fasstrack

Jack Lesberg is the bass player enjoying all this. Dick Hyman was on piano. Right. I remember now it was Dick Hyman. I think I've even heard him be interviewed about same.

Sorry. With all due respect to your feelings and dissenting opinion I'm not buying that. The man's racism and smugness are running amok in that clip. I've seen it perhaps as many times as you and I saw an arrogant little Winchell wanna-be who was outclassed and knew it. So he had to get into the act and in so doing showed the aforementioned plus what a clueless moron he was. Not that he was alone. A long tradition sadly ensued IMO, from Mike Douglas (a nice guy, seemingly, at least) to Merv and beyond. I don't mean to attack 50s-60s TV emcees ad hominem, but rather to point out that many of these people had aspirations at music themselves but often not much talent. When some of these guys had real artists, musical or otherwise, on the shows they would almost to a man either not know shit about them or (in Griffin's case especially) would feel terribly threatened by them. Bob Brookmeyer was in the band and told the story on his website about what a talentless and angry empty suit Griffin was. Also it was rare to see jazz artists on TV then, due again to stupidity, bean counting, and no doubt racism. Remember Roland Kirk disrupting his show? It was for a reason. Merv's and other talk shows used watered-down versions of jazz (or actual charts and good ones) on breaks but would never give a black musician the time of day re exposure. Griffin, to his credit, at least had Bill Evans and Monty Alexander on. But Rahsaan was spot on, IMO. On the other hand, black jazz musicians did have friends in 50s-60s white TV. Bishop Norman O' Connor, Ralph J. Gleason, Robert Herridge, and especially Art Ford come to mind. To get back to Bird, he really nailed what was happening and handled it with dignity and great style with that 'music speaks louder than words' line. One of the all-time great subtle putdowns. And if looks could kill Earl Wilson woulda needed a priest that evening. And it sailed right over old Earl's head, dumb show-biz rat that he was. Thanks for the personnel fill-in, BTW. Much appreciated.

Are you sure? I'm not saying you're wrong but I was always told that was Joe Harris. Where did you learn that? Anyway if I'm wrong about this I've been wrong for years. Wouldn't be the first or last time, I guess. Who's playing bass? I'm clueless, though I can see his face and how much fun he was having in my head right now. That's a hell of a clip whoever's on it. Bird and Diz 7 or so years after the 'revolution' getting some props finally and playing their asses off.

Yeah, Art! This line and 'now I have to hate Bush again' made my day. A funny man and class act for years. Reminds me of a line attributed to Oscar Wilde when he himself was reported to be dying in a fleabag hotel: "This wallpaper is killing me---and one of us has to go" I hope I can laugh like that with the end in sight.

This is actually very well-known, at least the performance of Hot House that follows. It features besides Diz and Bird Dick Hyman, piano; Joe Harris, drums, and I forget the bass player, sorry. The idiot Bird is staring down is one Earl Wilson, a Broadway columnist/show-biz rat of the day. Sort of a low-rent Walter Winchell. He was the host of the show, which was called Omnibus. It's pretty funny how Bird saw right through his moronic blather and addressed it perfectly by saying 'music speaks louder than words'. I've quoted that many times since seeing this years ago). Chan Parker, in a documentary about Bird, said of this clip that you could see how pissed her husband was at not only Earl's stupidity but his racism. She went on to say 'If looks could kill...'

If you have to explain 'em..... BTW, I asked you once before and I guess you never saw it, but didn't you produce a and announce a radio show on WBAI in the late 60s-early 70s? I remember hearing it but you'd have to refresh me as to the content. As I remember there was some blues on it. Thanks in advsnce.

So do I. In 1983 I was helping Barry with one of his concerts over at Nica's and he needed to be alone for a while so he told me to go look at some books or records or something. One of the records he had was a Bill Evans one on Riverside. I can't remember which one but it seemed to be an original pressing. But what was hilarious was that it was one of those that opened up to reveal text, etc. inside and it hadn't been cracked in so long that it was fused shut. It took me a full few minutes to pry it open without tearing the pictures and stuff. When I told Barry this and showed him the album man did we break up.

I hear you. I guess if you catch people at different times they will say different things according to how they feel. He did tell me that though. I think his exact words were "I'm funny that way. Even on my dates I don't know til the last minute". He knows to leave a window for spontaneity (sp?). Most musical artists are unhappy with their work when they hear it, though they probably enjoyed it at the time. Nothing new about that. Perhaps the trick is not to listen unless you evolve enough to listen in the detached (in an ego sense) way a fan would. I guess there's 'remedial listening' too, but most players after a certain time know their weaknesses so well they don't even have to bother with that. And, yes, Barry plays kind of quietly and with an airier sound compared to some other pianists. I could always hear him cut through, though.

