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The Sound I felt ~ A Terror is More Certain . . .by Bob Kaufman featuring Gil Fuller & Monterey Jazz Festival – Angel City Blues – Feat. Dizzy Gillespie

Watts Riots
Watts Riots

Forty years ago today, large sections of South Los Angeles went up in flames. The violence and looting came to be known as the Watts riots. The chaos was a precursor to the urban unrest other cities would soon experience. In a few moments, we’ll hear from a man who continues to activism that sprang from the 1965 riots, but, first, some history. ~ Adolfo Guzman Lopez, Reporter for KPCC

It has been fifty years when the first time I felt terror in August of 1965 when the Watts riots broke out and the Tsunami of hate, violence, fear which through the veil of animosity lay the remains of life.  The 19” television in our family room seemed to have drowned out the music and replaced it with noise.  Bob Kaufman’s A Terror is More Certain… and Angel City Blues acoustically recounts the story, beginning light and deliberate to an absolute terror filled frenzy of destruction and loss.  What do you feel and hear?  Peace & Out!  JBC 😎 & ❤

A Terror is More Certain . . .

By Bob Kaufman

A terror is more certain than all the rare desirable popular songs I
know, than even now when all of my myths have become . . . , & walk
around in black shiny galoshes & carry dirty laundry to & fro, & read
great books & don’t know criminals intimately, & publish fat books of
the month & have wifeys that are lousy in bed & never realize how
bad my writing is because i am poor & symbolize myself.

A certain desirable is more terror to me than all that’s rare. How
come they don’t give an academic award to all the movie stars that
die? they’re still acting, ain’t they? even if they are dead, it should
not be held against them, after all they still have the public on their
side, how would you like to be a dead movie star & have people sit-
ting on your grave?

A rare me is more certain than desirable, that’s all the terror, there
are too many basketball players in this world & too much progress
in the burial industry, lets have old fashioned funerals & stand
around & forgive & borrow wet handkerchiefs, & sneak out for
drinks & help load the guy into the wagon, & feel sad & make a
date with the widow & believe we don’t see all of the people sink-
ing into the subways going to basketball games & designing baby
sitters at Madison Square Garden.

A certain me is desirable, what is so rare as air in a Poem, why can’t
i write a foreign movie like all the other boys my age, I confess to all
the crimes committed during the month of April, but not to save
my own neck, which is adjustable, & telescopes into any size noose,
I’m doing it to save Gertrude Stein’s reputation, who is secretly
flying model airplanes for the underground railroad stern gang of
oz, & is the favorite in all the bouts . . . not officially opened yet
Holland tunnel is the one who writes untrue phone numbers.

A desirable poem is more rare than rare, & terror is certain, who
wants to be a poet & work a twenty four hour shift, they never ask
you first, who wants to listen to the radiator play string quartets all
night. I want to be allowed not to be, suppose a man wants to
swing on the kiddie swings, should people be allowed to stab him
with queer looks & drag him off to bed & its no fun on top of a
lady when her hair is full of shiny little machines & your a**
reflected in that television screen, who wants to be a poet if you
f**k on t.v. & all those cowboys watching.

Bob Kaufman, “A Terror is More Certain . . .” from Cranial Guitar. Copyright © 1996 by Eileen Kaufman. Reprinted by permission of Coffee House Press. http://www.coffeehousepress.org

Source: Cranial Guitar (Coffee House Press, 1996)

hope faith & love

© Copyright  2011-2015 by Jazzybeatchick/JazZenista/Jannat Marie. All rights reserved.

