fasstrack

I don't expect it, but do need it. One time when I was about 18 I went to the Vanguard to hear Yusef Lateef. For reasons I still don't quite understand I approached him. I told him some stupid crap about being an up-and-coming musician (I couldn't wipe my musical ass, of course) and this and that and what did he think, etc. His answer, after putting me in my place (I had had the temerity in my youthful social ineptness to have used profanity and this was a very pious man) was that "we can play in the woods for the squirrels and chipmunks if all we wanted to do was play (and not be appreciated)". I ran into Mr. Lateef (by then probably 80 or close to it) 2 years ago and approached him again as a somewhat wiser man. I told him how much I appreciated him taking the time to address the sincere but inept questions of young man seeking answers. He was so happy---so appreciative---to hear that he just about glowed.

Today I played for a graduation event for the children leaving a private school that I am to begin teaching for shortly. I spoke to a really wonderful lady who is a committed lifetime educator, and well along in years at that. One could easily see that in her soul she was good, good, good. In the course of the conversation I was mentioning that with this job and some other things that have happened all at once lately it seems like I'm finally just might be in a place that both wants and appreciates me and I do the same back. Her rejoinder was that appreciation is necessary, even primal. I had so much respect for her that I thought and rethought my own cynicism re the good ever being rewarded adequately in appreciation. I had to rethink all the advice that I was given and my hardened heart accepted. Stuff like 'if you expect your ticket to be punched in this life, boy are you in for a rough ride', etc. I wonder now if she is in fact right and those other cynics (by definition, after all, one-time-idealists trying really hard not to get hurt) wrong. Who's right? She? They? Monte Rock III? Nobody?

Uh oh. You've picked a slippery slope to go down, my friend. A slippery slope

Thanks. Can't promise the pic, as I'm a computer retard. Complete, unrepentant, hopeless . How bout I post a link to me playing it when I start to? That's what it's really about anyway.....

Hey Joe: Long time. Hope all's well. I didn't read the whole 53 pages so you'll excuse me . But I saw the pictures of the guitars and I just stopped in to gloat (crow?). I'm not one of these guitar players that falls in love with instruments. Know what I mean? If it plays good and sounds good it is good. But I stopped in a music store to unload another guitar. And got hit by a thunderbolt. My 'Apollonia'. I tried this '29 L4. It's an archtop but with a round hole. And that's the way it's gonna stay. But I played it and had to have it, expense be damned. It just sounds, plays, and even looks like a million bucks. I've been a good boy, teach children every day and I'm gonna have this f'ing guitar. Period. I put a down payment on it and if things go well she'll be all mine by September. I tried to convince the guy to let me use it for a record date next month but he wouldn't go for it. I understand, but am disappointed. Anyway,either out of pride, to hook me further, or to merely rub it in, this owner played a recording of his brother playing Django-style music on the guitar. The guy played damn good too. I can hardly wait! Happy Fathers Day. Joel

Puhleeze. I turn 52 on July 21st. And don't feel a day over 51....

Talk about your self-fullfilling prophecies.....

yesterday, I believe? For all you fans (I'm a major one) here's the place to give it up.

Uh huh. You can also walk into places away from that venerated 'jazz scene' and hear music that'll blow you away. It doesn't have to be jazz, but you'd be surprised how much of it is. Go to St. Mark's Methodist Church any Sunday. 11 AM at 137th and Edgecombe in Harlem, Big Mango. For the cost of a semolian in the collection plate you will hear music of the caliber they're asking $50+ in certain concert halls and clubs. As long as someone has a story to tell, expertise on an instrument (voice is also an instrument) and the fire to tell it you're gonna hear something worth hearing. All anyone needs is the temerity and the stick-to-it-ness to get out there and take their case to the people. Word spreads fast, and our, ahem, esteemed colleagues in the 4th estate have nowhere near the power their sad self-important asses con themselves into thinking they do. As I said before, and it seemed to go unnoticed or at least uncommented on, it's a mistake to invest so much of this argument on the machinations of record companies or even to try to make a CD for the majors. But if they make you a sweet offer, go for it dudes and dudettes. (Just don't give away rights to your songs. Ever. For any amount of money). Record companies are dinosaurs. Finito. Get a priest and close the eyes. Just a matter of time. The killer? Their own greed and a little thing called the Internet. If you want to get your music disseminated do like I'm doing: put it out yourself, get a marketing monkey to help, pay google to direct folks to your little dog and pony show on CD Baby or wherever. But most of all get gigs. Get a buzz around the band. Recordings should be documents of a working band, and they rarely are in the world of commercial recording. Anyway, as little as jazz records sell you need gigs to sell them at so as to at least break even. And I wish Ms. Vega and others in that boat luck. Those waters are rough right now.

