alocispepraluger102

I'll disagree, but respectfully so. The editing and the mix/EQ-ing are piss-poor, however. I agree--I've always found it enjoyable, but it's certainly devoid of the fireworks immanent to the Impulse! material (or even the BYG and America stuff). It's interesting to catalogue the devolution of Shepp's revolutionary rhetoric at this juncture--the sentiments are the same, but the music is not. Regardless, the band is top notch and the material--for what it is--is played quite well. Not a favorite, but not bad by any means. i lean toward the magic of ju-ju with that great intensity and 5 or 6 drummers. i am also very partial to his relatively recent billie holiday duo with mal...

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/business/53202.stm

beuatiful. how about a willis conover show someday. nightlights could do a month on dear willis, and his class and fine taste.

i have loved the big broadcast for 20 years. it complements my punk jazz tastes. ...now on till midnight eastern. beautifully paced and organized. gorgeous gorgeous music. http://www.wfuv.org/stream.html

if you loved that one, 'i thought about you' from affinities is reason enough to purchase the whole cd.

great news! thanks!

The price of 'disrespecting' women -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- SHMULEY BOTEACH , THE JERUSALEM POST May. 4, 2006 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The story of the alleged rape by the Duke Lacrosse team of an African-American woman who worked part-time as an exotic dancer, which so shocked American sensibilities, barely raised an eyebrow with me. You see, I served for 11 years as rabbi at another elite university and witnessed firsthand the growing misogyny that has become a central staple of university life. Even when the police released the e-mail that was sent out at 1:58 a.m., directly after the alleged rape by one of the players on the team, and which read: "To whom it may concern, tomorrow night, after tonights show, ive decided to have some strippers over to edens 2c. all are welcome... I plan on killing the bitches as soon as they walk in and proceding to cut their skin off while [ejaculating] in my duke issue spandex..." even then my reaction was one of resignation and acceptance. University men in the Western world view going to college as an arena for the fulfillment of their unbridled lust, and it is these intellectual crossroads wherein one finds, ironically, the greatest contempt for women. Sadly, unless it leads to some terrible tragedy, like rape, nobody cares. AT OXFORD during Eights Week the main annual rowing event at Oxford University that takes place on the Isis in June, I used to listen in astonishment as the male students chanted: "A-bor-tion, A-bortion... Lay that lady on her back. Pull that baby from her crack. A-bor-tion, A-bor-tion..." Then there were the "panty-raiders" at Eights Week; male students would steal women's underwear and hoist it up the boathouse flagpole. It is time for the Western world to accept the sad truth that universities are becoming bastions of female-hating lechers who spend four years trying to bed as many women as possible, while making the word "bitch" one of the most used in their vocabularies. Tom Wolfe's newest novel, I Am Charlotte Simmons, chronicles the unbelievable scorn for women that permeates the American campus, and how women have lost all dignity, becoming complicit in their own degradation, as they stop at nothing to become the male plaything. The greatest cultural story since the 1960s is the decline and fall of the Western male, and how women have accommodated that fall by allowing themselves to be treated like garbage by men. It's now 60 years after feminism, and there has never been a better time to be a man. To be a guy today is to have your pick of hundreds of women who will sleep with you and expect not only no commitment, but not even courteous treatment. You can burp in their presence, break wind, and they will still go to bed with you. To be a guy is to have women move into your apartment and cook and clean for you, even as you endlessly push off the question of marriage, which you have no intention of addressing anyway. And to be a man today is to have women take off their clothes on TV to sell you everything from beer to cars to hamburgers. ONCE, WHEN I lectured at Yale, a female student perfectly identified for me how it is a man's world and how it all begins at university: "When it comes to love and relationships the men here sit and pick us out, like a man sifting through a jar of jellybeans for the colors and tastes that he likes, leaving behind all the ones that don't appeal to his taste buds at the moment." But in becoming boastful beasts of female prey and losing their sense of awe for women, men have guaranteed their own boredom. If you're a man, and a woman can no longer excite you, what will? A bunch of guys hitting a ball with a bat? Watching race cars go in a circle for 500 miles? Do men realize just how pathetic they have become as they endlessly pursue cheap substitutes for a lost sense of erotic excitement? Most of the men I meet aren't even that attracted to their wives and live in predictable and monotonous drudgery in their marriages as a result. Yes, there is a price to pay for disrespecting women. The male overexposure to women has even led to the death of the heterosexual man as we know him. If the definition of a heterosexual man is a male who is attracted to women, then most men today are barely heterosexual. Think about it. Nearly all the men I know are only attracted to about one in 10 women, that is, the 10 percent of women they consider "hot." The other 90% leave them cold. Doesn't that mean that they are 90% asexual? And I'm not trying to be funny. If a man is not attracted to a woman, then he is not heterosexual. Period. And if he only attracted to a small fraction of the women he meets, then he is fractionally heterosexual. THE SECOND great tragedy of the Western man is that since women no longer strongly attract him, he cannot separate himself from his male buddies and truly attach himself to a female soul mate. Everywhere I go in the Western world I meet husbands whose real confidants are still their drinking and card-playing buddies, and who are lonely in their marriages as a result. Alternatively, they are single men who are addicted to dating but who never fall in love. Both of these factors were in operation that terrible night, on March 13, at Duke. The alleged rape victim had been paid $400 by the Neanderthals who surrounded her to excite them. And she arrived as the perfect obedient male fantasy, wearing, according to The New York Times, a "negligee and shiny white strappy high heels." But when even that failed to ignite an erotic charge, one of the highly educated youths allegedly "held up a broomstick and threatened to sexually assault her with it." A neighbor said the players were demanding their money back. She allegedly refused to participate in degrading acts that might finally give these overexposed and desensitized men some excitement. And when she didn't do that, well, violence was allegedly just around the corner, as the men ganged up on her as a pack. After all, if the "bitch" doesn't serve the purpose of turning us guys on, what on earth else could she possibly be good for? The writer is host of Shalom in the Home now being broadcast in the United States. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This article can also be read at http://www.jpost.com/servlet/Satellite?cid...icle%2FShowFull

