alocispepraluger102

Fame and success in the Arts is a fickle thing. Sure, talent helps and often wins out, but it also takes luck, opportunity, and usually a string of (often accidental) right moves to make or break someone. In my business it's writers. In the field of jazz, well - think of your favorite/best local musician who isn't known outside your town and compare him to someone with a record deal. Sure, there are the Rollins/Shorter giants out there, but not always that much seperates the local bar bands from the pros with record deals. Given the crap that fills best-seller lists, movie theaters, and airwaves, it is certainly true that there is often times not much that separates the "success stories" from the wannabes. jeanie bryson comes to mind.......

awesome, bill would be a great member of this forum........

Bitches Brew by André Sant'Ánna bout midnight, Duke Ellington left his grave and sat on the tomb, observing Miles Davis' tombstone, next to his. Duke Ellington observed the full moon and drummed his fingers on the cement of the tomb. Miles Davis arrived late. Every night was the same. Miles Davis' eyes were red and he kept rubbing the callus of his upper lip on the callus of his lower lip. Duke Ellington thought that tick of Miles Davis very ugly and greeted the trumpeter: —How are you doing, Miles. —Dead, as always, Duke. Duke Ellington stared at Miles Davis and thought: —One of these days I'm going to get this kid into the band. Miles Davis also observed the full moon and said nothing. Duke Ellington thought: —He's weird, thinks too much. Miles Davis kept moving his hands as if he were pressing the valves of his trumpet. Duke Ellington asked Miles Davis: —Have you been practicing, Miles? —No, just listening. —And what do you listen to, Miles? —I listen to sequences of notes, tones, intensities. Duke Ellington thought Miles Davis' answer was too obvious and that Miles Davis could always speak with any note. So Duke Ellington said to Miles Davis: —I don't understand what you mean, Miles. —You don't have to, Duke. —But I always wanted to understand you, Miles. That music you made with the kids. Was it jazz? —Ha ha ha. Duke, you're the greatest. You don't need to be so old-fashioned. —That's not the point, Miles. And those improvisations with no harmony at all. —I'm glad you liked it, Duke. —A note without harmony becomes any note. —Ha ha ha. No, Duke. A note on its own, free of others, contains all harmonies. —You're still young, Miles. Duke Ellington and Miles Davis were silent for a few minutes. A cloud covered the full moon. Then Miles Davis told Duke Ellington: —Your harmonies were so perfect that the notes were free in them too. —You're too much of an intellectual, Miles. Music is made with the heart. —Ha ha ha. Music is made because it's fun. —Look who's talking. You who lived always depressed, in a bad mood. —Ha ha ha. Heroin, strange dreams, women. Women, Duke. —They adored us, 'eh, Miles? —Ha ha ha. —Miles? —What, Duke? —What was the name of that crazy disk of yours? The one with the kids, each going each way… there was an English guitarist, I think. —That was Bitches Brew, but we went the same way. —It doesn't matter, Miles. All I wanted to know was if Bitches meant whores, she-dogs or witches. —Ha ha ha. Excuse me, Duke. Miles Davis took a syringe out of his golden-sequined jacket, picked up a handful of soil from the ground and diluted it in the rain water that had started to fall. Duke Ellington, impassive, watched Miles Davis inject the brown liquid into a vein in the calf of his very skinny leg. Miles Davis coughed, spat to one side and said to Duke Ellington: —Rest in peace, Duke. Duke Ellington heard the sound of rain falling, the tone of the drops hitting the ground and each tomb, he heard the siren of an ambulance far away, the echo of a dog barking in a cul-de-sac, a woman's laughter, the wind, kids running down the street kicking empty cans. And he said to himself: —Tomorrow I'm going to call that kid to play in the band. (translated by Flavia M. Lobo)

