, Liberals, Conservatives, Moderates, Tea Party, Coffee Party, Cocktail Party, whatever party. Be prepared, as it might get a little noisy on this bus so I will turn up some Coltrane on the stereo and drown out the din. I do condone standing up for your rights but not in the blaming of others for things out of our control. Blame has never been an answer, just a waste of time, a way to stall until an answer is found by others.
So the election of 2010 is over. While not belonging to any one political party (but the driver is usually seated on the left hand side of the vehicle) I wholeheartedly support those elected officials who wish to get the job at hand done. End the nonsense, clean up the environment, get the businesses up and running again, and help those in need. No arguments, no pointing fingers. Just get it done. Do you ride with me or not? jazzbus@gmail.com
People have been e-mailing me asking,” Who are you?”, or better yet, “What are you?”, or my favorite, “What is this “jazz bus” thing?” It doesn’t really matter, does it? A few readers think there is an actual bus and I am the driver; one who blasts jazz music while riding on my route. Alas, it is not, nor am I that. Rather “the bus” is a literary vehicle with a blog and a column to the Copiague Weekly. However, for true clarification, the “bus” thing is based on “Jazz –B- Us”, a short lived business clearinghouse which was available online for jazz musicians seeking advice about local gigs, medical care, or financial information. As jazz musicians are known to do, they shortened the title to “The Bus”. Oh, well, could have been worse.
But, what if it was an actual bus? What would it be like? Yes, it would be a huge vehicle with extremely large windows, comfortable seats, and a great sound system. Absolutely free rides for all. No fares, and as the song goes “people, you just get on board”. Dreamers and drummers will always be found sitting silently in the rear seats gazing out the back window, wondering where their next gig will come from. Those politically savvy conservatives will of course be found on the right hand side, with liberals on the left. All must be “round trippers “so they can check out the view from the opposing side on the way home. Only then will they truly understand the other side. Long hair, short hair, bald, man, woman, any creed or nationality, doesn’t matter. Just sit back and enjoy everyday life while riding through town .The Grateful Dead claimed life to be “A long strange trip”. I add, “Enjoy the ride”.
A few weeks ago I mentioned “ the ride” as living in a world in which we were for things, not necessarily against things, a time when negativity and disrespect did not exist as blatantly as it does today, a time when we looked for solutions. Today, we offer insane rants about anything while blaming everyone. We have Democrats, Republicans, Liberals, Conservatives, Moderates, Tea Party, Coffee Party, Cocktail Party, whatever party. Be prepared, as it might get a little noisy on this bus so I will turn up some Coltrane on the stereo and drown out the din. I do condone standing up for your rights but not in the blaming of others for things out of our control. Blame has never been an answer, just a waste of time, a way to stall until an answer is found by others.
So the election of 2010 is over. While not belonging to any one political party (but the driver is usually seated on the left hand side of the vehicle) I wholeheartedly support those elected officials who wish to get the job at hand done. End the nonsense, clean up the environment, get the businesses up and running again, and help those in need. No arguments, no pointing fingers. Just get it done. Do you ride with me or not? jazzbus@gmail.com
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Legends
The Jazz Bus: Meets “The Legends”
A few weeks ago, my bride and I attended an event called” LEGENDS”. This troupe of musical entertainers is a national touring company with shows each night in Las Vegas, Atlantic City, Myrtle Beach, and aboard various cruise lines. While the “acts” change every few weeks at each venue, our show the night we attended featured none other than Mr. Sammy Davis Jr., country crooner Conway Twitty, The Blues Brothers (Jake and Elwood), Bette Midler, and of course the King himself, Elvis, who appeared twice, first as a 60's Elvis and then as the Las Vegas showman called Elvis. The same guy, wow, how do they do it? This was a midweek show so the tickets were reasonably priced as two for one. Pulling into the parking lot was a chore as it was had many large coach buses filled with physically handicapped 90 year olds from all the local parishes. Seating these groups was like watching bumper cars at the amusement park, some slamming on the brakes of their electric wheel chairs , with others excitingly rushing to their reserved seats. When most were finally comfortable in their chairs their health aides removed all the electric wheel chairs from the aisle. With these vehicles properly stored and placed on recharging stations in the back and side of the room, the house lights dimmed, the stage brighten and a pretty nice show occurred for those of us who fought off sleep.
So I was thinking… How about a LEGENDS SHOW for “My” generation Not the typical "Three Dead Jays" ( Jimi, Janis, Jim) but more in line with Sid Vicious or Johnny Rotten. Sly and The Family Stone, you say? My brother offered IGGY. What do you say? Any suggestions? Jazzbus@gmail.com
A few weeks ago, my bride and I attended an event called” LEGENDS”. This troupe of musical entertainers is a national touring company with shows each night in Las Vegas, Atlantic City, Myrtle Beach, and aboard various cruise lines. While the “acts” change every few weeks at each venue, our show the night we attended featured none other than Mr. Sammy Davis Jr., country crooner Conway Twitty, The Blues Brothers (Jake and Elwood), Bette Midler, and of course the King himself, Elvis, who appeared twice, first as a 60's Elvis and then as the Las Vegas showman called Elvis. The same guy, wow, how do they do it? This was a midweek show so the tickets were reasonably priced as two for one. Pulling into the parking lot was a chore as it was had many large coach buses filled with physically handicapped 90 year olds from all the local parishes. Seating these groups was like watching bumper cars at the amusement park, some slamming on the brakes of their electric wheel chairs , with others excitingly rushing to their reserved seats. When most were finally comfortable in their chairs their health aides removed all the electric wheel chairs from the aisle. With these vehicles properly stored and placed on recharging stations in the back and side of the room, the house lights dimmed, the stage brighten and a pretty nice show occurred for those of us who fought off sleep.
So I was thinking… How about a LEGENDS SHOW for “My” generation Not the typical "Three Dead Jays" ( Jimi, Janis, Jim) but more in line with Sid Vicious or Johnny Rotten. Sly and The Family Stone, you say? My brother offered IGGY. What do you say? Any suggestions? Jazzbus@gmail.com
Thee Rolling Stones
The Jazz Bus: THEE Rolling Stones
It’s 1972,the voice of “Woodstock” Chip Monck ,matter of factly echoes throughout the arena, “Ladies and Gentlemen, The Rolling Stones”, and so begins the movie of the same name. Recently screened across the country as an “exclusive one night only event”, this reissue of a film shot from the edges of a Fort Worth stage during their EXILE ON MAIN STREET Tour coincides with the re-release of their album of the same name. Originally a business venture with John Lennon’s BUTTERFLY FILMS this flick has not been officially screened since its first run in major cities in 1974. Captured on celluiod during 3 separate performances, edited as spliced together as one show, this film gives us a look at the World’s Greatest Rock and Roll Band in what has been determined by critics to be its pinnacle. A young Keith, Mick, Charlie, Bill, and Mick Taylor grace the stage.
1975 saw the voluntary departure of Mick Taylor, with the band adding Ron Wood to the guitar spot. Numerous tours, records, videos followed over the years and now The Stones are in talks with Live Nation for a massive farewell stadium tour over the next two years to celebrate their 50th anniversary as a band. Charlie Watts, the band’s drummer will be 70 next year, Jagger and Keith 67.
Their last jaunt on the road, The BIGGER BANG Tour grossed $558million.jazzbus@gmail.com
It’s 1972,the voice of “Woodstock” Chip Monck ,matter of factly echoes throughout the arena, “Ladies and Gentlemen, The Rolling Stones”, and so begins the movie of the same name. Recently screened across the country as an “exclusive one night only event”, this reissue of a film shot from the edges of a Fort Worth stage during their EXILE ON MAIN STREET Tour coincides with the re-release of their album of the same name. Originally a business venture with John Lennon’s BUTTERFLY FILMS this flick has not been officially screened since its first run in major cities in 1974. Captured on celluiod during 3 separate performances, edited as spliced together as one show, this film gives us a look at the World’s Greatest Rock and Roll Band in what has been determined by critics to be its pinnacle. A young Keith, Mick, Charlie, Bill, and Mick Taylor grace the stage.
1975 saw the voluntary departure of Mick Taylor, with the band adding Ron Wood to the guitar spot. Numerous tours, records, videos followed over the years and now The Stones are in talks with Live Nation for a massive farewell stadium tour over the next two years to celebrate their 50th anniversary as a band. Charlie Watts, the band’s drummer will be 70 next year, Jagger and Keith 67.
Their last jaunt on the road, The BIGGER BANG Tour grossed $558million.jazzbus@gmail.com
Thursday, October 21, 2010
News Corp V. My Sanity
The Jazz Bus: News Corp v. My Sanity
It’s Sunday, a little after the noon hour, and I am still hoping against hope that Cablevision and Fox will come to their senses and release the hostages, we, the New York Football Giants fans. I check on line only to find they are still too far apart in their negotiations. So, like Eli Manning I need to scramble and find an open spot. I was invited to a Dish Network House but opted for what I thought to be the next best thing. On the road I go to a local spot that just might have the game. Arriving early I noticed the parking lot is practically empty. Reluctantly I asked, “Do you have today’s Giant’s game?” The reply was music to my ears so I bellied up finding a great seat in front of a huge plasma flat screen. After ordering my “first of the day” adult beverage, I relaxed.
The pregame show ended, the sound was up as was the lively crowd. The Giants were introduced, my beverage was freshened, and boom…the screen went blank, the silence deafening. A message across the screen indicated that this game was “blacked out due to league restrictions”. What??!!
The next few minutes are a blur with people running to and fro getting remotes, barking instructions while one poor soul attempted to adjust the screen and sound, but to no avail. Cell phones appeared with people calling friends or other establishments to see if they were the chosen few who might have the game. An exodus of the Giants Fateful in their full regalia, blue and whites, home and aways, left for their cars. The place could not have cleared faster if someone shouted “fire”. I sat feeling dejected. Ah, but wait someone shouted, “Grab the feed from Detroit, channel 588”. Amazingly, the picture returned as did the sound and we were only a few minutes into the game. The crowd reappeared in time to see Dodge drop another punt attempt.
So what’s the deal with this feud over charges anyway? A few months ago antennae TV was killed off, now you need a box AND provider, all at a “nominal” fee. Most homes have more than one set so additional charges add up. Premium packages, sports channels, weather channels, numerous so called news channels, etc, etc. We the consumer pay for all of these, whether you want them or not. The cable provider charges us. They in turn purchase (with our money) programming. The programmers get some of our money from our providers and also from the advertisers. Huh, our money makes more money but not for us, all making a tidy profit. We even pay to watch what once was “free” television, the local channels. So who are the evil demons of all this doing? This time not necesrrarily the Dolans (Cablevision, Newsday, The Garden, The Beacon, Rangers, Knicks,etc ,fame) but Rupert Murdoch, the NEWS CORP mogul ( FOX, Fox News, Fox Business, NY Post fame),the man who became a naturalized American so he could legally own TV stations in our great nation . I suggest a compromise to both the Dolans and Murdoch. Let the consumer specifically pick the channels we wish, not a package deal. Why did he, they, pull just Channel 5 and 9? How about pulling all 12 channels of Murdock’s evil media empire and see if we can survive? After all he is the 38th richest “American” according to Forbes. “Fair and balanced” is a joke when you ask for 150 million, double, a raise of 70 million, from the last deal. I for one do not need your “Animal Channel” or others any longer. Let’s go Giants.jazzbus@gmail.com
It’s Sunday, a little after the noon hour, and I am still hoping against hope that Cablevision and Fox will come to their senses and release the hostages, we, the New York Football Giants fans. I check on line only to find they are still too far apart in their negotiations. So, like Eli Manning I need to scramble and find an open spot. I was invited to a Dish Network House but opted for what I thought to be the next best thing. On the road I go to a local spot that just might have the game. Arriving early I noticed the parking lot is practically empty. Reluctantly I asked, “Do you have today’s Giant’s game?” The reply was music to my ears so I bellied up finding a great seat in front of a huge plasma flat screen. After ordering my “first of the day” adult beverage, I relaxed.
The pregame show ended, the sound was up as was the lively crowd. The Giants were introduced, my beverage was freshened, and boom…the screen went blank, the silence deafening. A message across the screen indicated that this game was “blacked out due to league restrictions”. What??!!
The next few minutes are a blur with people running to and fro getting remotes, barking instructions while one poor soul attempted to adjust the screen and sound, but to no avail. Cell phones appeared with people calling friends or other establishments to see if they were the chosen few who might have the game. An exodus of the Giants Fateful in their full regalia, blue and whites, home and aways, left for their cars. The place could not have cleared faster if someone shouted “fire”. I sat feeling dejected. Ah, but wait someone shouted, “Grab the feed from Detroit, channel 588”. Amazingly, the picture returned as did the sound and we were only a few minutes into the game. The crowd reappeared in time to see Dodge drop another punt attempt.
So what’s the deal with this feud over charges anyway? A few months ago antennae TV was killed off, now you need a box AND provider, all at a “nominal” fee. Most homes have more than one set so additional charges add up. Premium packages, sports channels, weather channels, numerous so called news channels, etc, etc. We the consumer pay for all of these, whether you want them or not. The cable provider charges us. They in turn purchase (with our money) programming. The programmers get some of our money from our providers and also from the advertisers. Huh, our money makes more money but not for us, all making a tidy profit. We even pay to watch what once was “free” television, the local channels. So who are the evil demons of all this doing? This time not necesrrarily the Dolans (Cablevision, Newsday, The Garden, The Beacon, Rangers, Knicks,etc ,fame) but Rupert Murdoch, the NEWS CORP mogul ( FOX, Fox News, Fox Business, NY Post fame),the man who became a naturalized American so he could legally own TV stations in our great nation . I suggest a compromise to both the Dolans and Murdoch. Let the consumer specifically pick the channels we wish, not a package deal. Why did he, they, pull just Channel 5 and 9? How about pulling all 12 channels of Murdock’s evil media empire and see if we can survive? After all he is the 38th richest “American” according to Forbes. “Fair and balanced” is a joke when you ask for 150 million, double, a raise of 70 million, from the last deal. I for one do not need your “Animal Channel” or others any longer. Let’s go Giants.jazzbus@gmail.com
Drinkin' the Kool-Aid
The Jazz Bus: Drinks The Kool-Aid?