This material is has been copyrighted,  feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks and added to websites; please do not change the content, provide credit by including the author’s name @ http://jazzybeatchick.com and your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

The Sounds I felt ~Riff Shots, Licks, Mimesis and Acoustic & Video Snaps from The Village Vanguard, Me, My Father and Ahmad Jamal circa 1969 Accompanied by Ahmad Jamal – “Frank’s Tune”

NewYork_VillageVanguard_Courtesyof singyoursongthemovie_dot_com
NewYork_VillageVanguard_Courtesyof singyoursongthemovie_dot_com

My family and I moved back to New York in the Fall of 1969.  We lived in Jamaica Estates in Queens.  My mother said that the one thing she loved about living in New York City was the change of Seasons.  LA was was a stark contrast and a culture shock for me.  I remembered living on Riverside Drive and going to the park with all the other children and their mom’s or nanny’s.  Night life was a whole different world.  There was no comparison, the opening of the Los Angeles Music Center (an upcoming post) was a gala event in 1967.  Limousines and everyone all glammed up ~ tux’s and evening gowns that stole the show from the stars that shone that night in the sky.  Bling everywhere!  Night life in the New York Jazz scene had its own magic.  Everybody was a superstar.  The subways meant you travelled in style.  You didn’t need a limo.  Besides everyone had the chance to sit next to Dizzy or Miles or Byrd and if you knew that you were in their presence, you smiled and cocked your head to greet them.  There was no standing on ceremony.  The only ceremony was in the club.  There is something majestic about New York, snow, traffic, subways, the hot dog and pretzels stands, and I can’t forget the pervasive smell of chestnuts that were roasting signaling the holiday season was near.  We took the F train in and got out on 14th Street in the Village.

Village-Vanguard-interior
Village-Vanguard-interior

I saw the red awning blanketed with snow that glistened in the evening lights, I felt my heart skip a beat.  The Village Vangard’s grand opening on February 22, 1935, by Max Gordon. At first, it featured many forms of music  and poetry~ folk music and beat poetry, but it switched to an all-jazz format in 1957. The Village Vanguard, is a small underground club nestled in the heart of Greenwich Village and to the best of my recollection one of the hottest places in the world to hear the best jazz,  We made our way down stairs to a table that was right next to the piano.  My father ordered Jambalaya and Shrimp Étouffée with Dirty Rice.  A spotlight shown on the piano that was tucked into a corner.  I will always wonder how the heck they got this Steinway Grand Piano down a narrow flight of stairs, so narrow mind you, you have to turn sideways to descend them.  The clapping began to fill the air and  Ahmad walked out smiling and bowing as he made his way to the piano.  He gave my father a warm hug  and bowed to our table then sat down to play Snowfall, and Frank’s Tune.  These were songs my father told me they worked together on. My father said that Ahmad was like Errol Garner and Joe Henderson who had a way with the ivory that Count Basie and Duke would applaud.  What a treat to be caught up in the mindfulness and sacredness of Jazz in a well established club in the Village.  That night was so unique and as perfect  as an individual snow flake  Tom MoonNPR musical correspondent put it like this, Ahmad Jamal is one of the great Zen masters of jazz piano. He plays just what is needed and nothing more… every phrase is perfect.”  Peace Out!  JBC 😎  ❤  Happy Nu Year!  Here is a snap of M. Jamal playing at the Alhambra so you can get a feel of what it was like at the Village Vanguard back in 1969.  I hope you enjoy it.  Peace and Love Out!  JBC 😎 & ❤

Happy Holidaze 2 U from the Pacific Northwest.

hope faith & love

© Copyright  2011-2015 by Jazzybeatchick/JazZenista/Jannat Marie. All rights reserved.

This material is has been copyrighted,  feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks and added to websites; please do not change the content, provide credit by including the author’s name @ http://jazzybeatchick.com and your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

 

Moveable Feast Monday ~ JazzFoodieBytes ~ Macadamia Nut Cheese Raw Vegan Eggplant Lasagna ~Accompanied by Eric Dolphy’s “Something Sweet ~ Something Tender” 1999 Remaster

Movable Feast Monday

I love Moveable Feast Monday mornings because it is my day to kick my week into gear listening to jazz and conjuring up recipes that comfort the soul.   So get your groove on with…M. Dolphy

 

 

Now for the Pièce de résistance!  Bon Appétit! Peace and Love Out!  JBC 😎 & ❤

© Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

 

Jazzin’ Thru Thursday ~ I am NOT a Breast Cancer SURVIVOR: The Survivor’s Guilt is a Fate worse than death featuring Francesco Santucci – “Last Train to Heaven”

