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mizanation

jazz saved my life?

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Re coltrane and monk live album - I have mixed feelings about it. I was really put off by the sound quality, made it hard for me to get into (quality of sound/production is important to me, I don't think it's just about "the music").

But at the same time, coltrane's playing on that album is freakin awesome. And the drummer (forgotten who it was) was carving it up. I am definitely a big fan of monk in general but I wasn't that blown away by what he was playing on this particular album. I love his solo recordings though. Anyone heard Monk Alone in San Fransisco? Recorded over an afternoon in a hall, mostly first takes, and all of it is brilliant.

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nicola conte..yeah good stuff... anyone listens to bobby hughes combination/experience?

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moondog, anyone?

i love moondog

i'm pissed i missed peter brotzmann last year when he came around to philadelphia

this year, the odean pope record knocked my socks off

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^^^ word. R.I.P. Tyrone Hill

choice genes - check out john coltrane live in japan. one of his best live recordings i think. it was recorded a year before his death. when he arrived in tokyo, yamaha gave him and pharoah sanders brand new alto saxophones which they played for the concert. it wasn't released in the u.s. until the early 90s. truly amazing stuff.

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^^^ no, haven't heard them yet. i'm embarrased to admit that i'm just starting to get into japanese music artists. i will check them out.

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what about contemporary artists that wear their Jazz influences on their sleeves - people like Triosk, Dictaphone, Burnt Friedman and Kieran Hebden's collab with Steve Reid?

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gradual projection is a great live recording of kaoru abe

and masayuki takanayagi together

i think it was kaoru abe that used to play his sax in traffic to improve the force of his breath

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^^^ sometimes he does it a little too much though. if you ever see him live, you know what i'm talking about.

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^^^ cheap, blue train is a great album. lee morgan, the trumpet player is still a teenager and killing it.

knowing you, i bet you'd really like john coltrane's "a love supreme".

lee morgan also made a bunch of great albums. for you, i'd suggest "caramba" first. probably his most underrated album, but one of his best.

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i'm surprised you wouldn't suggest morgan's sidewinder instead

i love his music----its a definite contact high-----opiates

actually, i'd say cheap would like everything ever put out on impulse! i do

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i love all the standard guys and gals (coltrane, miles, ella, diz, the bird etc...)

when i was working at a music store years ago i had this co worker who had been playing jazz organ and drums most of life. i was really into swing and early be bop at the time but he introduced me to all kinds of stuff (loved jimmy smith) and told me the context of music at the time. i really loved those drum "battle" records but my favorite is by far krupa vs. rich. dizzy, eldridge, illinois, peterson, plus the drum pyrotechnics= greatness.

i cant be bothered with most modern jazz however.

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I would recomend Freddie Hubbard's 70's output. Had no idea this stuff exsisted. His playing is pretty sick during this time period. Also he had Herbie Hancock, George Benson, and Ron Carter on some of these albums.

Just listened The Ear of the Behearer by Dewey Redman and Out Front by Booker Little. Pretty sick stuff. Recommended listening.

Kenny Garrett is the best alto sax player right now.

Yes, jazz did save my life.

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i'm surprised you wouldn't suggest morgan's sidewinder instead

i love his music----its a definite contact high-----opiates

actually, i'd say cheap would like everything ever put out on impulse! i do

i'm with you, ddml.

i recommended caramaba before sidewinder because it's more groove oriented which i think cheep would prefer. i never get tired of listening to caramba.

sidewinder is second and then cornbread.

also, lee morgan with the jazz messengers is crazy--especially on moanin'. can't believe he was only 18 or so.

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I would recomend Freddie Hubbard's 70's output. Had no idea this stuff exsisted. His playing is pretty sick during this time period. Also he had Herbie Hancock, George Benson, and Ron Carter on some of these albums.

Just listened The Ear of the Behearer by Dewey Redman and Out Front by Booker Little. Pretty sick stuff. Recommended listening.

Kenny Garrett is the best alto sax player right now.

Yes, jazz did save my life.

the albums on the Creed Taylor International (CTI) label are somewhat underrated. unfortunately, some of the criticism is well deserved. creed taylor often forced his players to put in tracks that were pretty questionable. that's why you'll have albums with both classic tracks and crappy tracks.

anyways, some of my favorites off of CTI:

freddie hubbard: sky dive and red clay

george benson: white rabbit

chet baker: she was too good to me

stanley turrentine: sugar

again, not all the tracks are great. but the tracks that are good are classics.

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i've got red clay and turrentine's sugar (the cover on the latter is one of my faves!) and enjoy them much

i went through an intense jazz phase and i'm only lately easing back into it

madlib's blue note comp is a great record for those looking to explore the genre

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madlib's blue note comp is a great record for those looking to explore the genre

great cd... i wish i still had it.

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Miz. Why the fuck you always know whats what?.