Once there was a time when we as a people stood up for things and not necessarily just lambasted against things. During that era, our media, our press, our newsmen, were actual “news” people who were reliable and trusted; not just a talking heads, a pretty face, or worse, entertainers posing as news folk. In that same age of accurate and fair reporting our politicians displayed a general sense of public decorum with a respect for the people they represented, even those who did not vote for them, as well as a respect for other politicians and of course for the positions to which they were elected. Acting in a civilized way, being Gentlemen (women) was the order of the day. One could be adamantly opposed to an ideal or principle and debates of such could get somewhat heated. But personal diatribes and insults, I do not remember being thrown about as readily as they are today. Politicians were never above the law, manmade or in a moral sense, and maybe, unfortunately, indiscretions were hidden from public view. Today, not so much; sneeze and its front page fodder.
Scanning the channels at 6pm, 10pm and 11pm I see that most of our news programs are “news” only in their network calling it such. Mostly the hour is reserved for faux news regarding Lindsay Lohan’s latest stint in rehab or some reality show hag from Jersey who punched someone out. This in not “news” and should not be reported as “news”. What it is should be considered is hype, pure and simple. The so-called news programs of today continue to push their own networks shows in search of higher ratings and almighty advertiser’s bucks .Truthfully, I don’t care who is on this seasons Dancing With The Stars, nor do I need an instant recap of tonight’s episode of American Idol. I cannot imagine Walter Cronkite reporting something like that. Ask most people about recent developments in the lives of David Hasseloff or Charlie Sheen and you will receive an hour‘s dissertation. Ask about North Korea and get that far away look.
Pundits like Beck, Obermann, Rush, Maddox, O’Reilly, Imus, just offer comments, insults, innuendo, and many times poor attempts at humor. As Jon Stewart appropriately said, “we are just op-ed”. For me, Dragnet said it best, “Just the facts, ma’am”. Give it to me raw, only the truth, report it and let me filter out what and how I am to believe.
Recently I became entangled in political discussion. What started as two people’s soft points of view rapidly deteriorated by my compatriot into a name calling angry vent, all against me. I was called an “idiot” (which I might be) and was “obviously someone who drank the kool-aid” (first time I heard that outside of a Grateful Dead concert). All because I suggested that Carl Paladino, a man attempting to capture the role of Governor of our state and others (including Andrew Cuomo, his opponent) should develop a strategy of displaying what they stand for, not just what they are against. I added he was “out of line” in his recent comments which had nothing to do with any merits of Paladino’s candidacy. I further suggested Paladino appeared to be a bully and his outrageousness is simply a ploy to “get him some press, nothing more”. My opponent in this discussion had no idea what Paladino stood for , and told me so, yet adamantly and boldly declared , if he “hates Obama then he’s good enough for me”. My discussion mate shouted she was a “tea partier”. Me, I am just a cocktail partier. Dad was right; never discuss religion or politics over a few “diet cokes”. So I ask "where do we go from here"? Jazzbus@gmail.com
Once there was a time when we as a people stood up for things and not necessarily just lambasted against things. During that era, our media, our press, our newsmen, were actual “news” people who were reliable and trusted; not just a talking heads, a pretty face, or worse, entertainers posing as news folk. In that same age of accurate and fair reporting our politicians displayed a general sense of public decorum with a respect for the people they represented, even those who did not vote for them, as well as a respect for other politicians and of course for the positions to which they were elected. Acting in a civilized way, being Gentlemen (women) was the order of the day. One could be adamantly opposed to an ideal or principle and debates of such could get somewhat heated. But personal diatribes and insults, I do not remember being thrown about as readily as they are today. Politicians were never above the law, manmade or in a moral sense, and maybe, unfortunately, indiscretions were hidden from public view. Today, not so much; sneeze and its front page fodder.
Scanning the channels at 6pm, 10pm and 11pm I see that most of our news programs are “news” only in their network calling it such. Mostly the hour is reserved for faux news regarding Lindsay Lohan’s latest stint in rehab or some reality show hag from Jersey who punched someone out. This in not “news” and should not be reported as “news”. What it is should be considered is hype, pure and simple. The so-called news programs of today continue to push their own networks shows in search of higher ratings and almighty advertiser’s bucks .Truthfully, I don’t care who is on this seasons Dancing With The Stars, nor do I need an instant recap of tonight’s episode of American Idol. I cannot imagine Walter Cronkite reporting something like that. Ask most people about recent developments in the lives of David Hasseloff or Charlie Sheen and you will receive an hour‘s dissertation. Ask about North Korea and get that far away look.
Pundits like Beck, Obermann, Rush, Maddox, O’Reilly, Imus, just offer comments, insults, innuendo, and many times poor attempts at humor. As Jon Stewart appropriately said, “we are just op-ed”. For me, Dragnet said it best, “Just the facts, ma’am”. Give it to me raw, only the truth, report it and let me filter out what and how I am to believe.
Recently I became entangled in political discussion. What started as two people’s soft points of view rapidly deteriorated by my compatriot into a name calling angry vent, all against me. I was called an “idiot” (which I might be) and was “obviously someone who drank the kool-aid” (first time I heard that outside of a Grateful Dead concert). All because I suggested that Carl Paladino, a man attempting to capture the role of Governor of our state and others (including Andrew Cuomo, his opponent) should develop a strategy of displaying what they stand for, not just what they are against. I added he was “out of line” in his recent comments which had nothing to do with any merits of Paladino’s candidacy. I further suggested Paladino appeared to be a bully and his outrageousness is simply a ploy to “get him some press, nothing more”. My opponent in this discussion had no idea what Paladino stood for , and told me so, yet adamantly and boldly declared , if he “hates Obama then he’s good enough for me”. My discussion mate shouted she was a “tea partier”. Me, I am just a cocktail partier. Dad was right; never discuss religion or politics over a few “diet cokes”. So I ask "where do we go from here"? Jazzbus@gmail.com
Saturday, October 2, 2010
John Lennon @ 70
The Jazz Bus: John Lennon @ 70
Yoko Ono recently granted permission for EMI Records to re-issue (October 5) eight solo recordings of her late husband John Lennon to coincide with what would have been his 70th birthday (October 9). This newer batch, as per her wishes, includes a stripped down version of DOUBLE FANTASY. Void of additional instrumentation and overdubs the listener can focus on the poetry and voice of John Lennon. A single disc GREATEST HITS collection, a four disc anthology GIMME SOME TRUTH, and an 11-disc JOHN LENNON SIGNATURE BOX will also be available. Yoko and son Sean are also planning a commemorative concert in Los Angeles (similar to the one held a few months ago at the Brooklyn Academy of Music) with THE PLASTIC ONO BAND. Thinking back I truly miss the genius that was John Lennon’s ... I cannot “imagine” what would have been if John had lived.
During the past few months’ I have read a few books written about the Fab Four. One book of particular note is Peter Doggett’s YOU NEVER GIVE YOU YOUR MONEY; an exhausting look into the empire known as “THE BEATLES”, from their breakup onward. The Beatles as a business was and still is in a sorry state of affairs. A corporation known as Apple Corps developed from The Beatles, Ltd. and quickly spiraled out of control. Tangled by the involvement of multiple egotists and thousands of lawyers deals were made collectively, individually, overtly, covertly, and sometimes on their behalf without their consent or knowledge, most which landed them in court to resolve their finances. At one point George Harrison was declaring bankruptcy due to poor cash flow. A major example of this wheeling and dealing was uncovered in the Apple, Ltd. (The Beatles) lawsuit against Apple Computers (the iTunes guys) for their use of the name “Apple” as it applies to a music business. Full settlement of this legal mess is what is halting The Beatles from allowing their catalogue to be released digitally on iTunes. During the course of this Apple lawsuit it was found that Paul McCartney, without the other’s knowledge, had been receiving a “preferential royalty” from Capitol Records for his re- signing as a solo artist. The other “3” had not. When this fact which was worth millions to Sir Paul was uncovered the representatives of “the other three” went nuts, of course with another lawsuit developed against Capitol and Sir Paul.
In 1987 Yoko Ono acting as a Director of Apple, a role she inherited from the estate of John Lennon, allowed Nike to use REVOLUTION #1 in a television commercial. This particular song was penned solely by Mr. Lennon but attributed to Lennon/McCartney. Yoko believed she did not need to notify the “others” of this deal because it was “John’s song”. The “other three” who had no idea about the contract considered this an assault on The Beatles legacy. The “3” lost the lawsuit against Yoko as “she was acting as a Director”, and well within her rights. Paul questioned the logic of Yoko as a surrogate for The Beatles and their image when she was never a part of the group. As the 2013 deadline for EMI’s copyright of their material begins to run out those close to the situation have said that “McCartney dreaded what would happen if Yoko outlived him” (p.341). The belief is Yoko rewrites Beatles history to include herself and her “interference” has become “the battle for the soul of The Beatles”.
While only John (Yoko) and Paul benefit from what is left of the Lennon/McCartney songwriting catalogue, all four Beatles (Yoko for John, Olivia Harrison for George) share equally in Apple Corps, the total mother ship if you will. Many times over The Beatles landed up suing themselves, individually or collectively, all very costly, financially and in their relationships.
John Lennon, taken away from us at age 40, a collaborator in The Beatles catalogue of over 200 of the greatest pop records of all time, an accomplished solo artist, would have been 70 on October 9.His musical legacy is immeasurable. “All I want is some truth”.
Nov 12 LENNON TRIBUTE @ Beacon Theater with Jackson Browne, Patti Smith, Cyndi Lauper, etc
PBS Special Nov 22 LENNONYC-John’s life in NYC 1971-1980 jazzbus@gmail.com (jazzbus.blogspot.com)
Yoko Ono recently granted permission for EMI Records to re-issue (October 5) eight solo recordings of her late husband John Lennon to coincide with what would have been his 70th birthday (October 9). This newer batch, as per her wishes, includes a stripped down version of DOUBLE FANTASY. Void of additional instrumentation and overdubs the listener can focus on the poetry and voice of John Lennon. A single disc GREATEST HITS collection, a four disc anthology GIMME SOME TRUTH, and an 11-disc JOHN LENNON SIGNATURE BOX will also be available. Yoko and son Sean are also planning a commemorative concert in Los Angeles (similar to the one held a few months ago at the Brooklyn Academy of Music) with THE PLASTIC ONO BAND. Thinking back I truly miss the genius that was John Lennon’s ... I cannot “imagine” what would have been if John had lived.
During the past few months’ I have read a few books written about the Fab Four. One book of particular note is Peter Doggett’s YOU NEVER GIVE YOU YOUR MONEY; an exhausting look into the empire known as “THE BEATLES”, from their breakup onward. The Beatles as a business was and still is in a sorry state of affairs. A corporation known as Apple Corps developed from The Beatles, Ltd. and quickly spiraled out of control. Tangled by the involvement of multiple egotists and thousands of lawyers deals were made collectively, individually, overtly, covertly, and sometimes on their behalf without their consent or knowledge, most which landed them in court to resolve their finances. At one point George Harrison was declaring bankruptcy due to poor cash flow. A major example of this wheeling and dealing was uncovered in the Apple, Ltd. (The Beatles) lawsuit against Apple Computers (the iTunes guys) for their use of the name “Apple” as it applies to a music business. Full settlement of this legal mess is what is halting The Beatles from allowing their catalogue to be released digitally on iTunes. During the course of this Apple lawsuit it was found that Paul McCartney, without the other’s knowledge, had been receiving a “preferential royalty” from Capitol Records for his re- signing as a solo artist. The other “3” had not. When this fact which was worth millions to Sir Paul was uncovered the representatives of “the other three” went nuts, of course with another lawsuit developed against Capitol and Sir Paul.
In 1987 Yoko Ono acting as a Director of Apple, a role she inherited from the estate of John Lennon, allowed Nike to use REVOLUTION #1 in a television commercial. This particular song was penned solely by Mr. Lennon but attributed to Lennon/McCartney. Yoko believed she did not need to notify the “others” of this deal because it was “John’s song”. The “other three” who had no idea about the contract considered this an assault on The Beatles legacy. The “3” lost the lawsuit against Yoko as “she was acting as a Director”, and well within her rights. Paul questioned the logic of Yoko as a surrogate for The Beatles and their image when she was never a part of the group. As the 2013 deadline for EMI’s copyright of their material begins to run out those close to the situation have said that “McCartney dreaded what would happen if Yoko outlived him” (p.341). The belief is Yoko rewrites Beatles history to include herself and her “interference” has become “the battle for the soul of The Beatles”.
While only John (Yoko) and Paul benefit from what is left of the Lennon/McCartney songwriting catalogue, all four Beatles (Yoko for John, Olivia Harrison for George) share equally in Apple Corps, the total mother ship if you will. Many times over The Beatles landed up suing themselves, individually or collectively, all very costly, financially and in their relationships.
John Lennon, taken away from us at age 40, a collaborator in The Beatles catalogue of over 200 of the greatest pop records of all time, an accomplished solo artist, would have been 70 on October 9.His musical legacy is immeasurable. “All I want is some truth”.
Nov 12 LENNON TRIBUTE @ Beacon Theater with Jackson Browne, Patti Smith, Cyndi Lauper, etc
PBS Special Nov 22 LENNONYC-John’s life in NYC 1971-1980 jazzbus@gmail.com (jazzbus.blogspot.com)
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Harvest Moon
The Jazz Bus: Harvest Moon
It was beautiful, full, orange, and “the man in the moon” was visible. Fortunately it was a crystal clear evening and I was located on a large deck just off the ocean, without an obstruction near. Looking up I was reminded of times, more innocent times, where life was not so hectic. I took a deep breath and sip on my cocktail and rethought it, life is good. I was 700 miles away from home, with my bride celebrating our 37th anniversary. Yeah, it’s all good.