Jazz bassist Fallon dies aged 90 Jazz musician Jack Fallon, who played with Ella Fitzgerald and Duke Ellington, has died at the age of 90. The bassist and fiddler played the violin on The Beatles White album and also shared a stage with Bob Hope, Marlene Dietrich and Lena Horne. Fallon, of north London, died after a long illness, his family said. Born in Ontario, Fallon moved to the UK in 1946. He set up a music agency and booked the Beatles for a concert in 1962, 8 months before their first hit. 'Nature's gentlemen' "One of nature's gentlemen, Jack was loved and respected by everyone in the music industry and will be sadly missed but fondly remembered," his family said in a statement. In his autobiography, From The Top, Fallon recalled a group of "polite and neatly dressed" young men who approached him about a possible gig. They were the Rolling Stones. Fallon continued to play until well into his eighties, when a mild stroke forced him to retire. He is survived by his children Mark and Jane. His funeral will be held on 7 June in London. Story from BBC NEWS: http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/pr/fr/-/1/hi/ente...ent/5016072.stm

new year's eve at caesars(1996?), earth, wind, and fire, with the late mrs. aloc.

William Smith Monroe September 13, 1911 - September 9, 1996 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My Introduction To Blue Grass. by Evan N. Reilly I first met Bill Monroe in person in the late 60's. It was after my band spent all our spare time listening to "Blue Grass Time" and were playing the tunes and songs from that album. I went out, with several of my then current band members, to Bill's birthday party out in New Jersey, at Tex Logan's. We got there late in the day. There was the concert down in the basement and afterwards, the Blue Grass Boys spread around the house & there was picking all over. Finally, there was only one other person left in the basement other than myself; Bill Monroe. I had my mandolin with me and asked him if he could show me some tunes, especially 'Turkey in the Straw', which was on his most current album. I had the honor of having Bill sit and play all my requests. Not just once through, but a tour of the tunes, Bill loosening up playing the classic tunes and making the mandolin sound like the old-time fiddling upon which his music is based. I was the only one treated to the attentions of Bill's mandolin. Finally, as if he demanded that I contribute, he asked "Can you play guitar?" and sent me in search of a guitar. I couldn't find one that wasn't in use, so came back to the basement without one. I had the distinct honor of having several more of my requests played, then the magic ended and the nite ended. Years later, when I was more of a master of Monroe's chosen instrument, I was on the bus with Bill and, again, had my mandolin. But I was playing tunes for him, now. I played "Bill's Dream" and a far way look came into his eyes. He said that he hadn't hear d that tune in years and asked me if he had ever told me the story about that tune. Bill then proceeded to tell me the story behind the writing of the tune; he had had a dream one night that one of his hunting dogs had fallen into an old dry well on the farm. The next day, one of the dogs did fall into a well and Bill wrote the tune to remember the event. These events are some the highlights of my relationship with Bill Monroe. I have had the opportunity to play with him on stage, as well as off-stage. Several times, he exposed the fierce, driving force of his teaching to me, putting his mandolin in my face and playing a passage until I got it right. It was as if I had been locked in his grip (and his grip is another tale) and held hostage to his musical vision. Monroe's musical legacy will be felt wherever the fiddle and banjo get together with the guitar and bass, wherever the mandolin beats out the stark, powerful outlines of Monroe's music. Monroe's music never stayed away from the themes of death and dying; he wrote many of his most powerful songs on these topics. His most moving and powerful singing was devoted to these most elemental forces. "Walls of Time", "With Body and Soul", "What Would You Give in Exchange for your Soul", "Memories of Mother and Dad" all face and discuss the ultimate reality of existence. Monroe, the artist, never left out the confrontation with, and realization of death in his music; it was the dark coloring that tinged the edges of his Blue Grass music. It made it dark and blue, but it made it powerful with its relationship to the basic elements of our existence. Monroe's music is more than just 'Hillbilly Jazz'; it goes much deeper than the instrumental virtuosity that compares to jazz. It reaches deep inside and stirs up the soul, if, as Bill said, 'You let the Blue Grass Music in your mind.' It is not a light, happy music, but embodies what the ancient Greeks called the sense of tragedy. His songs spoke of the dark places of the soul and his mandolin emphasized the dark side of his musical vision. He wrote his elegy on the mandolin: "My Last Days on Earth." His time on earth has passed and he has gone up '...to dwell with God above.' Share his music; share his memory; his soul will live on in his music. September, 10, 1996

he occasionally meanders into excessively wordy vocalists, but after all, he is a writer, and we forgive him that tiny pimple. last night was a beautiful trip into my awesome beloved west coast 50's stuff with shorty, shanky, stanny, chetty, shelly, and clarey, brookmeyer, mulliganmeyer and dozens of others as orchestrated and played by the incomparable enduring bill holman. hope you didnt miss it.....

