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Cool! I started something without even trying... Love those suggestions, but I wanna play too. How 'bout: "Snoopy's Fight Song" "Reincarnation of Woodstock" "Wam Bam Thank You Peppermint Patty" "Dog Callin' Blues" "E's Flat (Charlie Brown's) Flat (on his back) Too" "Song With Pumpkin" "Orange Was the Color of Her Dress, then Pig Pen Showed Up..."

I think the DEEP ONE only wants his punctuation corrected, Patty. No need to make any substantive changes. DEEP has his own style as you mentioned.

Conn ( A Linguist), I belive you misunderstood this sentence. The reference is to a "still" as in a distillery. We've changed it to "distillery" even though the meaning is different. A "still" is illegal as opposed to a distillery. If you missed it then the average reader will miss it so "distillery" it is. Thanks. DEEP My bad, DEEP. So sorry. My head is still in football right now. Cancel my suggestion. Patty: How about taking point next time??? You football fanatics!! A formidable task, given the unique expressions and colourful discriptive phrases of the author. I will if I'm given permission to do so by our thread-originator. The missive is written in an interesting, conversational tone and style, so it is a challenge, to say the least, to proof, without destroying the piece' originality. I'm tempted to rip out entire passages, but that's only because the thoughts are being expressed differently than I would express them. But, that's it's charm, if that's the word. The corrections you've made, along with pointing out of flat-out wrong usage of particular words are realtively easy. The problem becomes how to do more, without turning the piece into your or mine, rather than Steve's thoughts. Something to ponder.....

Conn ( A Linguist), I belive you misunderstood this sentence. The reference is to a "still" as in a distillery. We've changed it to "distillery" even though the meaning is different. A "still" is illegal as opposed to a distillery. If you missed it then the average reader will miss it so "distillery" it is. Thanks. DEEP My bad, DEEP. So sorry. My head is still in football right now. Cancel my suggestion. Patty: How about taking point next time???

Happy Birthday Patty!! Get a good book, good wine, hopefully some material on early jazz with players sporting odd nicknames. Tip the glass a little to all of us. We love you over here!