The Harvest Moon is a full moon which occurs nearest the autumnal equinox (September 23).This year it was on the exact date making it more significant having not been seen since 1991, and not again until 2029. This “super full moon” seemed to rise very slowly in the sky continuing on its path, shining brightly for what seemed like forever. Known as a “moon illusion” it seemed bigger and closer than ever before. Nicknamed the Harvest Moon by farmers and gatherers who could continue on their appointed rounds late into the night “by the light of the full moon” …Three days in succession. Since we are no longer a tribe of hunters and gatherers who needed the extra light to do our thing, what significance does this Harvest Moon hold for us? Besides signaling the start of a new season, fall, autumn, football, hockey, it was just another evening’s sphere. But it still fascinated me.
Loading Neil Young’s Harvest Moon in my player I started my research. First I found a site that gave names to the full moon for each month. February has the Snow Moon (ah, no kidding) March a Worm Moon, Strawberry Moon is saved for June with a Thunder Moon to follow in July. Then I hit a site that had me mesmerized just like the moon. Moonlightsys.com/themoon/song pulled me in and held me. Song after song about the moon. SHINE ON HARVEST MOON, the vaudeville song, was written 100 years ago, before my time. Bill Monroe’s BLUE MOON OF KENTUCKY, Elvis’ BLUE MOON, FLY ME TO THE MOON by Frank Sinatra, MOON SHADOW sung by Cat Stevens, Ozzy’s BARK AT THE MOON, Brooks and Dunn’s NEON MOON, Creedence BAD MOON RISING, Pink Floyd’s DARK SIDE OF THE MOON, King Crimson’s MOON CHILD, MOON RIVER by Louis Armstrong and Van Morrison’s MOON DANCE. Whew, while the hunters and gathers were doing their thing, the poets and musicians must have hung back and wrote about it. Happy Anniversary.
JazzBus@gmail.com
It was beautiful, full, orange, and “the man in the moon” was visible. Fortunately it was a crystal clear evening and I was located on a large deck just off the ocean, without an obstruction near. Looking up I was reminded of times, more innocent times, where life was not so hectic. I took a deep breath and sip on my cocktail and rethought it, life is good. I was 700 miles away from home, with my bride celebrating our 37th anniversary. Yeah, it’s all good.
The Harvest Moon is a full moon which occurs nearest the autumnal equinox (September 23).This year it was on the exact date making it more significant having not been seen since 1991, and not again until 2029. This “super full moon” seemed to rise very slowly in the sky continuing on its path, shining brightly for what seemed like forever. Known as a “moon illusion” it seemed bigger and closer than ever before. Nicknamed the Harvest Moon by farmers and gatherers who could continue on their appointed rounds late into the night “by the light of the full moon” …Three days in succession. Since we are no longer a tribe of hunters and gatherers who needed the extra light to do our thing, what significance does this Harvest Moon hold for us? Besides signaling the start of a new season, fall, autumn, football, hockey, it was just another evening’s sphere. But it still fascinated me.
Loading Neil Young’s Harvest Moon in my player I started my research. First I found a site that gave names to the full moon for each month. February has the Snow Moon (ah, no kidding) March a Worm Moon, Strawberry Moon is saved for June with a Thunder Moon to follow in July. Then I hit a site that had me mesmerized just like the moon. Moonlightsys.com/themoon/song pulled me in and held me. Song after song about the moon. SHINE ON HARVEST MOON, the vaudeville song, was written 100 years ago, before my time. Bill Monroe’s BLUE MOON OF KENTUCKY, Elvis’ BLUE MOON, FLY ME TO THE MOON by Frank Sinatra, MOON SHADOW sung by Cat Stevens, Ozzy’s BARK AT THE MOON, Brooks and Dunn’s NEON MOON, Creedence BAD MOON RISING, Pink Floyd’s DARK SIDE OF THE MOON, King Crimson’s MOON CHILD, MOON RIVER by Louis Armstrong and Van Morrison’s MOON DANCE. Whew, while the hunters and gathers were doing their thing, the poets and musicians must have hung back and wrote about it. Happy Anniversary.
JazzBus@gmail.com
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Pull Tabs
The Jazz Bus: The Urban Legend of the Pull Tab Collectors
Sometimes I open my email to find that my immediate attention is needed to help save someone’s life. Knowing I have no such power to save lives I politely research the requests and more times than not find the information to be false. However, I did and have been caught on one, an urban legend if you will, for many years. The mysterious “pull tab collection” to save the world phenomena.
Over the last few years I have been faithfully saving my pull tabs from aluminum beverage cans for a friend. I was lead to believe these tabs would go to numerous worthwhile organizations which would use the recycled materials or money from their recycling efforts to help offset the cost of dialysis for kidney patients, for diabetic’s medications, to help purchase wheel chairs for disabled veterans, or to aid in the care of seriously ill children. After rinsing the container for recycling, I would religiously pull the tab off, place it in a cup by the sink, and when the cup was full, transfer the tabs to a plastic Ziploc, knowing in my heart I have done a good deed for my fellow man. When I would see my friend I hand him a filled Ziploc or two. Proud as a peacock, this has been going on for a few years. Until, I gave a few hundred of these tops to my friend’s wife who looked at me curiously and shook her head dismissing the act with a simple request, “stop”. No reason was given, just a disapproving “stop”, like Mom used to say many years ago. Hmmm.
Like a good researcher I decided to investigate the origin of this collection and what had become of all the tops I and hundreds like me have faithfully collected to help save mankind from extinction. In a few clicks of the computer I realized that somewhere, someone, might be my friend, has a garage filled with thousands of pull tabs that are basically worthless. The aluminum used in making the tab is the same as the can itself so there is no “special value” or “special alloy” in the pull tab as I was led to believe. The Diabetes Society does not collect tabs to offset the cost of dialysis treatments, nor does the Veteran’s melt it down for wheelchair parts for their disabled brethren. The only organization that would accept any such collection was The Ronald McDonald’s House in St. Louis but doing so only as a service for those of us who were duped into collecting these items. Ronald “does not encourage collection”. The question is, why?
One million (1,000,000) pull tabs has the recycle value of $366.00, that’s about 3 ½ cents for each 100 collected. Collecting, sorting, transporting, and finding a place to recycle for cash and the record keeping involved is not cost effective when compared to the value of the collected items. In fact anyone taking on this endeavor would be losing hundreds of dollars, not making one red cent. I found most organization would prefer you collect pennies, convert them into cash and send in a check. Done. My pull tab cup has now been replaced by a penny jar. Saving the world, one cent at a time.
Jazzbus@gmail.com jazzbus.blogspot.com
Sometimes I open my email to find that my immediate attention is needed to help save someone’s life. Knowing I have no such power to save lives I politely research the requests and more times than not find the information to be false. However, I did and have been caught on one, an urban legend if you will, for many years. The mysterious “pull tab collection” to save the world phenomena.
Over the last few years I have been faithfully saving my pull tabs from aluminum beverage cans for a friend. I was lead to believe these tabs would go to numerous worthwhile organizations which would use the recycled materials or money from their recycling efforts to help offset the cost of dialysis for kidney patients, for diabetic’s medications, to help purchase wheel chairs for disabled veterans, or to aid in the care of seriously ill children. After rinsing the container for recycling, I would religiously pull the tab off, place it in a cup by the sink, and when the cup was full, transfer the tabs to a plastic Ziploc, knowing in my heart I have done a good deed for my fellow man. When I would see my friend I hand him a filled Ziploc or two. Proud as a peacock, this has been going on for a few years. Until, I gave a few hundred of these tops to my friend’s wife who looked at me curiously and shook her head dismissing the act with a simple request, “stop”. No reason was given, just a disapproving “stop”, like Mom used to say many years ago. Hmmm.
Like a good researcher I decided to investigate the origin of this collection and what had become of all the tops I and hundreds like me have faithfully collected to help save mankind from extinction. In a few clicks of the computer I realized that somewhere, someone, might be my friend, has a garage filled with thousands of pull tabs that are basically worthless. The aluminum used in making the tab is the same as the can itself so there is no “special value” or “special alloy” in the pull tab as I was led to believe. The Diabetes Society does not collect tabs to offset the cost of dialysis treatments, nor does the Veteran’s melt it down for wheelchair parts for their disabled brethren. The only organization that would accept any such collection was The Ronald McDonald’s House in St. Louis but doing so only as a service for those of us who were duped into collecting these items. Ronald “does not encourage collection”. The question is, why?
One million (1,000,000) pull tabs has the recycle value of $366.00, that’s about 3 ½ cents for each 100 collected. Collecting, sorting, transporting, and finding a place to recycle for cash and the record keeping involved is not cost effective when compared to the value of the collected items. In fact anyone taking on this endeavor would be losing hundreds of dollars, not making one red cent. I found most organization would prefer you collect pennies, convert them into cash and send in a check. Done. My pull tab cup has now been replaced by a penny jar. Saving the world, one cent at a time.
Jazzbus@gmail.com jazzbus.blogspot.com
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Half Way to St. Patrick's Day
The Jazz Bus: Half way to Saint Patrick’s Day:
It’s almost that time of year again. With only 182 left until St. Patrick’s Day, I say “let the preparations begin”. This fabled day has truly become a part of Americana. But I ask why do we reserve the festivities for only one day a year? Other “holidays” have elite status and are big deals in retail circles; but not St. Pat’s. It’s was not even Labor Day and the stores were already starting to sell Halloween decorations, while stocking up on their Thanksgiving supplies. Did I see Christmas lights going up? Many times merchants rush the holidays for a quick buck to be made. But what about adding St. Paddy’s Day to that list? The wearing of the green, funny hats, green beer, and some corned beef and cabbage. Unfortunately, not truly an Irish custom, but blatantly American, I suggest St. Pat’s should be celebrated year ‘round on the 17th of each month.
Many stories are told about the man we fondly call Saint Patrick, some stories true, others just legend. One of the most often told is how as a young man, later to be the Patron Saint of Ireland, banishes the snakes from Ireland. Well, not to truly disappoint you but there were no snakes in Ireland, then or now. The origin of this story is most likely a reference to Patrick’s (his taken Christian name) attempts to drive Pagan Druids from Ireland, their symbol being a serpent. Bannavem Taberniae, his given name, was born about 385 A.D. and after being kidnapped at age sixteen and escaping his captors became a Christian missionary, probably the most successful in history. March 17, the day of his death, is celebrated both in and outside of Ireland, as both a liturgical and non-liturgical holiday. In the dioceses of Ireland it is both a solemnity and a holy day of obligation. The Isle of Ireland is associated mostly with the color green. This is due in part from the abundance of three leafed shamrocks which cover the landscape. These plants were used by the Catholic ministers in their teaching the concept of the Holy Trinity to the people, hence the symbol of Irish Christianity.
The St. Patrick's Day custom came to America in 1737. That was the first year St. Patrick's Day was publicly celebrated in this country, in Boston. Today, people celebrate “the day” with parades, wearing of the green, and drinking beer. One reason St. Patrick's Day might have become so popular is that it takes place just a few days before the first day of spring, another reason to celebrate after a long cold winter.
Corned beef and cabbage with green beer is an American thing. Beef was and is a rarity in Ireland. However, it is not so in America so every, without exception, Irish tavern or inn in the United States has it on its menu.
As my grandmother was fond to say “If you are lucky enough to be Irish, well, then you are
Lucky enough”. Happy Half-way to Saint Patrick’s Day.
Jazzbus@gmail.com jazzbus.blogspot.com
It’s almost that time of year again. With only 182 left until St. Patrick’s Day, I say “let the preparations begin”. This fabled day has truly become a part of Americana. But I ask why do we reserve the festivities for only one day a year? Other “holidays” have elite status and are big deals in retail circles; but not St. Pat’s. It’s was not even Labor Day and the stores were already starting to sell Halloween decorations, while stocking up on their Thanksgiving supplies. Did I see Christmas lights going up? Many times merchants rush the holidays for a quick buck to be made. But what about adding St. Paddy’s Day to that list? The wearing of the green, funny hats, green beer, and some corned beef and cabbage. Unfortunately, not truly an Irish custom, but blatantly American, I suggest St. Pat’s should be celebrated year ‘round on the 17th of each month.
Many stories are told about the man we fondly call Saint Patrick, some stories true, others just legend. One of the most often told is how as a young man, later to be the Patron Saint of Ireland, banishes the snakes from Ireland. Well, not to truly disappoint you but there were no snakes in Ireland, then or now. The origin of this story is most likely a reference to Patrick’s (his taken Christian name) attempts to drive Pagan Druids from Ireland, their symbol being a serpent. Bannavem Taberniae, his given name, was born about 385 A.D. and after being kidnapped at age sixteen and escaping his captors became a Christian missionary, probably the most successful in history. March 17, the day of his death, is celebrated both in and outside of Ireland, as both a liturgical and non-liturgical holiday. In the dioceses of Ireland it is both a solemnity and a holy day of obligation. The Isle of Ireland is associated mostly with the color green. This is due in part from the abundance of three leafed shamrocks which cover the landscape. These plants were used by the Catholic ministers in their teaching the concept of the Holy Trinity to the people, hence the symbol of Irish Christianity.
The St. Patrick's Day custom came to America in 1737. That was the first year St. Patrick's Day was publicly celebrated in this country, in Boston. Today, people celebrate “the day” with parades, wearing of the green, and drinking beer. One reason St. Patrick's Day might have become so popular is that it takes place just a few days before the first day of spring, another reason to celebrate after a long cold winter.
Corned beef and cabbage with green beer is an American thing. Beef was and is a rarity in Ireland. However, it is not so in America so every, without exception, Irish tavern or inn in the United States has it on its menu.