Me personally, I have a limited appreciation of jazz. No one's fault but my own, or maybe the fact that I listened to so much of it growing up that I don't know what's what. Its just like one long session from end-to-end. That said, I'll reccount a little experience that one of your earlier quotes made me reminisce on. If there's one thing Jazz is good for, it's that.

Young Wolves is like 14 year old. Fresh into highschool, in the midst of a world of popularity, over excited drug and alcohol abuse, and what might of been the early semblance of Love. My Uncle on my Mom's side of the family has a knowledge of the music that borders on encyclopedic. But not in that corny-ass record collector way. He's just any Brooklyn Jew who was raised on it, and loves the music with all his heart. He decides that I need to get educated, and so he suggests that we go to the Village Vangaurd one weekend evening, to check out a young player by the name of Roy Hargrove. Outside of my routine, but I'm like, cool, lets handle it.

I show up at the spot on one of those brisk fall evenings where the city is breathing all crisp like, and my uncle is in the Pizza shop on the corner. he gives be a hearty hand clasp, and a hug, and after devouring the remainder of his slice is like "Yo...lets step around the corner real quick" . We hit the block...dont even know what street. West 4th, little west 12th, Jane st.? All gets confusing to me round there. He pulls the spliff out of his right pocket. Shit's all cobbled together, looks like an old man's gnarled wooden cane. "It's prolly not the good shit you're used to" he says "but it gets the job done". "Don't even worry about the cops, just relax, youre with me, man". So I do as told, and he sparks it up. It begins canoeing almost immediately. I put some spit on it as it's passed my way, and we make quick work of it between the two of us while he tells me about some girl he used to sleep with not far from here. I wonder to myself if my aunt at home knows about this. The weed, a possible affair...shit.

We pop some gum as he pays our way and we go down the steps. It's all a hazeof red, and women down there. Some waitress with a low neckline comes over and asks me "what would I like." "there's a two-drink minimum" she says. I get cokes, and lay back as Roy begins to play. He knows what he's doing, and accordingly, I pay attention. The type of attention that pays itself. We stay for two sets, and between them, I drop a quarter in the pay-phone and call the girl I'm mildly in love with, an Italian girl from deep-Queens, and leave a message talking about how I wish she could here this, this and that...etcetera, etcetera...But I don't. It's just me and my uncle, and the music, and its better that way.

I rode the train home that night all awash in feeling. You know those nights. When everything just falls into place, and despite the fact that Monday will bring a whole new week of bullshit...for that moment, everything is just allright.

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Miz. Why the fuck you always know whats what?.

Me personally, I have a limited appreciation of jazz. No one's fault but my own, or maybe the fact that I listened to so much of it growing up that I don't know what's what. Its just like one long session from end-to-end. That said, I'll reccount a little experience that one of your earlier quotes made me reminisce on. If there's one thing Jazz is good for, it's that.

Young Wolves is like 14 year old. Fresh into highschool, in the midst of a world of popularity, over excited drug and alcohol abuse, and what might of been the early semblance of Love. My Uncle on my Mom's side of the family has a knowledge of the music that borders on encyclopedic. But not in that corny-ass record collector way. He's just any Brooklyn Jew who was raised on it, and loves the music with all his heart. He decides that I need to get educated, and so he suggests that we go to the Village Vangaurd one weekend evening, to check out a young player by the name of Roy Hargrove. Outside of my routine, but I'm like, cool, lets handle it.

I show up at the spot on one of those brisk fall evenings where the city is breathing all crisp like, and my uncle is in the Pizza shop on the corner. he gives be a hearty hand clasp, and a hug, and after devouring the remainder of his slice is like "Yo...lets step around the corner real quick" . We hit the block...dont even know what street. West 4th, little west 12th, Jane st.? All gets confusing to me round there. He pulls the spliff out of his right pocket. Shit's all cobbled together, looks like an old man's gnarled wooden cane. "It's prolly not the good shit you're used to" he says "but it gets the job done". "Don't even worry about the cops, just relax, youre with me, man". So I do as told, and he sparks it up. It begins canoeing almost immediately. I put some spit on it as it's passed my way, and we make quick work of it between the two of us while he tells me about some girl he used to sleep with not far from here. I wonder to myself if my aunt at home knows about this. The weed, a possible affair...shit.

We pop some gum as he pays our way and we go down the steps. It's all a hazeof red, and women down there. Some waitress with a low neckline comes over and asks me "what would I like." "there's a two-drink minimum" she says. I get cokes, and lay back as Roy begins to play. He knows what he's doing, and accordingly, I pay attention. The type of attention that pays itself. We stay for two sets, and between them, I drop a quarter in the pay-phone and call the girl I'm mildly in love with, an Italian girl from deep-Queens, and leave a message talking about how I wish she could here this, this and that...etcetera, etcetera...But I don't. It's just me and my uncle, and the music, and its better that way.

I rode the train home that night all awash in feeling. You know those nights. When everything just falls into place, and despite the fact that Monday will bring a whole new week of bullshit...for that moment, everything is just allright.

awesome. perfect.

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