....but the cow was Polish, see, and he turned the gun on himself. The goat started laughing and the cow got pissed, turned and said 'what're you laughing at? You're next....'

NY is in one of the greatest resurgences, at least on some levels, in the almost 52 years of my entire life lived here. Right now it's putting the spring back in Spring. I feel safe walking pretty much anywhere, particularly in Harlem and the Lower East Side, two neighborhoods that were a crapshoot at best to walk in not that long ago. Not only do I feel safe but these neighborhoods are not only alive but teeming with life. You haven't lived til you've seen Harlemites come out for church on Sunday morning. The women's hats alone and the competition outdoing each other! The services, especially the music in said services are among the most invigorating around, and for the price of a buck in the collection plate. My favorite is St. Mark's United Methodist on 137th and Edgecome. I went for John Hicks' funeral and have missed only one Sunday since. As for the Lower East Side, a neighborhood that was a war zone a mere 10, even 5 years ago it is the site of really hip community gardens, an indie movie house on E. Houston, an awesome knish joint that's been there 96 years and they downright spoil you, outdoor beergardens, a great vegan restaurant, etc. etc. To walk around on a weekend is not to know what kind of adventure awaits. On a recent Saturday I was drawn in by the sound of a brass band on Mulberry St. I got closer and these young players were really getting it on things like Just a Closer Walk, New Orleans St. Parade, etc. Turns out it was a wedding procession. The bride and groom came out from the church, she looking radiant, he peacock-proud. They were having such a great time that when I congratulated the groom he actually invited me to the party! (I demurred and continued my rounds). This is not to say I live in a picture postcard. There is still racism in parts of the city with unfortunately familiar names like Howard Beach. There is still poverty here, though it's getting hard to find completely poor neighborhoods. I asked my friend economist Jared Bernstein, an expert on the minimum wage and various economic trends, why there don't seem to be any poor neighborhoods any more in NY, fearing he would say the poor have been pushed out due to high rents fostered by gentrification in the aforementioned areas. He rejoined that the poor have not fled the city but rather have been absorbed into more affluent areas. This is not a good sign and poverty can not be prettied up or swept under the rug. Economic growth and the city's healthy glow is somewhat superficial and one shouldn't be lulled into a stupor by the pretty sights and sounds. This is not paradise. But oh those pretty sights and sounds! It is a great time to drink in some glorious neighborhoods.

Tunes on the date?

Hey, where is Doug now? Chicago? I used to know him in NY. Good swinging player, nice cat.

You write for All about Jazz, right? I've seen your byline and probably read a review or two.

Good interview. I agree with everything she said. 100%

I also emailed my own story to a friend. If I get any stories back I'll ask permission to post them. I'm sure I'll get some pips....

'Just an orange glow' I knew this was gonna be a classic thread. Can't wait to hear other stories. Bring 'em on.....