As my grandmother was fond to say “If you are lucky enough to be Irish, well, then you are
Lucky enough”. Happy Half-way to Saint Patrick’s Day.
Jazzbus@gmail.com jazzbus.blogspot.com
Saturday, September 4, 2010
September 11
The Jazz Bus: September 11, 2001
Where were you and what were you thinking when you first heard the news that a plane had crashed in to the Twin Towers? Naively, I thought a jet had veered off course and a tragic accident had occurred. Immediately turning the television on, watching the building burn, I noticed a second plane come into view and right then my heart dropped. What was happening? Coincidence? Did the navigation systems go haywire? Within the next two hours both buildings had tumbled to the ground, thousands of lives lost, tens of thousands of families shattered and millions of heart broken.
Nineteen terrorists simultaneously hijacked four (4) commercial passenger jet airliners originating from Boston, Newark and Dulles in Washington D.C. with intent to purposely crash these machines into their intended targets; WTC #1, WTC#2, The Pentagon, and The Capitol Building.
8:46 a.m. - The North Tower is hit followed by The South Tower at 9:03.(Seventeen minutes apart) Both buildings burn frantically while in Washington a third plane hits The Pentagon at 9:37 (51 minutes from first impact). In horrifying view on television The South Tower collapses at 9:59 (73 minutes from impact) while aboard United Airlines Flight #93 passengers are engaged in a struggle with the hijackers who targeted The Capitol. That flight crashed at 10:03 am in rural Pennsylvania missing its intended target because of the heroics of the passengers. The second tower fell, 10:28 am.
The aftermath is astonishing. Survivors, my friends who worked on Wall Street went unemployed; some refused to return to work in the vicinity of The Towers. First responders fell ill from the air quality during their heroic attempts to save lives and are still lacking in appropriate care. Businesses disappeared. The beautiful New York skyline has never been the same. And the man responsible for it all is still at large.
We Americans seem to be divided on our politics as of late. The gap between politic beliefs and expectations are ever widening. Questions arise as to where our troops should be deployed and where our money spent. Iran, Iraq, North Korea, Afghanistan. Put troops in….no pull them out others say. Many an argument revolves around this topic. But to me, simplistically, the bottom line is “Where in the world is Osama bin Laden?” and “Why hasn’t he paid for his sins yet?” The War on Terrorism should have more teeth than making me take my shoes off at the airport. Let’s get the man responsible for this horrible event with all its aftermath before the tenth anniversary of his crime against The United States of America.
September 11, 2001 is a day of remembrance but in actuality is a “Day We Will Never Forget”. Always in our hearts, always in our mind. Flag etiquette for the day is half-staff all day. God Bless The United States of America.
Jazzbus@gmail.com
Where were you and what were you thinking when you first heard the news that a plane had crashed in to the Twin Towers? Naively, I thought a jet had veered off course and a tragic accident had occurred. Immediately turning the television on, watching the building burn, I noticed a second plane come into view and right then my heart dropped. What was happening? Coincidence? Did the navigation systems go haywire? Within the next two hours both buildings had tumbled to the ground, thousands of lives lost, tens of thousands of families shattered and millions of heart broken.
Nineteen terrorists simultaneously hijacked four (4) commercial passenger jet airliners originating from Boston, Newark and Dulles in Washington D.C. with intent to purposely crash these machines into their intended targets; WTC #1, WTC#2, The Pentagon, and The Capitol Building.
8:46 a.m. - The North Tower is hit followed by The South Tower at 9:03.(Seventeen minutes apart) Both buildings burn frantically while in Washington a third plane hits The Pentagon at 9:37 (51 minutes from first impact). In horrifying view on television The South Tower collapses at 9:59 (73 minutes from impact) while aboard United Airlines Flight #93 passengers are engaged in a struggle with the hijackers who targeted The Capitol. That flight crashed at 10:03 am in rural Pennsylvania missing its intended target because of the heroics of the passengers. The second tower fell, 10:28 am.
The aftermath is astonishing. Survivors, my friends who worked on Wall Street went unemployed; some refused to return to work in the vicinity of The Towers. First responders fell ill from the air quality during their heroic attempts to save lives and are still lacking in appropriate care. Businesses disappeared. The beautiful New York skyline has never been the same. And the man responsible for it all is still at large.
We Americans seem to be divided on our politics as of late. The gap between politic beliefs and expectations are ever widening. Questions arise as to where our troops should be deployed and where our money spent. Iran, Iraq, North Korea, Afghanistan. Put troops in….no pull them out others say. Many an argument revolves around this topic. But to me, simplistically, the bottom line is “Where in the world is Osama bin Laden?” and “Why hasn’t he paid for his sins yet?” The War on Terrorism should have more teeth than making me take my shoes off at the airport. Let’s get the man responsible for this horrible event with all its aftermath before the tenth anniversary of his crime against The United States of America.
September 11, 2001 is a day of remembrance but in actuality is a “Day We Will Never Forget”. Always in our hearts, always in our mind. Flag etiquette for the day is half-staff all day. God Bless The United States of America.
Jazzbus@gmail.com
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Channeling Gershwin
The Jazz Bus: Channeling Gershwin
Uniqueness is a tough thing to accomplish. To be easily identified as something of your own because of certain tendencies or style is in my estimation a phenomenal feat. Music is one of those things where “uniqueness” is very difficult to establish.
A saxophone is a complex instrument with many keys to press in order make music. Reed size and style, amount of air, lip placement all add to the sounds produced. The guitar which can be strummed by virtually anyone is only truly melodic with properly placed fingers and different pressures added. After learning the basics in music an apprentice can sit at the foot of a master to learn tone, phraseology, inflection, and riffing. Soon one takes off on their own musical journey hopefully developing a style of their own, a uniqueness a trait easily recognizable as their own.
George and Ira Gershwin are two brothers who developed a musical style one could proudly call their own. George Gershwin was an iconic musician who wrote with his brother Ira many recognizable tunes. Some might not be able to identify a song as Gershwin’s but will tap their foot because they are familiar with the melody or the words. Brian Wilson is another iconic figure in music. As the leader of The Beach Boys to some he might go unknown but his “sound” does not go unrecognized. Both the Gershwin and The Beach Boys “sound” are brand names in music; easily recognized as undeniable unique. So what would happen if George Gershwin was channeled by a mature 2010 Brian Wilson? Well, it’s here. Brian Wilson REIMAGINES GERSHWIN is the Number 1 recording on Amazon.com. Only took a week to climb the charts, but took two musical lifetimes to develop.
The Beach Boys, made up of brothers Brian, Carl, Dennis, Cousin Mike Love, and best friend Al Jardine formed in California 1961. Brian was the leader through their most innovative and creative period only to personally crash and burn from mental illness and drugs and then to disappear from the stage. In their heyday the band was easily recognized by their close vocal harmonies, and complex musical arrangements. The group has had thirty-six U.S. Top 40 hits (the most of any U.S. rock band) and fifty-six Hot 100 hits, including four number-one singles]The Beach Boys are the No.-1-selling American band of all time. George Gershwin, with brother Ira, wrote many of tunes that runs deep in the American consciousness, "I Got Rhythm", "Embraceable You", "The Man I Love", "Someone to Watch Over Me", "Fascinating Rhythm", are instantly recognizable as Gershwin’s.
Over the last few years there has been a phenomenon known as MASH-UPS, where a dj takes one song or riff and superimposes another over it, played to a club beat .an example is SINGLE MAYBERRY which is the extremely popular Beyonce tune Single Ladies mashed over the whistling to the Theme from the Andy Griffith Show. Well the new Brian Wilson collection is something similar. He took all the recognizable musical innovations, vocal harmonies and clarity of his Beach Boy days and use all to his advantage in recording Gershwin’s material. It’s The Genius from the Beach Boys doing Gershwin. If you haven’t purchased any music in sometime today is the day. Give it a shot. It works, amazingly.
In 2007, the Library of Congress named its Prize for Popular Song after the Gershwin Brothers George. The prize is awarded annually to a composer or performer whose lifetime contributions exemplify the standard of excellence associated with the Gershwin’s. To date the recipients are Paul Simon, Stevie Wonder, and Sir Paul McCartney. Any suggestions or nominations for next year?
Jazzbus@gmail.com
Uniqueness is a tough thing to accomplish. To be easily identified as something of your own because of certain tendencies or style is in my estimation a phenomenal feat. Music is one of those things where “uniqueness” is very difficult to establish.
A saxophone is a complex instrument with many keys to press in order make music. Reed size and style, amount of air, lip placement all add to the sounds produced. The guitar which can be strummed by virtually anyone is only truly melodic with properly placed fingers and different pressures added. After learning the basics in music an apprentice can sit at the foot of a master to learn tone, phraseology, inflection, and riffing. Soon one takes off on their own musical journey hopefully developing a style of their own, a uniqueness a trait easily recognizable as their own.
George and Ira Gershwin are two brothers who developed a musical style one could proudly call their own. George Gershwin was an iconic musician who wrote with his brother Ira many recognizable tunes. Some might not be able to identify a song as Gershwin’s but will tap their foot because they are familiar with the melody or the words. Brian Wilson is another iconic figure in music. As the leader of The Beach Boys to some he might go unknown but his “sound” does not go unrecognized. Both the Gershwin and The Beach Boys “sound” are brand names in music; easily recognized as undeniable unique. So what would happen if George Gershwin was channeled by a mature 2010 Brian Wilson? Well, it’s here. Brian Wilson REIMAGINES GERSHWIN is the Number 1 recording on Amazon.com. Only took a week to climb the charts, but took two musical lifetimes to develop.
The Beach Boys, made up of brothers Brian, Carl, Dennis, Cousin Mike Love, and best friend Al Jardine formed in California 1961. Brian was the leader through their most innovative and creative period only to personally crash and burn from mental illness and drugs and then to disappear from the stage. In their heyday the band was easily recognized by their close vocal harmonies, and complex musical arrangements. The group has had thirty-six U.S. Top 40 hits (the most of any U.S. rock band) and fifty-six Hot 100 hits, including four number-one singles]The Beach Boys are the No.-1-selling American band of all time. George Gershwin, with brother Ira, wrote many of tunes that runs deep in the American consciousness, "I Got Rhythm", "Embraceable You", "The Man I Love", "Someone to Watch Over Me", "Fascinating Rhythm", are instantly recognizable as Gershwin’s.
Over the last few years there has been a phenomenon known as MASH-UPS, where a dj takes one song or riff and superimposes another over it, played to a club beat .an example is SINGLE MAYBERRY which is the extremely popular Beyonce tune Single Ladies mashed over the whistling to the Theme from the Andy Griffith Show. Well the new Brian Wilson collection is something similar. He took all the recognizable musical innovations, vocal harmonies and clarity of his Beach Boy days and use all to his advantage in recording Gershwin’s material. It’s The Genius from the Beach Boys doing Gershwin. If you haven’t purchased any music in sometime today is the day. Give it a shot. It works, amazingly.
In 2007, the Library of Congress named its Prize for Popular Song after the Gershwin Brothers George. The prize is awarded annually to a composer or performer whose lifetime contributions exemplify the standard of excellence associated with the Gershwin’s. To date the recipients are Paul Simon, Stevie Wonder, and Sir Paul McCartney. Any suggestions or nominations for next year?
Jazzbus@gmail.com
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Sunday Bloody Sunday
The Jazz Bus: England v. Ireland
Ah, the World Cup? No, this time it’s the world’s stage. Recently, after many years and $280 million in investigative costs plus over 3000 deaths and too numerous to guess injuries in retaliation , the British Prime Minister apologized to Northern Ireland and the world for what is known as “Bloody Sunday”, 30, January,1972 . Almost 40 years later it is now acknowledged that a British Parachute Regiment open fire on unarmed Irish, and then lied and mislead about the circumstances, with a full British governmental cover-up. Fourteen killed of which 7 were mere teenagers, who were fleeing the troops or assisting their wounded friends.
Irish I am and proud of it. Both sides, maternal and paternal, Irish. The Shea’, Moran’s, O’Flanagan’s Rigney’s, all date back to Ireland, most proudly Northern Ireland, aka The Six Counties. At one time on my cubicle wall space I had a bumper sticker which simple stated in mathematical formula: 26+1=Ireland. After numerous questions about what the sticker represented, I removed it, too tired to explain the modern day history of my ancestral land. In short, there were 32 traditional counties in Ireland, until the Government Act of Ireland, 1920, Home Rule. The six Northern Counties opted out of British Rule, trying to remain Ireland. The rest is history, or as we say, The Troubles.
The point my rant today is the rhetoric supplied in the Prime Minister’s apology. While the apology is appreciated and elegantly stated it would not have been appreciated by my ancestors.
Many years ago, in my grandmother’s home in Brooklyn, I heard a discussion amongst family members regarding Irish geography. The points were revolving around why my ancestors moved from one county to the next, circa The Famine (another falsehood by the British) of 1847. During this pleasant Sunday discourse the word “Londonderry” was used. As a little kid, I knew it must be a bad word or worse, a profanity, because my maternal great grandmother, “Big Grandma”, as she was known, a Democratic leader in her ward, a widow not shy of anything or anyone yelled something to the effect,”We’ll not have any of that King’s stuff (she used a different word I am sure) in here. It’s Derry, not Londonderry, and you better remember that.” I did and still do.
So what’s my point? The Prime Minister still refers to the site of the murders as Londonderry, a name given to the town of Derry by “the crown”. as a reminder to those opposed to the king. Reading the local Irish papers on the Internet one will see that most Northern Irish Republicans lovingly refer to it simply as Derry. My great grandmother who died many years before Bloody Sunday would have been enraged in not only in 1972, but today she would have washed Mr. Cameron’s mouth out with soap.