...with a genuine love of tradition. just incredible...........

ordered a couple copies of territory band 4 from okka which doesnt seem to be available for awhile. can i sub some of these? Not sure what your question is but I have 8 copies. You could get them from me. I can't answer for Bruno/Okka. you are nessa records?

ordered a couple copies of territory band 4 from okka which doesnt seem to be available for awhile. can i sub some of these?

wishin i could find this one: Jazz Standards on Mars (ENJA Records 9327-2) -- music by Coltrane, Dolphy, Hendrix, Shorter, Coleman and Dick played by Robert Dick with the Soldier String Quartet http://www.deepdiscountcd.com/index.cfm?re...pc=063757932727 thanks!!!! have you dealt with deep..........?

wishin i could find this one: Jazz Standards on Mars (ENJA Records 9327-2) -- music by Coltrane, Dolphy, Hendrix, Shorter, Coleman and Dick played by Robert Dick with the Soldier String Quartet

from hearing this gamelin piece, i was very much surprised to learn that he is not japanese.

http://www.larrykrantz.com/rdick.htm http://www.robertdick.net/index_content.html was just captivated (thanks Alain) by gamelan, a long flute solo from his new cd photospheres.

it is, indeed, and well worth reading.

Does Anybody Here Remember Joe? By Craig M. Cortello Does anybody here remember Joe? That's the question I asked myself in May of 1994 when I learned that my hero had died. As the television show Entertainment Tonight rolled the closing credits one evening, they noted that the legendary jazz guitarist Joe Pass had passed away, while a brief clip from one of his live performances closed the show. I doubt that Mary Hart knew the magnitude of the words she read, but few of the ET viewers probably took note either. It didn't come as a complete surprise. A couple of months earlier while honeymooning in San Antonio, I learned that Joe was appearing at the Majestic Theater in town, as part of a “Guitar Summit,” a concert of four guitarists of varying styles. When we arrived, I was disappointed to find that Joe had become ill and would not be able to make that evening's performance. On the day I learned of his death, I expected to see headlines in the papers, on the news, in magazines, and on the radio. While such testimonials may have existed, they were not the prevailing stories of the day. I wanted to shout it from the rooftops. I felt as though Joe deserved a better send-off, but Joe expected nothing greater. He poked fun at today's guitarists, those who believe fingers of lightning are the only prerequisites for greatness, then quipped, “Oh well, I guess times change.” He was content to play out his years displaying his unique style of plucking out the standards of jazz, intertwining chords and solos, but always remaining true to the melody. His legacy is in his music, as his Virtuoso album is required study for any serious student of jazz guitar. I was fortunate enough to have seen him in concert 2 years prior to his death. It was a miserably rainy, cold night, but I braved the elements without reservation, slipping into the movie theater turned music club in Baton Rouge, LA known as the Varsity. I grabbed a seat at the back bar, as the event was standing room only. I sat in absolute astonishment for over an hour at a stage exhibiting only a man, a chair, an amplifier, and a guitar. Joe Pass was no ordinary guitarist. He was a pioneer - a man who defined a style of solo jazz guitar before anyone could comprehend this instrument as a featured showpiece. He then went on to perfect that style. A funny thing happened between music sets. It seems that about half of the audience attended this concert in search of inspiration, in hopes of improving their craft, (as many were musicians themselves), out of reverence to a legend, or in appreciation of jazz guitar performed at its highest level. The other half apparently came because it was the “hippest” thing in town on this evening, and they wanted to be part of the scene. Such motivation was not compelling enough to keep them around for another set, however. So I nestled into a front row seat during the break. I suppose my disbelief drove me to get a closer look, the way a magician's audience searches for trap doors, transparent strings, or cards up the sleeve. To my delight, Joe approached the stage a second time soliciting requests from the audience. I shouted “On Green Dolphin Street,” a standard from his greatest hits album, and he obliged. There were no tricks involved, simply a technique and artistry that amazed the connoisseurs who remained. I felt a sense of melancholy as I left the club that night. I couldn't help but think that somewhere tonight there were tens of thousands of fans applauding Madonna as she lip-synched her way across the stage