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
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
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.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