Jazzbus@gmail.com
Ah, the World Cup? No, this time it’s the world’s stage. Recently, after many years and $280 million in investigative costs plus over 3000 deaths and too numerous to guess injuries in retaliation , the British Prime Minister apologized to Northern Ireland and the world for what is known as “Bloody Sunday”, 30, January,1972 . Almost 40 years later it is now acknowledged that a British Parachute Regiment open fire on unarmed Irish, and then lied and mislead about the circumstances, with a full British governmental cover-up. Fourteen killed of which 7 were mere teenagers, who were fleeing the troops or assisting their wounded friends.
Irish I am and proud of it. Both sides, maternal and paternal, Irish. The Shea’, Moran’s, O’Flanagan’s Rigney’s, all date back to Ireland, most proudly Northern Ireland, aka The Six Counties. At one time on my cubicle wall space I had a bumper sticker which simple stated in mathematical formula: 26+1=Ireland. After numerous questions about what the sticker represented, I removed it, too tired to explain the modern day history of my ancestral land. In short, there were 32 traditional counties in Ireland, until the Government Act of Ireland, 1920, Home Rule. The six Northern Counties opted out of British Rule, trying to remain Ireland. The rest is history, or as we say, The Troubles.
The point my rant today is the rhetoric supplied in the Prime Minister’s apology. While the apology is appreciated and elegantly stated it would not have been appreciated by my ancestors.
Many years ago, in my grandmother’s home in Brooklyn, I heard a discussion amongst family members regarding Irish geography. The points were revolving around why my ancestors moved from one county to the next, circa The Famine (another falsehood by the British) of 1847. During this pleasant Sunday discourse the word “Londonderry” was used. As a little kid, I knew it must be a bad word or worse, a profanity, because my maternal great grandmother, “Big Grandma”, as she was known, a Democratic leader in her ward, a widow not shy of anything or anyone yelled something to the effect,”We’ll not have any of that King’s stuff (she used a different word I am sure) in here. It’s Derry, not Londonderry, and you better remember that.” I did and still do.
So what’s my point? The Prime Minister still refers to the site of the murders as Londonderry, a name given to the town of Derry by “the crown”. as a reminder to those opposed to the king. Reading the local Irish papers on the Internet one will see that most Northern Irish Republicans lovingly refer to it simply as Derry. My great grandmother who died many years before Bloody Sunday would have been enraged in not only in 1972, but today she would have washed Mr. Cameron’s mouth out with soap.
Jazzbus@gmail.com
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Two Voices Silenced
The Jazz Bus: Two Voices Silenced
Yankee Stadium or Yankee Stadium East as I prefer to call the HOUSE THAT GEORGE BUILT is an awe inspiring structure. Beautiful as the new place is I still miss the old hallowed grounds where I spent many a day and night. New centerfield never had the grace of Number 7 running around, Thurman behind its plate, and Bob Murcer never tipped his cap from this dugout.
I took the train in for an afternoon game against The Tigers recently Accompanied by a Met fan who only a few nights before had his first experience at CitiField (Irish Night). Needless to say he liked “The New Shea” even though his beloved Mets lost (again), but was blown away by Stadium East.
My sojourn to Stadium East coincided with Yankees Hope Week, and on this particular day the Yankees celebrated the accomplishment of The Beautiful People and highlighted certain children from the organization. A young Down syndrome boy threw out the first ball accompanied by his proud parents. All stood together during Our National Anthem. But to me the most impressive part of the day was when the Public Address System was turned over to another young man to announce each of the Yankees players. Sixteen-year-old Daniel Fratto born with severe combined immune deficiency syndrome that requires him to wheel a portable oxygen tank around might have found his calling as the new public address announcer.
Yankee Stadium voice Paul Olden who to me is as boring as can be thankfully stepped aside to allow the youngster announce the Bombers in the home half of the fourth inning. Shown on the huge screen in centerfield it was obvious that young Dan was nervous but determined. With oxygen tubes visible he took a deep breath and calmly and perfectly said “Now batting, shortstop, Number 2, Derek Jeter, Number Two”. My heart skipped a beat. The only voice that announces The Captain is a taped recording of “The Voice of God” (appropriately named by Reggie Jackson), Bob Sheppard their announcer for 56 seasons. But this kid did it with the style and grace of the Great One, and Yankees responded, rallying to score two runs with Fratto behind the microphone. The Yankees won the game after tearing it open a few innings later. HOPE WEEK was a huge success and a tremendous community activity initiated by the Yankees. This young man’s voice and determination made me hopeful. It is a moment he will remember and I will likely never forget.
In centerfield next to the huge screen is a very imposing picture of The Boss with an inscription below. George Steinbrenner as a partial owner purchased the Yankees from CBS during a time when it was difficult to say you were a fan. But for the next 37 years he hired, fired, rehired, fired, and took a hands on approach like no one before him and most likely no one after him, Al Davis aside. The Yankees were dragged up by their stir-ups to their rightful position at the top of the standings
July 11, 2010, Bob Sheppard passed away. The Voice of God (in the stadium) was silenced forever. Two days later, The Boss left us to negotiate with the big guy. In three day’s time two legendary voices of the New York Yankees were silenced.
My son told me on the day that George passed that he, George, waited until Mr. Sheppard passed so that If The Boss is allowed to pass through the Pearly Gates he will be announced with the grace and dignity that he deserves. To both, Bless you and Thanks for the memories.
jazzbus@gmail.com
Yankee Stadium or Yankee Stadium East as I prefer to call the HOUSE THAT GEORGE BUILT is an awe inspiring structure. Beautiful as the new place is I still miss the old hallowed grounds where I spent many a day and night. New centerfield never had the grace of Number 7 running around, Thurman behind its plate, and Bob Murcer never tipped his cap from this dugout.
I took the train in for an afternoon game against The Tigers recently Accompanied by a Met fan who only a few nights before had his first experience at CitiField (Irish Night). Needless to say he liked “The New Shea” even though his beloved Mets lost (again), but was blown away by Stadium East.
My sojourn to Stadium East coincided with Yankees Hope Week, and on this particular day the Yankees celebrated the accomplishment of The Beautiful People and highlighted certain children from the organization. A young Down syndrome boy threw out the first ball accompanied by his proud parents. All stood together during Our National Anthem. But to me the most impressive part of the day was when the Public Address System was turned over to another young man to announce each of the Yankees players. Sixteen-year-old Daniel Fratto born with severe combined immune deficiency syndrome that requires him to wheel a portable oxygen tank around might have found his calling as the new public address announcer.
Yankee Stadium voice Paul Olden who to me is as boring as can be thankfully stepped aside to allow the youngster announce the Bombers in the home half of the fourth inning. Shown on the huge screen in centerfield it was obvious that young Dan was nervous but determined. With oxygen tubes visible he took a deep breath and calmly and perfectly said “Now batting, shortstop, Number 2, Derek Jeter, Number Two”. My heart skipped a beat. The only voice that announces The Captain is a taped recording of “The Voice of God” (appropriately named by Reggie Jackson), Bob Sheppard their announcer for 56 seasons. But this kid did it with the style and grace of the Great One, and Yankees responded, rallying to score two runs with Fratto behind the microphone. The Yankees won the game after tearing it open a few innings later. HOPE WEEK was a huge success and a tremendous community activity initiated by the Yankees. This young man’s voice and determination made me hopeful. It is a moment he will remember and I will likely never forget.
In centerfield next to the huge screen is a very imposing picture of The Boss with an inscription below. George Steinbrenner as a partial owner purchased the Yankees from CBS during a time when it was difficult to say you were a fan. But for the next 37 years he hired, fired, rehired, fired, and took a hands on approach like no one before him and most likely no one after him, Al Davis aside. The Yankees were dragged up by their stir-ups to their rightful position at the top of the standings
July 11, 2010, Bob Sheppard passed away. The Voice of God (in the stadium) was silenced forever. Two days later, The Boss left us to negotiate with the big guy. In three day’s time two legendary voices of the New York Yankees were silenced.
My son told me on the day that George passed that he, George, waited until Mr. Sheppard passed so that If The Boss is allowed to pass through the Pearly Gates he will be announced with the grace and dignity that he deserves. To both, Bless you and Thanks for the memories.
jazzbus@gmail.com
Monday, August 23, 2010
Gov't Mule
The Jazz Bus: My Aching Back/Gov’t Mule
Just shy of sixty and sometimes I dread going out. Not me going out socially but my back going out physically. Music is my hobby, my thrill. I attempt to get out as much as I can for the sake of expanding my musical horizons. During my youth I visited local places like Hullabaloo in Lindenhurst, Ubie’s OTJ in West Islip, and the Action House in Island Park. These Long Island clubs were quite different from my usual New York City haunts like Ungano’s, The Village Gate, The Garrick, Wollman Skating Rink in Central Park and the Fillmore East. The difference was the Long Island spots were basically asking you to stand up to watch the performers, while NYC was a more comfortable seated venue. I preface this because in 2010 I find it very difficult to stand in a crowded facility for four hours at a pop. It is never the crowd but rather my back being the problem.
Lately, I have to turn down a few invitations from my collection of friends who are music enthusiasts because I am at the beck and call of my back. First question I ask, “Is it reserved seating?” followed by, “How much?” If the first is a “yes” I am usually in. Sometimes, if it is “standing “ I am reluctant but I’ll take a chance. A few times I regretted the decision. Now, I am overly cautious. Sitting down with a few “diet cokes” is so much easier than standing and listening. Being shorter than most doesn’t help either.
Warren Haynes with his band Gov’t Mule, and I crossed paths the other night. Mule was playing in a club not too far from where I was, and for only 25 bucks. I thought at this price it would be well worth the price of admission. So off I went with my bride by my side, a standing room only club. On the tail of the band’s eighth album Mule, now a quartet, can rock with the best. Playing his 58 Reissue Les Paul and a Gibson Firebird, Warren switched back and forth playing standard tune electric and one of the meanest slide guitars on the planet. Rated #23 Best Guitarists by Rolling Stone magazine, he led his band through most of the new collection BY A THREAD with a few unique covers thrown in.
My buddy Pat states Warren Haynes is THE HARDEST WORKING MAN IN MUSIC. His credentials for that world class title include constant touring and recording with Gov’t Mule, being a featured guitarist with The Allman Brothers Band (since 1989), touring with The Dead as replacement (if that is possible) for Jerry Garcia, joining up with Phil Lesh and Friends, as well as his many solo acoustic performances with guest spots here and there. Armed with a soaring guitar and with a voice full of emotion, deep, soulful, and melodic, one can only think of an Otis Redding or Wilson Pickett towering over a Gibson guitar. After the two set, four hour show, I walked to my car satisfied, standing tall and proud. No back ache. Anyone “up” for a show? Terry Reid @ Mirabelle’s in Westbury?
Jazzbus@gmail.com
Just shy of sixty and sometimes I dread going out. Not me going out socially but my back going out physically. Music is my hobby, my thrill. I attempt to get out as much as I can for the sake of expanding my musical horizons. During my youth I visited local places like Hullabaloo in Lindenhurst, Ubie’s OTJ in West Islip, and the Action House in Island Park. These Long Island clubs were quite different from my usual New York City haunts like Ungano’s, The Village Gate, The Garrick, Wollman Skating Rink in Central Park and the Fillmore East. The difference was the Long Island spots were basically asking you to stand up to watch the performers, while NYC was a more comfortable seated venue. I preface this because in 2010 I find it very difficult to stand in a crowded facility for four hours at a pop. It is never the crowd but rather my back being the problem.
Lately, I have to turn down a few invitations from my collection of friends who are music enthusiasts because I am at the beck and call of my back. First question I ask, “Is it reserved seating?” followed by, “How much?” If the first is a “yes” I am usually in. Sometimes, if it is “standing “ I am reluctant but I’ll take a chance. A few times I regretted the decision. Now, I am overly cautious. Sitting down with a few “diet cokes” is so much easier than standing and listening. Being shorter than most doesn’t help either.
Warren Haynes with his band Gov’t Mule, and I crossed paths the other night. Mule was playing in a club not too far from where I was, and for only 25 bucks. I thought at this price it would be well worth the price of admission. So off I went with my bride by my side, a standing room only club. On the tail of the band’s eighth album Mule, now a quartet, can rock with the best. Playing his 58 Reissue Les Paul and a Gibson Firebird, Warren switched back and forth playing standard tune electric and one of the meanest slide guitars on the planet. Rated #23 Best Guitarists by Rolling Stone magazine, he led his band through most of the new collection BY A THREAD with a few unique covers thrown in.
My buddy Pat states Warren Haynes is THE HARDEST WORKING MAN IN MUSIC. His credentials for that world class title include constant touring and recording with Gov’t Mule, being a featured guitarist with The Allman Brothers Band (since 1989), touring with The Dead as replacement (if that is possible) for Jerry Garcia, joining up with Phil Lesh and Friends, as well as his many solo acoustic performances with guest spots here and there. Armed with a soaring guitar and with a voice full of emotion, deep, soulful, and melodic, one can only think of an Otis Redding or Wilson Pickett towering over a Gibson guitar. After the two set, four hour show, I walked to my car satisfied, standing tall and proud. No back ache. Anyone “up” for a show? Terry Reid @ Mirabelle’s in Westbury?
Jazzbus@gmail.com
Flying With Maggots
The Jazz Bus: Flying with Maggots
Sounds like a great name for an album title, FLYING WITH MAGGOTS. The band is breaking up, we are on our last tour and actually despise each other. Yes, an apropos name. But no, not a joke or an album name but rather a true headline. Seems a passenger on a recent domestic flight got through security and brought spoiled meat onto a plane. He calmly stored it in an overhead compartment and took his seat. During the course of the flight passengers started to notice little white bugs landing on their clothes and persons.
Anyone who has flown in the last few years knows the extent of security at our airports. Off with your shoes, no lighters, oh, spoiled, rotten, smelly meat,” go ahead, aisle 6 seat c, and sir, May I store your package overhead for you?” Ah, but the plane has oversubscribed with extra carry-ons, so it (the spoiled meat) will not be directly over the culprit who brought it. Rather, it will be over some unsuspecting patron.