Hope is that thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops… at all.  ~Emily Dickinson

 

Salvador Dali's Exploded-Head
Salvador Dali’s Exploded-Head

October has been designated as Breast Cancer Month.  Everywhere I have looked over the last 17 years it seems as though folks have been in  denial and use terms like…I AM CURED, SURVIVOR, IT CAN’T COME BACK…blah blah blah ad nauseum.  I realize that I cannot be defined as being a Breast Cancer Survivor ~ I am NOT my breast cancer diagnosis, I am so much more.  Macmillan dictionary defines a Survivor as:  Someone or something that still exists after an event that could have killed or destroyed them; someone or something that still exists after every other member of a group has died or been destroyed;  someone who manages to continue a successful life despite very bad experiences.  Well it doesn’t capture my breast cancer journey nor even touch the quality of life I had with my mother.  It makes the mistaken assumption that I am:  merely existing; or that I still exist after every loved one and other members had died; or have manage to continue a successful life. That would be a big fat NOT!  God brings challenges into our lives to make us stronger and remember those things on the way to living a life of grace.  Here is an excerpt to my memoir, Being Jazz where I the lessons from jazz mindfulness improv truly taught me how to turn adversity into love.

Contrary to popular belief, everyone has the ability to change their circumstance, point of view and/or state of mind.  Now you say She must be tripping….  Well, I was skeptical about the whole change your mind and life thing, too.  Breast cancer was the second adversity that changed that for me.  It made me question what I thought; my beliefs and why I was so unhappy.  Going through chemotherapy I discovered that I wanted to desperately live with music and not die with the noise of surgeries, chemotherapy, loss of my hair and everything I believed made me happy.  That being said, this was by no means something that could change overnight.  It meant to go back to my fondest memories.  I had to get rid of all of my attachments and material things because quite honestly, they didn’t mean much.  Dad died six years earlier and mom’s cancer returned after so many years.  It was just us.  My friends found it hard to talk to me.  They simply didn’t know what to do or say.  At the time, I was angry and frustrated about everything.  I wanted to give up.  It began in November of 2000.  I was having reconstructive surgery. Here’s an excerpt from Being Jazz that became my major Aha! Moment…

“It was Thursday, November 30th, 2000, I was 46 years old.  A week after Thanksgiving, this was going to be my big Reconstructive Surgery Day.  It was my attempt to make up for all of the losses and the ravages that resulted from the traumatic complications from my bilateral mastectomy.   Life, as I knew it six months before today, would be restored.  I wanted to believe that life was the space between the notes and would free me from the exiled island where I had come to live.  Today, I realize that every breath I take is the space between the notes in a melody that is fueled by God’s love and grace.  I learned that surrendering, accepting and embracing everything that has happened in my “so called perfect life” for example, … in 1990 being — completely paralyzed from Guillain-Barré Syndrome; my father’s death in 1994; my mom’s return of cancer that was terminal in 1997; my breast cancer diagnosis on April 14, 2000 (ironically on my father’s birthday); my bilateral mastectomy in June 2000 with all of its complications followed by my chemotherapy with all of its’ dreadful side effects in July,2000; my reconstructive surgery November of 2000 and finally the loss of my career as a successful paralegal after 20 years. Yes, today   is going to be my day; I get the chance to make things right with my soul and universe within.  I hoped that it was not just an illusion.?

The downside is that it is easy to get lost in the maze of traditional medicine and living a life that is not based on quality.  There is a sense of apathy and a sinking feeling that as long as you ain’t in the acute phase then there is nothing to worry about.  Somehow that creeps the hell out of me.   Mom survived six years when the Oncologist  predicted she would only live a year and a half to two years.  We fought the good fight and when I was at the threshold of the “Last Exit” and my reconstructive surgery failed and on the way into back into the O.R. my mother told them to ignore my DNR and when I asked her why she said…”It is not your time yet!  I surrendered and she even though which resulted in having ten  subsequent painful ambulatory surgeries because the graft failed.   Jazz served as my way of escape because just before I went the anesthetic  my father’s CD was playing in the OR.  It brought back the happiest times of my life.  Jazz has its own code for living.  Words are the reflection of what is going on inside you and I have discovered from Carlos Castaneda that we must be impeccable in our word choices.  So for me Survivor is OUT and Living with Breast Cancer [livingwithbreastcancer.org] is IN and a more appropriate term.  What do you think?  Are you existing as a survivor or are you learning to dance on life’s shores of living the life that is waiting for you?  I hope you dance…Peace & Love Out!  JBC 😎 & ❤