My first car (I didn't drive til my early 30s) was a Camaro. An '81 and this was '91. The frickin' gas indicator moved faster than a clock and it was always stalling. I maxed out a credit card putting that bitch in the hands of lying, dishonest mechanics and it was never fixed. I did learn that when the words 'water pump' come from the lips of any mechanic they really mean 'cash register'..... I finally decided to get rid of it but right before I did I was coming back from a rehearsal with pianist John (somebody) at a bassist's mom's house in Armonk. Smoke suddenly started coming through the dash. John was driving. We were on the Henry Hudson and pulled off the nearest exit. John started to freak because the cruise control was on and he said he couldn't turn it off (all he had to do was hit the brake). He panicked and within one minute some Hispanic lady saw the smoke and said 'wait right there', got a fire extinguisher out of her car, and doused the flames. (I think I had picked up some cardboard or something and the smoke found its way to the manifold). So John, good citizen that he always was, immediately grabbed his f**ing keyboard and said "I have a gig" and went off to hail a gypsy cab or a gypsy or something. I was left sitting there with my car one saved by one second from blowing up. Now I had the problem of getting it off the highway (it was in the right lane on the off-ramp, stalled as usual). Then the vultures descended, claiming they are the only ones with the authority to tow a car on a US highway on NY. Bullshit, I'm sure, but who had time to argue? They towed me to some scumbag-owned-scumbag operated garage in the South Bronx. The driver all the way there is making me offers in broken English for my Camaro: "A car without a motor is like you without a heart, poppito"... I went to pick it up with my own tow truck guy, who turned out to be this mean hitter kid who spends the entire f**ing ride telling me how he beats up on his girlfriend. Approaching the toll plaza of the Triboro Bridge I hear a thud. Someone hit the Camaro and truck both. The guy scoots out of the truck and tells the guy 'show me some ID, dude'. The driver was looking real scared, and I soon found out why. I drive his Caddy to park it while he's working it out with this other asshole. I look on the floor and see a pile of money and a beeper. I look up and see blood on the rear view mirror. Hellooooo---drug dealer, plus he probably got so high he fell out and then hit us. I get closer to the conversation and I see the tow guy threatening to call the cops. "No cops. I'm on parole".The dealer pulls money out of his pocket and hands it to the driver. Then he finds a viaduct or something and escapes, leaving his Caddy and all the money and drugs. Last I saw him he was running down a hill to freedom. The dealer gave this guy $2000. The c**ksucker hands me $300 and says 'Isn't this great? I can take my kid on vacation!" There was a humungous dent in my door. I said "$300? Is this a joke, dude? Look at the damage!" But the scumbag beat me all the same beause he was bigger physically and I'm not the fighting kind and he knew it. He bullied and brazened my rightful half of the bread. It was dirty money anyway. God talking, I guess. (And saying 'f... you'....) Like Bobby from Drugstore Cowboy I took it all as a sign. I sold the car to the first circus freak I saw. Only instead of a pack of chewing gum I got $1,200.

Wow. Not one person commented on my points (page 1 of this discussion). Does that mean no one thinks I made any sense or that it was so off-point as to be out to lunch, or can you smell halitosis over the Web?

Allow me to digress from the vagaries of Vega, because: I don't know why people aren't talking about the overarching issue, namely: Record companies=no more, el dinosaur, thing of the past, put an x over the eyes and bury them, etc. etc..... Hiring singers by jazz labels is IMO a red herring, or a way of buying a little time on the way to the boneyard. It may help a little but the problem is much bigger. All the majors are so desperate generally that we're seeing the dying gasps of Tyranosuarus Rex as he does pathetic things like suing a grandmother in Yonkers whose grandson downloaded from Napster or Kazaa (anyone remember that?, wasn't so long ago). Indies, for their part, are well-menaing but so cash-starved that a lot of unknown musicians aren't even bothering with them, preferring to put out their own product and sell it at CD baby or on gigs. I myself am planning to do this with an upcoming recording. I don't see that I have much choice. The Internet, listener over-inundation, access by 20-somethings and people younger than that to cultural instant gratification have all conspired to make not only profitable record companies but, sadly, also live music endangered species. The real fight, and perhaps only salvation, for musicians and record companies alike is to get into schools and be creative as hell in getting kids to 1. know what music and instruments really are (things that don't come from a computer, though the computer is a great means of dissemination) and ditto the people that perform on them and 2. get excitied enough to go hear live music and purchase CDs. Also musos need to find more and more creative ways to get their music to people, since everybody and hisd brother has a hawking website. I think getting gigs some kind of way and creating a buzz will create a demand for one's CD if the music is happening and communicates. I don't care what it takes, this is what I think we ought to be doing and talking about. Record companies have already written their own death warrants by years of price fixing and general greed, not to mention a total lack of imagination even in the presentation of pop music. Now the access to and expectation of instant info has told us what needs to be done. I don't care how much technology there is extant, people still need to be reached, hit in the heart. Now is the time for musicians to work overtime to create audiences, to teach, to inspire. Otherwise we'll be in the graveyard right behind the companies.

Erroll Garner: Closeup in Swing; Lenny Bruce in Concert (Carnegie Hall); Sinatra/Jenkins: September of my Years

Sorry to hear that. RIP, 'fallen soldier'. Thanks for the info BTW.

Anyone know his whereabouts? His name came up today. I heard California, but know not. Here's hoping he's alive, well, and playing up a storm somewhere.

I wouldn't be surprised. I'm an outsider (though I live 10 minutes away in the Bronx and teach one student in Mt. Vernon) and nowhere on earth can perfection be found, but from that qualified perspective the people there seem very in tune with each other. I'm sure many know their history. Thanks for caring about this, Allen. I could never put into words how important this is to me, to know that art and community are so viable in places that are so totally into what's going on in their own and their neighbor's lives they likely don't even notice if anyone else knows about them or not. It's really a lesson for me on so many levels.