But the story got better. The moron who brought the meat onboard gets removed from the plane, placed on another airline and flown to his destination in short order, while the other passengers remained on the plane ,waited for the overhead to be cleaned and then they were flown, delayed by many hours, on the same but now cleaned plane to their destination. After arriving at their destination the plane was then taken out of service and fumigated, finally. Social justice would have been to let one of the passengers take the maggot infested meat and force feed the maggot who brought it on to the plane. John DiScala, a travel blogger known as Johnny Jet, said that the airline can't be blamed for this one. No kidding. It was stupidity.
Now a Jet Blue flight attendant, Steven Slater loses it, cursed out passengers over the PA, pulls the emergency exit chute chord, grabs a few beers, jumps out the plane and runs across the tarmac heading home. That is one of the best ways to state, “I quit”. All because some passenger got him upset by not follow instructions, grabbing his overhead luggage while the plane was still moving and hitting Stevie in the head with the bag causing a gash. Cool, way to go, Steven. I know how you feel, the airlines are the new Disneyland and I am only an occasion rider. Sitting on an overcrowded plane, next to someone’s kids with his brother directly behind you, with Mom and Dad sipping Bloody Mary’s many seats away paying no attention to their hyperactive kids next to me or kicking my upright seat. My overhead bag is stored rows away from me because this family brought their entire clothes and toy collection in their carry-ons and they were seated first because they “have little ones” as Mama requested. This poor flight attendant, Steven Slater, could face seven years for criminal charges while the passenger, scot free. Hmmm.
Jazzbus@gmail.com
Sounds like a great name for an album title, FLYING WITH MAGGOTS. The band is breaking up, we are on our last tour and actually despise each other. Yes, an apropos name. But no, not a joke or an album name but rather a true headline. Seems a passenger on a recent domestic flight got through security and brought spoiled meat onto a plane. He calmly stored it in an overhead compartment and took his seat. During the course of the flight passengers started to notice little white bugs landing on their clothes and persons.
Anyone who has flown in the last few years knows the extent of security at our airports. Off with your shoes, no lighters, oh, spoiled, rotten, smelly meat,” go ahead, aisle 6 seat c, and sir, May I store your package overhead for you?” Ah, but the plane has oversubscribed with extra carry-ons, so it (the spoiled meat) will not be directly over the culprit who brought it. Rather, it will be over some unsuspecting patron.
But the story got better. The moron who brought the meat onboard gets removed from the plane, placed on another airline and flown to his destination in short order, while the other passengers remained on the plane ,waited for the overhead to be cleaned and then they were flown, delayed by many hours, on the same but now cleaned plane to their destination. After arriving at their destination the plane was then taken out of service and fumigated, finally. Social justice would have been to let one of the passengers take the maggot infested meat and force feed the maggot who brought it on to the plane. John DiScala, a travel blogger known as Johnny Jet, said that the airline can't be blamed for this one. No kidding. It was stupidity.
Now a Jet Blue flight attendant, Steven Slater loses it, cursed out passengers over the PA, pulls the emergency exit chute chord, grabs a few beers, jumps out the plane and runs across the tarmac heading home. That is one of the best ways to state, “I quit”. All because some passenger got him upset by not follow instructions, grabbing his overhead luggage while the plane was still moving and hitting Stevie in the head with the bag causing a gash. Cool, way to go, Steven. I know how you feel, the airlines are the new Disneyland and I am only an occasion rider. Sitting on an overcrowded plane, next to someone’s kids with his brother directly behind you, with Mom and Dad sipping Bloody Mary’s many seats away paying no attention to their hyperactive kids next to me or kicking my upright seat. My overhead bag is stored rows away from me because this family brought their entire clothes and toy collection in their carry-ons and they were seated first because they “have little ones” as Mama requested. This poor flight attendant, Steven Slater, could face seven years for criminal charges while the passenger, scot free. Hmmm.
Jazzbus@gmail.com
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Whew, been away awhile...
Spent the last few weeks south of the Mason-Dixon line. Had plenty of time to read and play my guitar. The reading was basically research; three books on The Beatles, all technical in nature and very informative, sometimes too informative. Information I either had forgotten or tried to suppress.One book of note YOU NEVER GIVE ME YOUR MONEY...give it a shot if you are interested in the money side of The Fab Four.
Finally got around to reading The Dragon Tattoo, now I have the other two of the trilogy on my shelf.I see what all the fuss is about, finding the right actress to play The Girl.
Got a chance to see Gov't Mule, two smoking sets in a 5000 standing room only hall. Warren Haynes proves to be outstanding. More on that next time out.
Finally got around to reading The Dragon Tattoo, now I have the other two of the trilogy on my shelf.I see what all the fuss is about, finding the right actress to play The Girl.
Got a chance to see Gov't Mule, two smoking sets in a 5000 standing room only hall. Warren Haynes proves to be outstanding. More on that next time out.
RIP Abbey Lincoln
Taken from the news service:
One of jazz music's most prolific voices over the past half century, has gone silent.
Singer-songwriter Abbey Lincoln died Saturday, Aug. 14. She was 80.
While not as well-known as her contemporaries, such as Nancy Wilson and the late Nina Simone, Lincoln was revered by jazz purists and music aficionados keyed into her phrasing, emotion and signature style.
One of jazz music's most prolific voices over the past half century, has gone silent.
Singer-songwriter Abbey Lincoln died Saturday, Aug. 14. She was 80.
While not as well-known as her contemporaries, such as Nancy Wilson and the late Nina Simone, Lincoln was revered by jazz purists and music aficionados keyed into her phrasing, emotion and signature style.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Independence Day 2010
Beautiful weather in New York town, temperature hitting the low 90's and humidity nil, skies clear and blue. What a day. Tennis is over and a minor clean up is taking place from our party last night. Time to reflect on what a great place this country is....
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Winter: The Weather not the guitarist
THE JAZZ BUS: Remembering Winter
What a winter! Thinking back to this past October, I remembered watching a local television weather person quoting from Poor Richard’s Almanac with a prediction of a very cold, snowy, few months ahead. What we on Long Island would call winter weather. Whenever weather is predicted, especially a long range forecast, I am skeptical to say the least. A weatherman only needs to be right occasionally. A fifty -fifty shot each day. Hey, I can do that and when wrong he/ she returns the next day with no penalty, no foul. But looking back to October, I guess he was correct. Next year I’ll buy an early edition of the almanac, and make my plans to be out of town if weather like this is predicted again.
Three snow storms. Blizzard style snow falls, with whipping winds and plenty of white stuff. After the first I said “nice”, now hopefully we are done for the winter. But then the second one arrived. A huge dig out. Okay, enough, I had hoped. But, no, a third. “Are you kidding me?!” Most municipalities claimed their “snow” budgets were maxed out by the end of the second storm. Schools were closed and snow days used. Roads were difficult to drive on and parking non-existent. Snow plowers and local chiropractors must have loved it.
Following all that was the rainstorm of March 13, 2010 with the merry month of May type weather on March 19th. My body was confused. Snow, rain, warmth, what next? I should not have asked. More rain, sort of like penance. A record rainfall of over 12 inches in one month. It was not even time for those April showers and yet it was soggy. Please, no more, I begged. But then the high wind gusts and rain storms from mid to end of March. My roof is blown off, siding missing and water rising in the basement faster than two sump pumps could get it out. Mementoes destroyed. Huge Tupperware style boxes somehow toppled over and filled with the rising water. Carefully stored books, records, cds, soaked, and one of my prized drums filled with water like an aquarium. The heating unit and water heater’s pilot lights were drowned out. The water table would need to subside and both units need to dry out before a relighting could take place. This would take days. At least the house was somewhat warm.
I remember snow days as a kid, anticipating the early morning radio announcement that school would be closed. Waiting patiently while the announcer read from an exhausting alphabetical listing of schools. Then, the ultimate joy. Yes, school was closed. Outside we would go, as soon as practical, building snow men, shoveling the walks, and heading through the neighborhood to help dig people out. Snow was fun, rain, not so much. But this winter we had the most snow on Long Island since 1947/48. Rainfall had to be a record also. Not fun anymore. More work than fun. But now, it is June and easy to forget the unforgettable winter of 2009-2010.
jazzbus@gmail.com
What a winter! Thinking back to this past October, I remembered watching a local television weather person quoting from Poor Richard’s Almanac with a prediction of a very cold, snowy, few months ahead. What we on Long Island would call winter weather. Whenever weather is predicted, especially a long range forecast, I am skeptical to say the least. A weatherman only needs to be right occasionally. A fifty -fifty shot each day. Hey, I can do that and when wrong he/ she returns the next day with no penalty, no foul. But looking back to October, I guess he was correct. Next year I’ll buy an early edition of the almanac, and make my plans to be out of town if weather like this is predicted again.
Three snow storms. Blizzard style snow falls, with whipping winds and plenty of white stuff. After the first I said “nice”, now hopefully we are done for the winter. But then the second one arrived. A huge dig out. Okay, enough, I had hoped. But, no, a third. “Are you kidding me?!” Most municipalities claimed their “snow” budgets were maxed out by the end of the second storm. Schools were closed and snow days used. Roads were difficult to drive on and parking non-existent. Snow plowers and local chiropractors must have loved it.
Following all that was the rainstorm of March 13, 2010 with the merry month of May type weather on March 19th. My body was confused. Snow, rain, warmth, what next? I should not have asked. More rain, sort of like penance. A record rainfall of over 12 inches in one month. It was not even time for those April showers and yet it was soggy. Please, no more, I begged. But then the high wind gusts and rain storms from mid to end of March. My roof is blown off, siding missing and water rising in the basement faster than two sump pumps could get it out. Mementoes destroyed. Huge Tupperware style boxes somehow toppled over and filled with the rising water. Carefully stored books, records, cds, soaked, and one of my prized drums filled with water like an aquarium. The heating unit and water heater’s pilot lights were drowned out. The water table would need to subside and both units need to dry out before a relighting could take place. This would take days. At least the house was somewhat warm.
I remember snow days as a kid, anticipating the early morning radio announcement that school would be closed. Waiting patiently while the announcer read from an exhausting alphabetical listing of schools. Then, the ultimate joy. Yes, school was closed. Outside we would go, as soon as practical, building snow men, shoveling the walks, and heading through the neighborhood to help dig people out. Snow was fun, rain, not so much. But this winter we had the most snow on Long Island since 1947/48. Rainfall had to be a record also. Not fun anymore. More work than fun. But now, it is June and easy to forget the unforgettable winter of 2009-2010.
jazzbus@gmail.com
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Reading and Listening
Funny how a blog written back in April will find me in June still listening to a Moby Grape collection. My condition is usually labeled Musical Attention Deficit Disorder, or MADD, a few seconds of sound and if it doesn't grab me, next track, next cd, next artist.Even friends will affectionately refer to me as "the musical snob", not for my ability to play music but rather for my tastes in music.
So had did a Moby Grape collection stay on my cd player for so long? Easy. A recent flood in my basement caused me to perform many manual duties in the dark dingy space. Clean up took two weeks,then repairs, then paint, the walls, ceiling, floors, trim. One portable cd player plugged in, and five Moby Grape albums. Plenty of time. I know all the tunes by heart. I did expand my taste this week by adding Love, the Arthur Lee fronted band of the Sixties, then threw in The Dead, and a smoking 3 cd collection from The Allman Brothers Beacon run of 2003.I didn't tempt fate by bringing down any jazz records, knowing the bride might beg me to put the radio on, and a sloppy painter am I, I didn't want to spoil one Coltrane cd jacket.
Spare time reading has been SuperFreak Economics, which I will eventually finish, and of course continuing on with the Vince Flynn series.
So had did a Moby Grape collection stay on my cd player for so long? Easy. A recent flood in my basement caused me to perform many manual duties in the dark dingy space. Clean up took two weeks,then repairs, then paint, the walls, ceiling, floors, trim. One portable cd player plugged in, and five Moby Grape albums. Plenty of time. I know all the tunes by heart. I did expand my taste this week by adding Love, the Arthur Lee fronted band of the Sixties, then threw in The Dead, and a smoking 3 cd collection from The Allman Brothers Beacon run of 2003.I didn't tempt fate by bringing down any jazz records, knowing the bride might beg me to put the radio on, and a sloppy painter am I, I didn't want to spoil one Coltrane cd jacket.
Spare time reading has been SuperFreak Economics, which I will eventually finish, and of course continuing on with the Vince Flynn series.
Hockey Soccer Basketball Baseball Golf, etc...
This time of year my television is on every night, usually, oh well, always tuned into a major sporting event. The Black Hawks have regained Lord Stanley's Cup,after a long draught, defeating the despised Broad Street Bullies of old, Philadelphia Flyers. The Hawks, clearly the better team had to fight until the last seconds against a scrappy, somewhat questionable, group of guys who fought their way up the playoff ladder to game seven.
The U.S.A. soccer team played England to a one one draw on a shaky performance of the British goalkeeper. In the blink of an eye a routine stop slithers away and ties the score. While I am keeping an eye on the box scores of this the most watched sporting event in the world, I am only rooting for our home team, and that incessant noise has got to go.
Mets, Yankees, almost perfect/imperfect games, grand slams, Strasberg, give it to me. The MLB channels are on constantly, with me wearing out the batteries on the remote by moving from one event to the next, and next, and next.
Tiger, Phil,The US OPEN. Need I say more. The press harps too much on their family lives. Cut it out already. Let's just play golf. Man versus the little white ball.While I hope Tiger makes a run at the title, and Phil is his partner on Sunday,deep down I say the trophy should go to someone else, a rising star who has no known baggage the announcers can drone on for hours at a time. Just golf this week boys.