Agreed. He set the bar so high with Sounds of Synanon and everything else he recorded for Pacific Jazz in the early to mid-sixties it was almost impossible to top such Mozart-like perfection---though his Virtuoso period playing was great in its own way.

I've known the great man known as Barry Doyle Harris for 30 years (I'm going to play for the singers in his class tonight and as always will doubtless learn a thing or three myself) and I can tell you he is not one to be spooked by the red recording light. In fact he's told me he hardly even goes so far as to plan much about his dates. He knows so many tunes, and has written some nice ones, and has played so much music in so many situations that he functions at an optimum level 'off the top'. If he's doing a more detailed project such as a concert with vocalists (as is his wont) he will have one of his students sit in as rehearsal pianist and often even as performing accompanist on the concert itself. But on his jazz dates he calls a lot of 'em off the top and, I guess, like Ben Webster is reported to have said 'if the rhythm section ain't making it, go for yourself'.

Wow. Without getting into TMI I know that song only too well. That comment has almost unbearable resonance for me. (I will say that the belief in 'better living through chemistry' so popular among my parents' generation and its unfortunate lovechild self-medication, happily, never was the case with me).

That was beautiful, man. Thank you so much for that. Joe Pass had so much humanity and joy in his work that he deserves to be 'humanized' in the way you did.

Interesting. There are some people---artists or otherwise---that are more comfortable with the inner world than the outer. They reserve that right. Obviously Evans knew how much was going on inside his head and soul and seemed at least some of the time to not mind doing what it took to drive a wedge between that perfect inner world and the intrusion of the 'real' one. Perhaps his tragic flaw was that he felt the drugs was a good buffer between him and people. Maybe he just dug getting high also, like most dope fiends do. (No judgement there, but if it didn't feel good....). At least those are the low-rent armchair-shrink interpretations. Speculation, and nothing more. Perhaps he was expansive at times and reflective at others as you say. That would make the man....human, would it not? I heard he enjoyed going to the track and also dug good comedy. Anyway, I'm just another musician, another listener, and not Evans' 'personal A.J. Weberman'. But I will allow as how his playing did go from delicate and inward to expansve and outgoing at various times. But then I never met the man. My guess, FWIW, is that extraordinarily gifted people are extraordinarily sensitive and have more mood and intellectual swings than people less gifted and 'tightly wrapped'. Not to beat this to death, but the operative word in the preceding sentence is guess. You'd have to be inside the man's head (or anyone's head) or a close friend to know what the hell was going on. I enjoyed, for example, Peter Pettinger's bio, but it seemed he got nowhere near Evans, although some of the facts (e.g. Ellaine's and Harry's suicides) tell some of the sadder aspects of the story. As a musical chronicle, though, I thought it was an admirable job. What made Bird play his ass off on that 1954 record at the Beehive with a pickup band when he was supposed to be 'finished'? (Realizing that this was the same year, possibly within months of the Beehive gig, that he could barely get the melodies out on some live date I can't remember now, but he faltered so badly it was painful to hear). Red Rodney spoke of a 'physical decline', and probably there is truth to that. Not knowing a person, however, leaves he unappetizing prospect of speculation, and beyond normal thoughtfulness/intellectual curiosity IMO nothing is to be gained from same in enjoying any artist's work, at least for me. I'd rather approach listening like playing: hopefully with a clean slate. Not at all easy to do, ne c'est pas? Absence of pre-judging baggage=the possibilty of truly hearing.

Was that one from 1968 and did he play Never Let me Go and I think Here's That Rainy Day? If so it is indeed beautiful. I think he may have been at or near his best when playing reflectively as a solo pianist.

Some corrections are in order on what I reported on: The senior pastor was the Reverend Walter C. Barton and he delivered the obituary, not the eulogy. The eulogy was delivered by the Reverend Dr. Gilbert Caldwell. Also, what I described as John Hicks' coffin was actually the altar. I should've know it couldn't have been Hicks' coffin since he died at least ten days before. It did look like a coffin, though. I still don't know who accompanied Lori Hartman. Finally, if any of you are planning to come to NY and want a truly memorable experience visit St. Mark's United Methodist Church (Edgecomb Ave. at 137th St., Harlem, USA) on a Sunday Morning. The main service begains at 11 AM and there is wonderful music. Today, for example, I was treated to a fabulous guest gospel choir from Virginia plus their pastor who was guest minister for the service. His sister was pianist. His sermon was tremendous. Later there was a young people's all-classical concert with performers so good it was mind-blowing. They are a one-church textbook example of what not only community-based music, but community-based spirit is all about.