Theology Thursdays: Why Would A Black Man Stay In The Catholic Church? by Daryl Grigsby For the last three years, I have been part of a group of African-American Catholic men who meet for a monthly breakfast. Our gatherings are punctuated with lively discussions on faith, politics and justice. Often we grapple with why a black man would stay faithful to the Catholic church. These men are both cradle Catholics and converts, and we all ponder whether the church can nurture a black man. We struggle with the same issues that afflict many of today’s Catholics: the stunning revelations of the scope of clerical pedophilia, the irresponsible transferring of perpetrators by bishops, the subsequent bankruptcies and closures, the exclusion of women and married men from the priesthood. Like many, we are left confused and searching. Yet for black men, the issue is magnified, for it is harder to find mentors, friends and fellowship in our church. The absence of other black men leaves us without comrades in the faith. Many of the unique challenges of being a black man go unaddressed by a church that is overwhelmingly Anglo. Further, as local parishes correctly strengthen their Vietnamese, Filipino and Hispanic ministries, black issues seem forgotten. Black women have serious issues as well, but to some extent have more sisters for fellowship and conversation. What are these unique challenges of being a black man? First, to be a black man is to be part of a race-gender composite resting on the bottom of the misery index in countless categories. Our brothers rank high in the rates for unemployment, incarceration, dropouts, illiteracy, infant mortality and early death, and low in home ownership, matriculation and corporate presence. Even if you have “succeeded” in America’s scale of values, you can’t help but remember Martin Luther King’s nervousness, expressed in 1965, that we might be “integrating into a burning house.” Your job, house and security are appreciated, but not completely, for you are saddened by the number of illiterate, jobless and incarcerated brothers. You feel, in fact, a smoldering “black rage” that whites often misunderstand. They cite your personal accomplishments, knowing little that your celebration is muted when so many brothers are denied what you possess. Black men often need a place a share the hurt, anger and joy of being black and male in America. The great black scholar W.E.B. Du Bois said it best in The Souls of Black Folk: “One ever feels his two-ness; an American, a Negro, two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder.” In this context, the best thing the Catholic church can do is be a place where black men may gather without judgment or whispers. So where does this leave the black male Catholic? One of our breakfast members said a local black Baptist minister told him any black man who remains Catholic has lost his mind. This minister sees Anglo paintings of the Virgin Mary, the preponderance of European saints and white priests and wonders aloud why a black man would remain in a place so devoid of color. While black Baptist and Pentecostal churches abound with male leaders, social sermons and community roots, a black Catholic man is often alone. Yet like many Catholics, we find our hearts longing for our church. The beautiful liturgy has a seasonal rhythm that changes each year into a spiritual odyssey. The Blessed Virgin Mary models courage and faith in the midst of hardship. The saints live among us, and St. Augustine, St. Francis, St. Thérèse and others pray for us and guide us along the way. We are also inspired by the vast untapped treasure of black saints. Daniel Rudd of Kentucky told his fellow African-Americans, “The Holy Roman Catholic church offers to the oppressed Negro a material as well as spiritual refuge. … We need the church, the church wants us. Investigate. … See, comprehend for yourselves.” In the 1880s he published a national black Catholic newspaper, the American Catholic Tribune, and founded the still-active National Black Catholic Congress movement. I am particularly moved by the life of Daniel Rudd, for he believed his race had a home in the church when there was little physical evidence that was so. For Daniel Rudd, faith was truly “the substance of things hoped for” (Heb 11:1). It is an interesting historical note that Daniel Rudd died in Bardstown, Ky., the town where Thomas Merton later lived in the monastery at Gethsemani. Sr. Elizabeth Lange was superior of the first group of black religious, the Oblate Sisters of Providence. Founded in Baltimore in 1829, the sisters nursed the sick and taught the poor in the name of Jesus Christ. The Venerable Pierre Toussaint sheltered homeless black children, fed the hungry and nursed those dying of cholera. When he died in New York in 1853, thousands attended his funeral. In 1578, Benedict was a cook in the monastery in Palermo, Italy. His wisdom and devotion to God were such that hundreds visited his kitchen for counseling, healing and prayer. Benedict became known as “il moro santo,” “the Black Saint.” These are but a few of our black Catholic pioneers. My graduate theological school project was to interview African-Americans who had been Catholic for more than 60 years. I asked, “Why did you remain faithful to a church which often disrespected black parishioners?” For each of them, the answer was simple. They met God in the sacraments, prayers and teachings of the church, and nothing could turn them away. Some priests refused to bury their parents, and at times they had to stand in the back, yet they persisted. Though this segregation was prevalent in the South, the North was not immune. When the interviews were complete, I realized their perseverance made the church Catholic. Despite all that is awry in the church, I must stay. I must stay because black pioneers built a church where African-Americans are welcomed in a universal gathering. I must stay because Daniel Rudd, Elizabeth Lange, Pierre Toussaint, St. Benedict and others comprise a black communion. I stay, for Christ meets me in the Eucharist and teaches me that forgiveness and mercy are to be shared with all. The defining moment of my week comes when we hear, “This is the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world. Happy are those who are called to his supper.” We respond, “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word, and I shall be healed.” At that holy moment, I and my church are healed yet again to face another week of work, service, sadness, joy, difficulty and triumph. Daryl Grigsby has a master’s degree in pastoral studies from Seattle University’s School of Theology and Ministry. He is a lay presider at St. Therese Parish in Seattle and is working on a book of black saints. This article was published by The National Catholic Reporter. Daryl Grigsby Thursday, May 04, 2006