Game seven in L.A., Lakers versus the Boston Celtics. Pretty cool. Even to those who do not like N.B.A. Basketball, this event has to draw you in. Doc Rivers, Phil Jackson, Rondo, Kobe, whew, I am tired and a bit hoarse through game six coaching both teams from my comfy chair.
So honey, I'll paint the fence next week, ah but wait, isn't it N.F.L.training camp? Maybe the next week for that fence.
The U.S.A. soccer team played England to a one one draw on a shaky performance of the British goalkeeper. In the blink of an eye a routine stop slithers away and ties the score. While I am keeping an eye on the box scores of this the most watched sporting event in the world, I am only rooting for our home team, and that incessant noise has got to go.
Mets, Yankees, almost perfect/imperfect games, grand slams, Strasberg, give it to me. The MLB channels are on constantly, with me wearing out the batteries on the remote by moving from one event to the next, and next, and next.
Tiger, Phil,The US OPEN. Need I say more. The press harps too much on their family lives. Cut it out already. Let's just play golf. Man versus the little white ball.While I hope Tiger makes a run at the title, and Phil is his partner on Sunday,deep down I say the trophy should go to someone else, a rising star who has no known baggage the announcers can drone on for hours at a time. Just golf this week boys.
Game seven in L.A., Lakers versus the Boston Celtics. Pretty cool. Even to those who do not like N.B.A. Basketball, this event has to draw you in. Doc Rivers, Phil Jackson, Rondo, Kobe, whew, I am tired and a bit hoarse through game six coaching both teams from my comfy chair.
So honey, I'll paint the fence next week, ah but wait, isn't it N.F.L.training camp? Maybe the next week for that fence.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
New Music Week of April 20
I have been listening to a live Moby Grape collection which shows the instrumental power of the band, while the vocals could have been mixed clearer. Always loved that band though.
Jimi Hendrix-Valleys of Neptune, a nice collection, good mix, and The Experience, while Buddy Miles was mainstay, almost house band at most Madison Square Garden shows in the Late 60's/ early 70's with his EXPRESS, I always perferred Mitch on the kit.
Jeff Beck-Emotion and Commotion The world's best living guitarist has his best selling collection straight out the box since his career began. Took awhile for the world to catch on.
The Beatles- Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (Deluxe Edition) This is only 4 tracks but each taken apart into 4 tracks just as the boys heard it out of the cones.Interesting, especially when listening to the lead guitar track without all the horns, strings, backgroung sounds.The studio was George Martin, the 5th Beatle.
Found a 3 cd collection of The Doors in a Case Logic, it is in the player now.
Miles Davis LIVE at Fillmore up next.
Jimi Hendrix-Valleys of Neptune, a nice collection, good mix, and The Experience, while Buddy Miles was mainstay, almost house band at most Madison Square Garden shows in the Late 60's/ early 70's with his EXPRESS, I always perferred Mitch on the kit.
Jeff Beck-Emotion and Commotion The world's best living guitarist has his best selling collection straight out the box since his career began. Took awhile for the world to catch on.
The Beatles- Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (Deluxe Edition) This is only 4 tracks but each taken apart into 4 tracks just as the boys heard it out of the cones.Interesting, especially when listening to the lead guitar track without all the horns, strings, backgroung sounds.The studio was George Martin, the 5th Beatle.
Found a 3 cd collection of The Doors in a Case Logic, it is in the player now.
Miles Davis LIVE at Fillmore up next.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Radio, Radio...
The Jazz Bus: New York Radio - No Jazz, No Country, Just….
The Jazz Bus just returned from a three week tour, traveling south throughout the eastern seaboard, mostly along I-95 and then inland. During that time, not having satellite radio in this year’s model, we were forced to listening to cds, our own singing, or the local radio. New York, while a great metropolis, has many, many radio stations. One would think that with so many stations on both the a.m. and F.M. dials that there would be many different formats available to the listener. Sadly, most New York radio stations play the same thing. For people my age it is Pink Floyd every fifteen minutes whether you need it or not, followed by Led Zeppelin. The only other viable alternative seems to be talk radio, which is no prize either.
This trip The Bus pulls out of Long Island heading to The Jersey Turnpike while listening to THE FAN, sports radio. It is amazing at 3 a.m. on this cold March Saturday morning. Most of the callers sounded a bit tired, with raised, slurred voices shouting words of admonishments for the previous caller’s ignorance, and using phrases like “being a human being, I…”.It is hilarious listening to these “experts” at that time in the early morning while driving away from New York. Almost truly comical, but actual sad when you consider this my form of entertainment.
With the signal fading out about Exit Two on the Jersey Turnpike, just before the Delaware Bridge, the need to find a new station starts me on an interesting journey through the dial. We find a jazz station or two on the left of that dial and a few country music stations throughout the remaining airwaves to the right. Hitting the expected traffic jam on the Wilson Bridge in Washington D.C. on a beautiful morning with a view that is breathtaking, we find a few more jazz stations. One in particular is playing Mingus, Ellington, and then Monk. Over the bridge into Virginia we go, as the jazz station faded away with the sounds of ALABAMA by John Coltrane. A few more spins of the dial left the jazz station behind and unveiled more country stations then you could shake a stick out of.
Interesting, this country music thing. With no country station to speak of in the greater New York area we gave it a shot. The next experiment began: Three weeks on the road, south of The Mason- Dixon Line and we would listen to nothing but country music. Now, not being a native southerner and not accustomed to “their” lingo, it took me all of the three weeks to finally get it. Today, as a newly well versed country boy, I am comfortable talking about a “Copenhagen ring on the pocket of my jeans”, and feel good about wearing my boots to church. I now know what a 30 yard six is, and am considering getting me one of those F-150’s complete with a gun rack to sport around in. All these significant items will help you make friends when you travel throughout the south. Sitting on the porch swing while drinking mama’s homemade sweet tea is a major event, better than therapy. And traveling through the back roads to the party, but that usually gets broken up when the “blue lights” arrive. Everybody there plays a “geetar”, while looking out for the gators at the fishing hole, AKA ” redneck yacht club”.
“Hey y’all” is usually a general greeting while south of the Mason-Dixon line but when said from a stage to a crowd that is proudly raising their PBR longnecks, the response back is nearly deafening. And you don’t have to be a southerner to offer it. It’s not like a secret society with their own signature greeting. Everybody will say it. Then ask the natives where you can catch some catfish or largemouth bass but be prepared for a story about “ one time that Billy Bob was hooking the big one, but it got away. Funny how most men introduce themselves with two first names or initials. Hey Y’all, I’m JP, pleased to meet ya. Southern hospitality, ain’t nothing like it.
Country music will teach you things like, “ Grandpa is always right” and you probably should have listened to him. Music is music, whatever that means. Listening to Brooks and Dunn, a band which is ending their twenty year partnership, I heard the Rolling Stones circa Exile On Main Street. But from “B and D”, dynamic duo, I learned it’s always” Beer Thirty, Honky Tonk time”, and “Life’s too short, the party’s a starting, so get to kicking, and get in line”. I now know that” Paycheck Fridays” are not traditional calendar days but are celebrated more like a national holiday, “I gave the man my 40, it’s 5 p.m. and I need a little twang”. And the juke box is always filled with Hank.
Country music in New York City and vicinity seems to be an underground thing. There are a few scattered clubs in the area and in the neighboring town of Lindenhurst regular dances with live music are sponsored monthly by the Long Island Country Music Society. Truthfully, I have been listening to country music for many years. My dad was a Johnny Cash- Buck Owens fan so we had a few country albums in the record rack. He loved to watch Johnny Cash’s television show and listening to Patsy Cline. I remember when I worked nights the boss would put on radio station WHN 1050, the only country music station during the early and mid 1970’s. “Gessie With a G”, the female announcer nightly played songs by David Allan Coe ,Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard and George Jones.
So I ask. With so many stations available on the dial, why do the playlists consist of the same thing. I gotta get me that satellite radio. I already miss “the twang”.
Note: Hank Williams is being posthumously awarded a special citation from the Pulitzer Prize Board for his "craftsmanship as a songwriter" and his "pivotal role in transforming country music into a major musical and cultural force." Williams died in 1953 at age 29. His songs have been recorded by hundreds of artists in a variety of genres.
jazzbus@gmail.com
The Jazz Bus just returned from a three week tour, traveling south throughout the eastern seaboard, mostly along I-95 and then inland. During that time, not having satellite radio in this year’s model, we were forced to listening to cds, our own singing, or the local radio. New York, while a great metropolis, has many, many radio stations. One would think that with so many stations on both the a.m. and F.M. dials that there would be many different formats available to the listener. Sadly, most New York radio stations play the same thing. For people my age it is Pink Floyd every fifteen minutes whether you need it or not, followed by Led Zeppelin. The only other viable alternative seems to be talk radio, which is no prize either.
This trip The Bus pulls out of Long Island heading to The Jersey Turnpike while listening to THE FAN, sports radio. It is amazing at 3 a.m. on this cold March Saturday morning. Most of the callers sounded a bit tired, with raised, slurred voices shouting words of admonishments for the previous caller’s ignorance, and using phrases like “being a human being, I…”.It is hilarious listening to these “experts” at that time in the early morning while driving away from New York. Almost truly comical, but actual sad when you consider this my form of entertainment.
With the signal fading out about Exit Two on the Jersey Turnpike, just before the Delaware Bridge, the need to find a new station starts me on an interesting journey through the dial. We find a jazz station or two on the left of that dial and a few country music stations throughout the remaining airwaves to the right. Hitting the expected traffic jam on the Wilson Bridge in Washington D.C. on a beautiful morning with a view that is breathtaking, we find a few more jazz stations. One in particular is playing Mingus, Ellington, and then Monk. Over the bridge into Virginia we go, as the jazz station faded away with the sounds of ALABAMA by John Coltrane. A few more spins of the dial left the jazz station behind and unveiled more country stations then you could shake a stick out of.
Interesting, this country music thing. With no country station to speak of in the greater New York area we gave it a shot. The next experiment began: Three weeks on the road, south of The Mason- Dixon Line and we would listen to nothing but country music. Now, not being a native southerner and not accustomed to “their” lingo, it took me all of the three weeks to finally get it. Today, as a newly well versed country boy, I am comfortable talking about a “Copenhagen ring on the pocket of my jeans”, and feel good about wearing my boots to church. I now know what a 30 yard six is, and am considering getting me one of those F-150’s complete with a gun rack to sport around in. All these significant items will help you make friends when you travel throughout the south. Sitting on the porch swing while drinking mama’s homemade sweet tea is a major event, better than therapy. And traveling through the back roads to the party, but that usually gets broken up when the “blue lights” arrive. Everybody there plays a “geetar”, while looking out for the gators at the fishing hole, AKA ” redneck yacht club”.
“Hey y’all” is usually a general greeting while south of the Mason-Dixon line but when said from a stage to a crowd that is proudly raising their PBR longnecks, the response back is nearly deafening. And you don’t have to be a southerner to offer it. It’s not like a secret society with their own signature greeting. Everybody will say it. Then ask the natives where you can catch some catfish or largemouth bass but be prepared for a story about “ one time that Billy Bob was hooking the big one, but it got away. Funny how most men introduce themselves with two first names or initials. Hey Y’all, I’m JP, pleased to meet ya. Southern hospitality, ain’t nothing like it.
Country music will teach you things like, “ Grandpa is always right” and you probably should have listened to him. Music is music, whatever that means. Listening to Brooks and Dunn, a band which is ending their twenty year partnership, I heard the Rolling Stones circa Exile On Main Street. But from “B and D”, dynamic duo, I learned it’s always” Beer Thirty, Honky Tonk time”, and “Life’s too short, the party’s a starting, so get to kicking, and get in line”. I now know that” Paycheck Fridays” are not traditional calendar days but are celebrated more like a national holiday, “I gave the man my 40, it’s 5 p.m. and I need a little twang”. And the juke box is always filled with Hank.
Country music in New York City and vicinity seems to be an underground thing. There are a few scattered clubs in the area and in the neighboring town of Lindenhurst regular dances with live music are sponsored monthly by the Long Island Country Music Society. Truthfully, I have been listening to country music for many years. My dad was a Johnny Cash- Buck Owens fan so we had a few country albums in the record rack. He loved to watch Johnny Cash’s television show and listening to Patsy Cline. I remember when I worked nights the boss would put on radio station WHN 1050, the only country music station during the early and mid 1970’s. “Gessie With a G”, the female announcer nightly played songs by David Allan Coe ,Willie Nelson, Merle Haggard and George Jones.
So I ask. With so many stations available on the dial, why do the playlists consist of the same thing. I gotta get me that satellite radio. I already miss “the twang”.
Note: Hank Williams is being posthumously awarded a special citation from the Pulitzer Prize Board for his "craftsmanship as a songwriter" and his "pivotal role in transforming country music into a major musical and cultural force." Williams died in 1953 at age 29. His songs have been recorded by hundreds of artists in a variety of genres.
jazzbus@gmail.com
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
The 60's and 70's, again?
This week the cover of Rolling Stone magazine has a photo of Jimi Hendrix with a review of his "newest" release, which I might add is reminiscent of his work with The Experience. Followed by the death of Alex Chilton (see previous post), and the opening of the Runaways movie, these three events save us from Justin Bieber and that ilk.
Also, after a viewing last week on PBS, The T.A.M.I. Show has been restored and released in all it's glory. Pick it up if just for James Brown's smokin' set. Well worth the twenty bucks.
Also, after a viewing last week on PBS, The T.A.M.I. Show has been restored and released in all it's glory. Pick it up if just for James Brown's smokin' set. Well worth the twenty bucks.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Alex Chilton
Today, Alex Chilton died. Legendary vocalist of The Box Tops, Big Star, and numerous solo ventures, at age 59, way too young to leave us. Imagine, at age 16, he was an internaional star of what some say was a two hit wonder, The Box Tops.Great soulful voice.