PaTTY, CAN THE NICKNAMES UNTIL I GET THIS PROOF READ. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Conn....Paulie, Check in quick. Tension and release: the mechanism of life. Our hearts beat, our lungs breathe, blood flows and nourishes our bodies' other members. Distill and bottle this mystery and you've got music, most elemental of the arts. Many are the base, conflicting ingredients tried and tested in the metaphoric still, but few are they who humbly purvey Purified Disparate Spirits ...[ethereal theme UP] It was a cold day in hell when Mr. Bigtime New York City Jazzcat insinuated himself into my life. Hell in 1966 was the U. S. Army at Camp Casey, South Korea. As conscripted volunteers in the Seventh Infantry Division Band, our only consolation was that we were temporarily exempt from that napalm-hot hell south of ol’ China down Vietnam way. Not only was there ice on our rice, but we were also subjected to the daily penances of digging ditches, moving rocks, cleaning latrines, polishing brass, cutting grass and painting everything that didn't move shades of gray (basic training, indeed!). We regularly hauled concertina wire, large tents and small stoves to the field, set up bivouac among the honeypots (shitholes), and then commenced guard duty for several days at a time, four hours on, four hours off. After breaking it all down and hauling it back to Camp Casey, we relaxed by cleaning all those muddy tents and sooty little stoves. The oxymoron "martial music" and the attendant mickeymouse ceremonials were incidental to our mission. Officers to the left of us, sergeants to the right, our grim preoccupation was to keep a low profile and gut it out for thirteen months. As Mr. Bigtime Staten Island First Army Band sauntered into the second hooch, our quonset-on-the-tundra, he took a long disdainful look around his new barracks and sniffed, "This is merely an inconvenience." Veteran inmates clamored vainly to disabuse him of his cool bravado, but he persisted. "They don't even know I'm here," he intoned. I immediately hated the arrogant bastard. Mr. Bigtime Exile, recently separated from fellow jazzcats Dave Liebman, Mike Garson, Donald Hahn, Steve Grossman and their ilk, had the supremely confident demeanor that typified--to the impressionable--New York City hipness. Sensing my alien vibe, he zeroed in. I was entitled by seniority to inherit a coveted corner bunk near one door of the second hooch. The vacating occupant, a weasel like (aren't they all?) clarinet player, was due to leave this hell for "the world." Mr. Bigtime Tipper slipped him a fin, preemptively buying my targeted living space. I sputtered my profane objections, but lost the battle. If I didn't adjust to the new regime, Mr. Toughman threatened, he'd work my mind over until I was talking to myself. Like all new arrivals, Mr. Drumperious was quarantined during his first two weeks in Korea. However, this policy was oppressive to him, since he was impatient to sample Asian culture in the nearby village of Tongduchon (yeah, he wanted to get laid). He tried to convince, cajole or con everyone in the band to buy him a forged "slickie" pass on the black market. All stood firm against his entreaties, mindful of the serious disciplinary risks involved--all except me. I was the sucker who cracked just to shut up his New York whine. Being pretty slick myself, I explicitly briefed Mr. Bigtime Horny on my infallible Plan B for returning to the post at curfew. We were to meet at the main gate a few minutes before midnight. In the event that word was passed back that the Military Police were collecting passes, legit or otherwise, for periodic scrutiny, he and I would dash to a different, little-used gate where the M. P.'s were known to be less meticulous. Does it surprise you to learn that Spec. 4 Different Drummer didn't show before the final beat of the I2 O'clock blues? As always, he set his own tempo-- and took me down with him for the kicker. In the morning our company commander, a defector from Castro's Cuba aptly named Candido, performed a conga riff on our sorry asses, then dismissed us. At that point I had to jab Pfc. Bigtime Pumpkin hard in the ribs as a reminder to execute a proper salute and about-face before marching out of Capt. Candido's office. (His civilian instinct was to just turn and split) As we headed back to the second hooch, I couldn't resist the delectable temptation to twist the blade. "They know you're here now." Thus a forced friendship was forged from our loss of rank, loss of pay and two weeks of extra duty. Settling into my embezzled crib, "D" campaigned in earnest to redeem himself and to convert his bandmates into disciples. He possessed an eclectic array of jazz tapes and the knowledge to explicate them. Every time he cranked up the box was a revelation. Charismatic and didactic, garrulous, querulous, gregarious and hilarious, he was the ideal leader of misfits. He corrected one guy who was snapping his fingers on one and three. Poppin' on two and four, the cat learned to swing. Prof. "D" elucidated the jazz argot, e.g. "hip" means perceptive, au courant (pardon my French, I'm paraphrasing here). Liberally lubricated by beer, pot and the then-legal Korean "mental energizer," Anapong, this son of a saloonkeeper extolled the affinity between a "taste" of intoxicant and "tasty" musical passages. And in all seriousness, I'm here to testify that "D" was a mentor to the late tenor player (and pride of Washington, D. C.) Carter Jefferson. Young Pvt. Jefferson was talented but directionless. Under "D"'s tutelage, he found the path that led him, in his maturity, to the likes of Art Blakey and Woody Shaw. Rest in peace, Carter, you crazy little motherfucker. Danny's generous spirit has shone throughout the many years I've known him. He got me a gig with the Glenn Miller Orchestra when he was a new hire himself. Later, he jumped that band in Japan to retrieve his Korean family--the twin sons he had himself helped deliver and their mother, his impish, constant wife, DuYeon. I met them at San Francisco International the exhausted day they all arrived to begin a better life. Danny had one dollar in his pocket and no job, but the beaming pride of a patriarch. We've laughed many times about the "mere inconvenience" of his Korean sojourns, but I've seen the satisfaction that he quietly enjoys whenever he can provide an opportunity for family, friend or fellow musician. Generous? Hell, he introduced me to my fifth wife, the only one of my ex's to pay me alimony! I've related these "war" stories for two reasons. 1) To illustrate what I've come to know is characteristic and consistent of the man and the musician. Danny's traits are often tensely contradictory. He leads without leaning heavily; he plays with simultaneous ebullience and restraint; he celebrates tradition with eyes and ears open to innovation; he's loyal and fickle, duty-bound and footloose. He only plays music in the key of D-Bop: his cues impel you to blow, to stretch out if you like, but you must know and negotiate the changes, follow the form, speak the idiom, make a statement, Tuff. Love him or hate him, Danny is the most confoundedly self-effacing egomaniac I've ever met. Therefore, reason number- - 2) This is my sweet revenge. I've witnessed the evolution of D-Bop's musical concept from his sextet at the duMaurier Jazz Festival in Toronto, 1993 and '95, through his small band of Bloviators and the initial Big Band Bloviation in upstate New York, to the present product. Peter Mack, by our putative leader’s admission, the rhythm and business pilot of their collaboration, has been a key player in the purification process. Look for new ingredients (hint: an Oliver Nelson chart or two) on their next purveyance, Volume 3, in September; aught-four. Until then... Purified Disparate Spirits abound; Imbibe those which are at hand... [ethereal theme FADE AND OUT] Steve Groebner 7th Inf. Div. Band, 1966-67