Thanks. If you appreciate it my wish is that you'll 'pay it forward' by telling a musican how important he/she is in your life. I only met John Hicks once but heard him play plenty in NY. The time I met him another musician who drinks and can be a pain in the ass introduced us in a snotty way that I felt made me look bad intentionally. Hicks picked up on this and immediately turned to me and said "My life is your life". I never forgot that and I'm glad he was as loved as he was. Seriously, man. Tell a musician you appreciate him/her. Today. This stuff is not easy and cats (and kittens) need to know their work means something even if they are underpaid (or not paid at all). mr. fasstrack: i am most appreciative of your sharing john's funeral with us. and i so strongly feel your sentiments above that they brought tears to my eyes. this is something i feel so passionate about and always try to remember to voice my support and appreciation to our precious jazz musicians. they make a profound difference in my life! Valerie: Thanks, from the bottom....I hear you, BTW. I had to fight tears myself. We're all a family, those of us who make this music and those who love and disseminate it. We fight and act like damn fools because it's a cash-poor music, and we humans are a race of (loveable) knuckleheads anyway. But in the end we hace to recognize that we are in this thing together. Know why I paid my respects to John? because of the above-mentioned incident. I figured anyone with that much humanity should get my attention for a few hours on his send-off from this life. And, as I indicated, I was far from alone in that sentiment. Again, I thank you.

FWIW: I've fallen under and then fallen out of Evans' spell. I'm sure I'll fall back in, as moods and feelings are always subject to change and people works in progress. He was absolutely a genius, a storyteller, one of America's great interpreters of the song form, a sublime pianist with one of the all-time great touches rivaled in jazz perhaps only by Ahmad Jamal, a reinventor of the piano trio and general innovator. But what I always missed, and I know there has been discussion of this ad nauseum, is the swing. I can't feel him in my body, though he engages my mind and spirit. When I hear Wynton Kelly, to cite another pianist closely associated with Miles Davis, and as we all know Evans' antecedent in the quintet piano chair, it's just a whole other thing. I just listen to Evans for other things. Rhythmically, it's his oft-cited displacement that is so brilliant. But again, when I hear even those groundbreaking sides with LaFaro and Motian, even Motian was and is a hell of a straightahead drummer, even though LaFaro was another genius, it just stays in that introspective mode and I'm not moved to tap my feet or even snap on 2 and 4 like I would to Jamal, Kelly, Tommy Flanagan, Barry Harris, etc. Of course, Bill can do things they never could. If I listened back to back to Evans' trio and, say, Sonny Rollins or anything Dizzy ever did in his life I'd have to say there would be no doubt in my mind what swing is---and isn't. But, to end with a positive statement, as a poet, player of beautifully phrased horn-like lines (especially earlier in his career like that classic pairing with Cannonball, Know What I Mean. Goodbye from that album is a work of genius IMO), and lyric master of both piano and the American Songbook (and a hell of a contributor with his great tunes) Evans is an absolute giant. I'm glad we 'met'.

Thanks. If you appreciate it my wish is that you'll 'pay it forward' by telling a musican how important he/she is in your life. I only met John Hicks once but heard him play plenty in NY. The time I met him another musician who drinks and can be a pain in the ass introduced us in a snotty way that I felt made me look bad intentionally. Hicks picked up on this and immediately turned to me and said "My life is your life". I never forgot that and I'm glad he was as loved as he was. Seriously, man. Tell a musician you appreciate him/her. Today. This stuff is not easy and cats (and kittens) need to know their work means something even if they are underpaid (or not paid at all).