RIP. thanks for the hundreds of immensely entertaining and informative wall street week shows.

http://theovergrownpath.blogspot.com/ check out the first 2 articles.

equal quantities of wnur's morning and blue lake's lazaro vega late night presentations make for an enjoyable, informative, and stimulating jazz listening experience.

all ot them-especially the whistler............

YEAH, man!!! Testify! i think it's about time to listen to those solos from moneyjungle and ellington indigos from columbia.

Those early Island label, Pink Round Logo, Pink I, Pink Rim, are a damn pain in the a..., ops, wallet. Try to find a mint original Traffic or Free records on ebay kismet-the mastersounds uptown-duke

I wouldn't say that out loud. She might be the most disliked person in the Chicago jazz community. This is an interesting statement. Why is she disliked? And who is the community? The jazz intelligentsia? The club owners perhaps? The owner of one of the major jazz venues in Chicago made a funny comment to me about the so called "jazz community", and more specifically "..jazz geeks?", as he put it. "Who cares what the 'jazz geeks' say about this artist or that artist?" The whole sociology of music is very interesting. I care about what everyone says. The music afficianados and the lay people. I believe music can appeal to both. So what is the Heim crime? Not well versed in jazz? Not a community oriented person? Is it merely her personality that has caused her problems? Does it matter? Should Jim play politics? Or take support gracefully and not worry about social posturing? Not intending an argument at all. It is a funny business and subculture, that's all. amen, hey, that's us.

let's not forget toots' yesterday birthday....

Those early Island label, Pink Round Logo, Pink I, Pink Rim, are a damn pain in the a..., ops, wallet. Try to find a mint original Traffic or Free records on ebay kismet-the mastersounds

how would expressions rate? i believe that was the last release he authorized. I would actually rank it below Interstellar Space and Stellar Regions. But we're talking about music at a very high level. All of the '67 studio stuff does, but is it the music or the listener? Guy ... the only thing to do with trane is let his music speak to each of us one on one?

how would expressions rate? i believe that was the last release he authorized. dont you think it has a valedictory air about it ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- i found this amazon review which somewhat expresses my feelings: Hawkins "jimmy_cello" (New York, NY) - See all my reviews This was Coltrane's last album, and while it is a truly incredible album, it leaves me with a sense of longing and frustration. Expression deviates quite a bit from his other albums of 1965-67, and seems to be pointing the way to a new road Coltrane was going to take had he not died at 40. What makes this so frustrating is that the journey he would have taken would have been amazing. The opening track of this album, Ogunde, is a sweeping, rolling ballad that flows with a sense of freedom and majesty that I simply don't hear in his earlier works (though I know others who do). In some ways, this album seems like a logical continuation of his Classic Quartet stuff. However, the rhythms are far freer, and the tonal center is less defined (Alice Coltrane sounds less tied to modality than Tyner). The result is this massive sound that moves along on a more intuitive level, rather than on a logical, metric one (not to say that his music was rigid). Adding to all this is an excursion by Coltrane into the flute. Here I'm a little ambivalent. His flute playing is not even remotely at the level of his work on tenor or soprano. However, I feel that we hear the foundation of what was to come, and I'm fully prepared to believe that his flute technique would have developed and progressed quickly. It's amazing that in 1967 after all of his experiments, Coltrane was able to discover yet another avenue to explore in his own playing. This album is a testament to that, and is a must for Coltrane fans.

om

what a beautiful expression of love!

shame on all of us.

just another reminder. it's sunday morning

i do, indeed, and look forward to many more. it's an honor to cross paths. here is a your thoughtful review of a very thoughtful musician: http://www.onefinalnote.com/features/2005/sandke/

i do, indeed, and look forward to many more. it's an honor to cross paths.