Check out Clint's avatar, Patty. May I say, in my typically elegant, decorous and restrained way.............MY MY, WOW???????? As for remembering the last time I answered in the negative to a gentleman's request, well, it's easier to remember the last time I said "yes". I say "I'm flattered, but no" much more often.

Check out Clint's avatar, Patty.

Geez, I'd come to think of this thread as a private Deep/Patricia place, now I see something from SGUD! If Danny and Patty get back to panting I can ignore another thread and "have a life".

Patty is correct. Got it DEEPSTER?

PATTY, How bout Walter "FOOTS" Thomas ?? or even better.. The legendary pianist DARNELL"DILDY" WILTSIE?? DEEP

tense is incorrect. He has participated... Same with the paragraph on Lew Tabackin: "He has been involved..." is better. And the second to last sentence: "He's featured extensively..." doesn't work. Try: He is extensively featured... okay? That's all the nitpicking I've got time for. Patty: Your Turn! Conn (definitely a linguist), Corrections made. CLASP !! DEEP

tense is incorrect. He has participated... Same with the paragraph on Lew Tabackin: "He has been involved..." is better. And the second to last sentence: "He's featured extensively..." doesn't work. Try: He is extensively featured... okay? That's all the nitpicking I've got time for. Patty: Your Turn!

Patty: come put some of your book-learning to use here. Help DEEP out. It's the DRY SEASON and he's suffering. Nothing duller than proofreading something. "For extensive biographical data on the holdovers from our first BBB release, please refer to my notes..." etc.

Ya see, Patty, I spent and still spend a lot of time in NYC. I always have a knife with me. In the situation I posed, I would shoot and not ask ANY questions. Before calling the police I would place the knife in the intruder's hand. I learned long ago that if you are threatened in your own home and you have to shoot an intruder make sure that you pull his body back in your dwelling before calling the police. Also place a weapon in the victim's hand and break glass from the outside inward to show an intrusion occurred. I keep guns within reach at all times, including when travelling, walking on deserted paths, and especially when sleeping.

True enough, Patty, but DEEP has extra tolerance for members of the FAIR SEX. Yeah, Dan, I guess you should have started your own thread there. We have to be quiet so DEEP can HIBERNATE through his dry season. (I love using those CAP LETTERS in DEEP fashion. Should have patented that one DEEP!) Remember, DEEP: HOT TEA (with a dab of milk like the English do!)