"In my opinion, Alex was the most talented triple threat musician out of Memphis -- and that's saying a ton," said Replacements frontman Paul Westerberg. "His versatility at soulful singing, pop-rock songwriting, master of the folk idiom, and his delving into the avant garde, goes without equal. He was also a hell of a guitar player and a great guy."
"In my opinion, Alex was the most talented triple threat musician out of Memphis -- and that's saying a ton," said Replacements frontman Paul Westerberg. "His versatility at soulful singing, pop-rock songwriting, master of the folk idiom, and his delving into the avant garde, goes without equal. He was also a hell of a guitar player and a great guy."
Monday, March 15, 2010
Throughout the years and throughout New York City
Allman Brothers Band: Throughout The Years and Throughout New York City
My journey as a fan of the Allman Brothers Band began on a cold March night in 1971. Awaiting the arrival of a friend I stood among a throng of people on the corner of Second Avenue and Sixth Street. In my pocket I was holding two tickets for the Johnny Winter late show at Fillmore East. It was a few minutes before eight, and he was late as we were to have met an hour ago to get a bite to eat. As the early show ticker holders slowly moved into the theatre, a guy whom I never saw before walked over to me and asked if I wanted his spare ticket for the early show. With my friend was nowhere in sight, and I was cold, I took him up on his offer, pocketed the ticket, but remained outside in hopes of seeing my friend show up. At 8:30, now extremely cold, and with no crowd outside, I entered into the building. Ticket torn in half by the usher, and with program in my hand I walked to the upper balcony where I would sit. The opening act, The Elvin Bishop Group, was ending and the intermission with equipment exchange was starting to take place.
Walls of amplifiers, a Hammond B-3 organ and TWO sets of drums were taking their place on the stage. While a black and white cartoon played over the big screen behind the equipment, I could hear the sounds of guitars tuning up. The house lights still dimmed and with the cartoon now over, a single spotlight hit the stage and a simple announcement was made, “Ladies and gentlemen, The Allman Brothers Band”. Not the headliners for that night but after playing for a bit over an hour, you could have fooled me.
After the first show ended, I finally met up with my friend. It was about 11:15 p.m. and he was a bit angry that I had taking the opportunity to see the first show leaving him alone and out in the cold. After he calmed down, we went to get something to eat. Sitting in the pizza shop across the street I told him about this incredible band I just saw. While at first he did not believe me, he was there to see Johnny Winter; he changed his allegiance by 6:30 a.m. when we left the late show. The late show started late at about midnight, with the first act being cut short by a bomb scare. The entire audience had to vacate the venue and then reenter. By 2 a.m. we were back in our seats entertained by a very short set from Johnny Winter. Confused, I thought, due to the time and the scare, the “Brothers” would be cancelled. How wrong I was.
Same cartoon, same equipment, and then “thanks for waiting, we will make it up to those still here”. A different voice, no spotlight, and now a “1, 2, 3...” Statesboro Blues. Whew, the sun was coming up when we left the theatre.
A few months later I got to see the band close out the Fillmore East. The late show Saturday night was an amazing, marathon show. Again, a few weeks later at Central Park’s Wollman Skating Rink, and a few nights after that at The Manhattan Ballroom. The Academy of Music on 14th Street hosted the band a few times after the Fillmore closed .And after the Fillmore album was released but with the tragedy of losing one of the founders, Duane Allman, I saw the band at Madison Square Garden. Over the years with numerous personnel changes “the Brothers” have traveled all over Manhattan:, from Radio City Music Hall, The Beacon Theater, and now to the United Palace Theater in Washington Heights. Each year they play since 1971, I faithfully hand over my cash for a ticket and each time the lights are dimmed I am not disappointed.
Celebrating their 41st years together, The Brothers hit the stage this past Saturday night, with some changes in personnel over the many years, but still with that unmistakable sound known as The Allman Brothers Band.
My journey as a fan of the Allman Brothers Band began on a cold March night in 1971. Awaiting the arrival of a friend I stood among a throng of people on the corner of Second Avenue and Sixth Street. In my pocket I was holding two tickets for the Johnny Winter late show at Fillmore East. It was a few minutes before eight, and he was late as we were to have met an hour ago to get a bite to eat. As the early show ticker holders slowly moved into the theatre, a guy whom I never saw before walked over to me and asked if I wanted his spare ticket for the early show. With my friend was nowhere in sight, and I was cold, I took him up on his offer, pocketed the ticket, but remained outside in hopes of seeing my friend show up. At 8:30, now extremely cold, and with no crowd outside, I entered into the building. Ticket torn in half by the usher, and with program in my hand I walked to the upper balcony where I would sit. The opening act, The Elvin Bishop Group, was ending and the intermission with equipment exchange was starting to take place.
Walls of amplifiers, a Hammond B-3 organ and TWO sets of drums were taking their place on the stage. While a black and white cartoon played over the big screen behind the equipment, I could hear the sounds of guitars tuning up. The house lights still dimmed and with the cartoon now over, a single spotlight hit the stage and a simple announcement was made, “Ladies and gentlemen, The Allman Brothers Band”. Not the headliners for that night but after playing for a bit over an hour, you could have fooled me.
After the first show ended, I finally met up with my friend. It was about 11:15 p.m. and he was a bit angry that I had taking the opportunity to see the first show leaving him alone and out in the cold. After he calmed down, we went to get something to eat. Sitting in the pizza shop across the street I told him about this incredible band I just saw. While at first he did not believe me, he was there to see Johnny Winter; he changed his allegiance by 6:30 a.m. when we left the late show. The late show started late at about midnight, with the first act being cut short by a bomb scare. The entire audience had to vacate the venue and then reenter. By 2 a.m. we were back in our seats entertained by a very short set from Johnny Winter. Confused, I thought, due to the time and the scare, the “Brothers” would be cancelled. How wrong I was.
Same cartoon, same equipment, and then “thanks for waiting, we will make it up to those still here”. A different voice, no spotlight, and now a “1, 2, 3...” Statesboro Blues. Whew, the sun was coming up when we left the theatre.
A few months later I got to see the band close out the Fillmore East. The late show Saturday night was an amazing, marathon show. Again, a few weeks later at Central Park’s Wollman Skating Rink, and a few nights after that at The Manhattan Ballroom. The Academy of Music on 14th Street hosted the band a few times after the Fillmore closed .And after the Fillmore album was released but with the tragedy of losing one of the founders, Duane Allman, I saw the band at Madison Square Garden. Over the years with numerous personnel changes “the Brothers” have traveled all over Manhattan:, from Radio City Music Hall, The Beacon Theater, and now to the United Palace Theater in Washington Heights. Each year they play since 1971, I faithfully hand over my cash for a ticket and each time the lights are dimmed I am not disappointed.
Celebrating their 41st years together, The Brothers hit the stage this past Saturday night, with some changes in personnel over the many years, but still with that unmistakable sound known as The Allman Brothers Band.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Sat Night at The United Palace with The Allman Brothers Band
What an adventure!
Moving from The Beacon to the Palace was a change of venue but the same vibe existed as with most Brothers shows. However, the A Train to the theatre from The Villagewas halted due to the storm and a $30.00 cab ride was necessitated. Did take the A train home. The theatre is very conviently located with a huge NYPD presence to assist anyone needing directions.Oh yea, The brothers were hot.
Set 1) Done Somebody Wrong>>Aint Wasting Time No More>>Stand Back>>Hoochie Coochie Man>>Heart Of Stone>>Bag End>>Good Morning Little School Girl>>Whipping Post
3/13/10 Set 2) Little Martha>Blue Sky>Little Martha>>Dreams (Warren Solo)>>No One Left To Run With>>Sky Is Crying w/Bruce Katz>>In Memory Of Elizabeth Reed w/Bruce Katz>Oteil Jam>JaBuMaOt>In Memory Of Elizabeth Reed. E) One Way Out
Moving from The Beacon to the Palace was a change of venue but the same vibe existed as with most Brothers shows. However, the A Train to the theatre from The Villagewas halted due to the storm and a $30.00 cab ride was necessitated. Did take the A train home. The theatre is very conviently located with a huge NYPD presence to assist anyone needing directions.Oh yea, The brothers were hot.
Set 1) Done Somebody Wrong>>Aint Wasting Time No More>>Stand Back>>Hoochie Coochie Man>>Heart Of Stone>>Bag End>>Good Morning Little School Girl>>Whipping Post
3/13/10 Set 2) Little Martha>Blue Sky>Little Martha>>Dreams (Warren Solo)>>No One Left To Run With>>Sky Is Crying w/Bruce Katz>>In Memory Of Elizabeth Reed w/Bruce Katz>Oteil Jam>JaBuMaOt>In Memory Of Elizabeth Reed. E) One Way Out
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Allman's Set List for Friday Night.
Looking forward to the annual March Madness as The Brothers hit the United Palace stage tonight. Last night's setlist:
Allman Brothers Band
March 12, 2010
United Palace
New York, NY
Set 1: Don’t Want You No More > It’s Not My Cross To Bear, You Don’t Love Me, Midnight Rider, Who’s Been Talking, Trouble No More, Blind Willie McTell (Bob Dylan), Egypt, Guilded Splinters, Woman Across The River
Set 2: Coming Home*, Lost Lover Blues*, Revival, All My Friends, Leave My Blues at Home > Oteil Jam > JaBuMa > Mountain Jam > Smokestack Lightning > Mountain Jam
Encore: Southbound*
* – w/ Susan Tedeschi
OPENING NIGHT (Thursday) Set List
Set 1
Dont Keep Me Wonderin>>
Hot Lanta>>
Statesboro Blues>>
Thats What Love Will Make You Do>>
No One Left To Run With>>
Desdemona>>
Every Hungry Woman>>
And It Stoned Me>>
Kind Of Bird
Set Two:
Melissa>>
Aint No Love>>
Come And Go Blues>>
Rocking Horse>Little Martha Tease> Jam>Rocking Horse
>>Black Hearted Woman>Oteil Jam>JaBuMaOt>>Black Hearted Woman>>
Jessica>Blue Sky Tease>Jessica
Closer:
Preachin' Blues (Warren & Derek)
One Way Out
Allman Brothers Band
March 12, 2010
United Palace
New York, NY
Set 1: Don’t Want You No More > It’s Not My Cross To Bear, You Don’t Love Me, Midnight Rider, Who’s Been Talking, Trouble No More, Blind Willie McTell (Bob Dylan), Egypt, Guilded Splinters, Woman Across The River
Set 2: Coming Home*, Lost Lover Blues*, Revival, All My Friends, Leave My Blues at Home > Oteil Jam > JaBuMa > Mountain Jam > Smokestack Lightning > Mountain Jam
Encore: Southbound*
* – w/ Susan Tedeschi
OPENING NIGHT (Thursday) Set List
Set 1
Dont Keep Me Wonderin>>
Hot Lanta>>
Statesboro Blues>>
Thats What Love Will Make You Do>>
No One Left To Run With>>
Desdemona>>
Every Hungry Woman>>
And It Stoned Me>>
Kind Of Bird
Set Two:
Melissa>>
Aint No Love>>
Come And Go Blues>>
Rocking Horse>Little Martha Tease> Jam>Rocking Horse
>>Black Hearted Woman>Oteil Jam>JaBuMaOt>>Black Hearted Woman>>
Jessica>Blue Sky Tease>Jessica
Closer:
Preachin' Blues (Warren & Derek)
One Way Out
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Allman Brothers Band
Saw the ABB on Jimmy Fallon last night, a shortened version of WHIPPING POST was performed. Looking forward to one of the 8 scheduled dates at the United Palace.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Ray Davies Khoral Kollection
Got Ray's newest the other night and haven't finished listening to all the tracks yet but it is interesting to say the least. Any thoughts?
Friday, March 5, 2010
Jamie Cullum
This past Tuesday I downloaded the long awaited new release from the young jazzier piano player and crooner Jamie Cullum. Listed as THE ONE MAN BRITISH INVASION, Jamie and his band hit the stage of Town Hall in NYC last night. After a decent set by Imelda May, who is no slouch vocally herself, Jamie entered to thunderous applause.He led his guys through the ropes with no specific play list, play what he felt is the way he described it. He really appreciated his band mates for he introduced them each by name 3 times, and each time a solo was undertaken. Long on jams and improvs, Jaime displayed his outstanding piano playing, while the vocals sometimes sounded like a guy who smoked 3 packs of Luckies, which is not necessarily a bad thing.
Funny story about him hitting the news stand,picking up a copy of TIME OUT to see their recommendations for shows this week. He sees JAIME CULLUM: TOWN HALL SOLD OUT, a proudly reads the short synopsis to his band mates " Jaime Cullum is a cross between the worst aspects of Harry Connick and Billy Joel". Oh well, he does have a great sense of humor.
Funny story about him hitting the news stand,picking up a copy of TIME OUT to see their recommendations for shows this week. He sees JAIME CULLUM: TOWN HALL SOLD OUT, a proudly reads the short synopsis to his band mates " Jaime Cullum is a cross between the worst aspects of Harry Connick and Billy Joel". Oh well, he does have a great sense of humor.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Ray Davies at Westbury
Saw Raymond Douglas Davies at Westbury Music Fair last Saturday night. Being part of the original British Invasion, The KinKs were and still are one of my all time favorites, so any review would be biased to say the least. An opening act, The 88, out of LA, did a short but sweet set of music very reminiscent of the early Small Faces and The Move. The quirky singer/guitarist had moves like Ray and a young Mick Jagger. A quick stage cover up with huge cloths, and two stools added to the 3/4 in the round theatre set up and Ray and his guitar, and his accompanist with an electric guitar took the stage for 90 minutes of great tunes. Mostly from the KinKs back catalogue, a few solo numbers thrown in, along with anecdotes from X-Ray, the time went quickly by. Waving goodnight, Ray reintroduced the 88 who magically reappeared and.......well, electric, You Really Got Me, Lola, and Low Budget, a wonderful way to end the evening.
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