in a stadium normally reserved for sporting events. I couldn't understand why only a couple hundred people could appreciate the beauty of this performance the way I did. Joe certainly knew. You see, Joe Pass had joked during the performance how the level of commercial success his records achieved paled in comparison to the level of critical acclaim his music enjoyed. He had lived the lesson that I would learn that night and would subsequently have reinforced many times - Artistic success is not a measure of popularity or sales or recognition. It is achieved from within, and when others see the brilliance of a true artist's efforts, the rewards while appreciated, are incidental and never a part of the creative process. In 1986, I was amazed by the brilliance of Stanley Jordan, a man who shattered the paradigms of guitar technique with his “tapping” method. I was equally appalled by the reaction of a couple of members of the audience to local Phil deGruy, the amazing opening act at Tipitina's in New Orleans on that night in October, 1986. As he played intricate tunes on his “Guitarp” (a guitar/harp hybrid of an instrument), sporadic shouts of “We want Stanley” could be heard in the audience near the end of his set. I knew Phil deserved better on this night, yet he was never flustered. He continued to display his unique talents, as he lost himself in his music, tuning out those few half-wits. He graciously smiled after each number, acknowledging the 99% of the audience that expressed their rousing appreciation of his mastery of the instrument. Perhaps the display of dedication to musical integrity in the absence of commercial success is not more prevalent in any city than in my native New Orleans. An environment exists there that breeds musical brilliance in great numbers, and dooms these talents to oblivion, unless they take their performance elsewhere. Dozens have left because they failed to fill seedy night clubs for a two drink minimum, only to return with the “Crescent City's Own” label, as their newfound acclaim helps them fill auditoriums in the town that once doomed them to almost certain obscurity. Of course, many great musicians in New Orleans and elsewhere do not thrive on commercial success, content to wallow in relative obscurity. Still, they pour out their emotions in their music for anyone willing to listen, no matter the numbers. They, like Joe, are my heroes as well. One common thread exists--their popularity (or lack thereof) hasn't defined their music. The effort to perfect their artistry is the engine that drives the train. They don't shun the spotlight, but they won't compromise their music to attain it. As pianist/songwriter Bob Dorough (Grammar Rock famed songwriter) once sang, “Their Boogie-Woogie can't grow stale, because it's never been for sale.” It's been 12 years since the death of Joe Pass. Every year when spring approaches, I am reminded of the anticipation of that encore performance of Joe Pass that never was, and the lack of notoriety of his subsequent passing. I believe that the best way to pay tribute to his memory is to always applaud the musician in the night club, on the street, or in the hotel bar. By dropping a dollar in the tip jar or telling the piano player his music made my evening more enjoyable, I can do more to further the interests of the music profession than I can by plunking down $20 on the latest Top 40 CD. And in post-Katrina New Orleans, support of the music community is more important than ever. As a guitarist who occasionally sits in with various performers around the city, I have tried to remember the lessons I learned from Mr. Pass. I always try not to lose the melody in the performance, and I will always remember Joe.

you have a beautiful blog. i will look dorward to it daily.

Not 80 , but rather , 74 ; Bob was born in Los Angeles in 1932 . I only have his Carlton side and would like to hear the Liberty session from the mid-Sixties . Lazaro's show does not stream live on the web , is that correct ? here is the blue lake stream for windows. there will be 2 links to players. use the second player(the bottom one) for a solid stream. http://bluelake.ncats.net/

thanks

http://www.mamajazz.org/pages/bioflorence.html

he occasionally meanders into excessively wordy vocalists, but after all, he is a writer, and we forgive him that tiny pimple.

bell's stouts

Probably an interesting book, and some of the problems the reviewer sites may not bother me as much as it does bother him. . . . I agree that she's undervalued today. her musicality is without question. love her 'lee sings, sinatra conducts' torchers........

http://www.savagesound.com/gallery01.htm

he's just the best damn reed man on the planet. congrats, laz! those years go by much too fast. drink them in deeply. aloc