THE FUNERAL SERVICE 5/19/06 St. Mark's United Methodist Church on Edgcombe Ave. is one of those old-style cavernous Harlem Churches. It looked to be about a century old or close, anyway. It was not exactly in disrepair but in need of some painting, plastering, etc. All in all, though it was still looking good. Good and 'lived in'. You could feel the history and community as you walked in. I arrived about a half hour late and the choir was singing "Precious Lord, Take My Hand" with the organ (naturally). There is something about human voices singing together in a church that is quite unlike any other experience in music or out. Hear them in a black church and the feeling increases exponentially. It's hard to explain how I feel about it except to say it's community based music and as such very real. Probably a lot of pros couldn't get to the feeling that came out of these churchgoing singers this afternoon. Next the reverend (I'm so sorry not to remember his name. Only the senior pastor was listed in the program) came out to deliver his obituary (not eulogy, that came later). It was then that I looked around and saw how full this capacious house was. John Hicks was loved by a lot of people. In the course of this oratory I learned that Hicks was the son of a minister and also maintained ties to this particular church to the end. The preacher finished and Kenny Barron and Curtis Lundy came on to play "We'll be Together Again". They played it twice through and very quietly. Kenny blew on it a little in a restrained way, as befitted the occasion. The sounds of children outside and street sounds wafted in---again the sounds of community, the community Hicks called his own. As everyone, from the big shot to the meek, in the 'hood came by to see him off it seemed fitting that everyday sounds would intermingle with the more specialized ones served by Messrs. Barron and Lundy. It was a moment, an aural image I won't soon forget. Next came the tributes and among the speakers was Hicks' brother Raiford. In the course of his speech an amazing thing happened: he read a 'wish list' Hicks had provided for his family in the event of his demise. Each family member was lovingly chided to do or not do this or that. I never heard that before at a funeral. It seemed he really thought things through and was thinking for a long time of the life that would follow his . Then Raiford read from a statement of his brother's enumerating his ideas about spirituality. The one I'll always remember is "Sometimes you may feel you're not understood, but sometimes it's more important to understand" That brought sighs from the crowd. The Lord's Prayer was next and sung beautifully and with almost overwhelming passion by tenor Derrick Alton. It was a powerful moment in that church when he got to the song's emotional peak: "For yours is the power,...and the glory...etc" I had to fight back tears myself. The senior pastor, Reverend Walter C. Barton Jr., delivered his eulogy touching on various highlights of Hick's career and life, from Della Reese to Art Blakey among so many others, and did a commendable job. I was ready to hear some more music, though, as I had to leave soon. As if in answer to my prayer, Lori Hartman got up to sing But Beautiful, accompanied (I think) by musical director Adam G. Singleton. At that point I got up and walked up close in the church so I was flush with the pulpit. It was then that I saw John Hicks' casket for the first time as this woman was singing how love is 'funny or it's sad' amid a sea of faces of parishioners, friends, Harlemites, and fans. Another image I won't soon forget. I had to leave and missed final musical tributes by Cedar Walton, Kathy Farmer, and others (I saw Cyrus Chestnut waiting in the wings) and also the benediction and recessional. I felt badly that I couldn't talk to the many people I recognized. But it was time to go and I was glad to have witnessed such a beautiful sendoff in such a grand old church. I felt glad to be human today. And I believe John Hicks knows even now how loved he was.

She's music.

Anyone here know of her? She was on the verge of real stardom when she died at only 41 in 1995. It took a while, because that type of singer (not at least ostensibly swinging, though ultimately she does in her way, and sort of whitebread) is not always my cup of tea, but I am in awe of and in love with this lady's artistry. She owned a truly special instrument, just a honeyed voice with perfect control and intonation. And the feeling, especially on ballads....Too beautiful. The album I've been playing over and over is Nancy LaMott: Come rain or Come Shine (the songs of Johnny Mercer). If you can get through Autumn Leaves (coupled with When October Goes, music by of all people Barry Manilow) without tearing up you're better than I. The first time I heard it on Jonathan Schwartz's show I had to pull off the road. And even then I just lost it. She is that moving. Get this CD.

One night years ago I walked into the bar that is now 55 Bar in the Village, Big Mango. Dewey Redman walked in a few minutes later, spotted my guitar, and said 'Musician? We all have to stick together". 2 Years ago I stumbled by serendipity into a rehearsal of JALC for a concert of Ornette Coleman's music. The man himself was there listening pensively in a corner. So was Dewey Redman. We spoke again and the same warmth and wisdom tumbled out of him. It must be me Sorry, couldn't resist. It most certainly is him. A rare completely human personage. And his music ain't too shabby either.

Best to you always. I meant every word. We're lucky to have you. The jazz world needs disseminators (sp?) as much as music makers. If I get some vacation time this summer and can afford it you may again see my crazy ass this summer.

I've been in that studio along with trumpet player John Eckert. Lazaro had the most intelligent questions of any interviewer I've faced and knew the most about the music, by a long shot. That includes some knuckleheads I've sat across from and on some bigtime stations here in NY---which is supposed to be such a hip jazz town. He had me and my band over his house, took us out to sit by the beautiful lake, and showed me his music library in the basement. I call Lazaro from time to time when he's on the air and he always has time to chat and ask how I am. He's the McCoy and I'm proud to call him my friend. I'm only sorry I can't get the live feed of his show off the web.

Thanks for straightening me out about the Bogie flick. And yes, real talent---anything real---will out and find its place in the world eventually. Patience and ignoring the nonsense is hard, but rewarding to those who have it and believe in what they do.