I gotta put my two cents in here. I must politely disagree with some of Patty's comments, for the incident with Dan pretty much highlights all that is wrong with Mike's board. First of all, Patty, one thing I like about Dan is his passion and emotion. I tend to be emotionally-restrained on boards myself, but for Dan to do so would be dishonest and a violation of his personality. Dan: stay the way you are. Mike has always appeared as "nice" to me, but he has no right interrupting threads and directing them like a traffic cop. Well, he may have the right, but that's intrusive shit to me; and I aint posting in those kinds of boards. I much prefer Jim A's attitude here: it's his board and he has the right to come down on people, but his is extremely tolerant and doesn't try to direct threads like Mike did there. Allow people to be themselves. If they end up annoying everyone then they are skating on thin ice and can end up being banned like GregM was. For God's sake, allow people to be themselves. Jim A. does. Mike Ricci, apparently has more difficulty doing that. Mike jumps in to interrupt the interesting discussion between Kevin B and Chris A. I was learning all kinds of stuff in that exchange. It was a fascinating if contentious discussion. Ricci steps in for what?? I don't need that kind of crap. Kudos to you, Dan. Keep on TRUCKING!!

That quote was taken from the book. I like the film too, but it stole...er borrowed so much from Conrad's book that I felt the film was a bit compromised as a result. I mean the idea was terrific. The filmmaker should have covered his tracks a little better. Advice for Patty: I would love to talk books with you, but I doubt that DEEP wants BOOK CHATTER on his thread. Just a HUNCH...

Thanks Patty, I'll get over it. Echoing Mr Kurtz: "Oh, the HORROR...the HORROR!"

Patty, Please... DON'T GO THERE!!

There you go... Feel better now Patty??

No offense to anyone here, BUT I find all this dissing of Eric inanely, sophmorically kneejerk, almost ritualistic and quite literally reationary, as if y'all have a deep need to prove that you are (no longer?) one of those taken in by the hype. High school level politics aside, Eric was a great synthesis of a wide range of influences (pretty much the full spectrum of blues guitar). It's also quite funny that it's his guitar playing that's being slagged here; his singing, songwriting and bandleading abilities are better candidates for distain. Certainly, he was never a radical innovater, never wanted to be one either. And just as certainly, his guitar work has on the whole fallen off since peaking about '66--partly due to his perfectly valid choice to emphasize singing and songs more (the Big Pink revelation, although he should've got this from the blues which is fundamentally a vocal narrative), and partly due to the corosive effects of various self indulgences like cream's endless solos, drugs, alcohol, Patty Harrison, etc. Layla, at least, was a better album than it might otherwise have been precisely because it turns away from the dead end of guitar heroics to use the quitar playing in support of the songs. Something I rarely if ever see mentioned is the bad effect (sic) the wha-wha pedal had on his playing by obscuring its real strengths: a razor sharp attack and finely nuanced phrasing and dynamics. Yes I am familiar with and love Otis Rush, Magic Sam, Freddie, Albert, BB, Buddy Guy, Peter Green, Mick Taylor, Mike Bloomfield, etc. (Not Albert Collins, totally one dimensional to me). Also Grant, Kenny, Charlie C., Django, etc. Please add a little sugar to this if it's too cranky/bitter for your taste!

I'm must bummed about the start of WORK SEASON, Patty.

You're starting to sound like DEEP, Patty. (Sorry, dumb joke day)

PATTY, My gig went fine. The toughest part about my day was to stay sober for the drive. The gig was in Ithaca, New York in an intimate French restaurant called Les Ducs. I didn't juice after my nap and made the 25 mile trip to Ithaca without incident. Went to Steve Brown's crib and had a couple Canadian Clubs, transfereed the bass to his short and rode the rest of the way with him. They fed us at the restaurant so I had venison marinated in gin plus a couple vodka martinis. Hit at 9 and from then to midnight I only had a couple glasses of champagne. Managed to get home without incident too but really watched myself. I got home around 1:30. Today is the last day of the "wet season" and it isn't a day too soon. This last "wet season" has been rough. Gonna wind down today with a couple bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon. I'll also probably finish up what's left in this 1.75 liter of Philadelphia Blended Whiskey. My regimen is that whenever I awaken on Jan. 2nd the "dry season" checks in and that's it until July 4th. Had fun at the gig. Just played jazz and the audience dug it. The guy wants us back a couple times a month but I'm not keen on performing for spectators so I'll have to think about it. Have some wine today for me. DEEP