Japanese translation for meaning

© Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

 

Word Play Wednesday…Here’s The Only Way Left For Regular Guys/Gals Like You And Me To Listen 2 ur life as a Portal to Self Discovery and Expression using Mindfulness Improv to turn Adversity into Love feat. RelaxingRecords – Smooth Jazz Evening – Brain Music

wordplayIII

My year of living musically focused on the ability to listen to discern one style from another.  There are specific characteristics that can allow you to search for the truth in our hearts and through self-expression that bring us closer.  Listening intentionally make those sounds come true.  Hearing is the foyer to listening in the parlor, where self-analysis leads to a better understanding of yourself and others.  I had a conversation the other day and it felt as though they were not listening.  I could tell from the questions they asked.  Hearing has become commonplace and superficial in its nature.  Your voice is not heard because of the weeds that grow out of only hearing, and not engaging.  It is a symphony of cacophony.  The sounds at the end of the day left me feeling barren and alone.  I befriended my voice in my head, only to hear how sterile and contrived life had become.  It was a conspiracy of nay-sayers that can bring only darkness to the light.  Hard hearted they come and crowd my voice separating me from my soul.  On the bright side it is only temporary and you can turn things around in any given moment.

Hearing is illusion personified by benign neglect.  Reading aloud in a language you cannot understand.   To have ears, that had become defended by the madness and noise of society.  Let’s Play

 “Listening”

Jannat Marie

His cadence moved me.

tonality and voicing askew

began as a thought.

Timing in one note

A picture in a thousand words

Reveals culture’s rage

emerged over time “freeing” the beat

flavored by emotional riffs

hearing in the seasoning thyme

Tasting memories

hot crusted timbre sings

crying out for freedom

Feeling the sounds in the sun

seeing a warm moist noise of forgiveness

Hearing life’s rhythm in 4/4 time

senses filled with harmony

where meeting counterpoint to point

at the synergy of knowing

equality of rights anoint

Dancing in darkness

becomes a conspiracy of the truth.

 

So jazz does not have to be an acquired taste.  I began listening to jazz in my mother’s womb.  Dad took me to rehearsals and recording of the Monterey Jazz Festival Orchestra when I was nine years old and I became a fan instantly.  Transforming the sounds to words and art I felt inside.  I had fallen in love with sound and words.  Dad taught the basics about jazz music and the musicians form of self expression and improvisation.  It will enhance your listening experience immensely.  So, lean back, open your mind and heart as we begin our wonderful process of exploring jazz terrains and vistas.  Peace Out!

Japanese translation for meaning
Japanese translation for meaning

© Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artisthttp://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

 

Tell it Slant Tuesday ~ Fifty Years Under the Influence “Jack Kerouac” and “the Beats” is a Lie! Accompanied by David Chesky – “Transcendental Tripping” feat. Billy Drummond, Javon Jackson, Jermey Pelt & Peter Washington

For a movement that was all about the “now”, the Beats have had a pretty good run on a self=serving, drug induced coma like ideology that, when getting a closer look is counter intuitive to the life he lived and wrote about.  It has been over 50 years since Jack Kerouac published his first novel, “The Town and the City” where he identified the sub counterculture  the “Beat Generation.”  Unfortunately he left out the essence and most vital feature of the  ”Counterculture Movement.  That includes  Jazz, Black People, Women and Well, Pretty Much Everything Else in and out of time.

 

Kerouac Courtesy of itstartswithindotcom
Kerouac Courtesy of itstartswithindotcom

The Beat industry kicked into overdrive on and off since Kerouac’s death. His On the Road is considered the “Holy Grail” of the Beats.  It is a jumble of car journeys, joints and jazz that had already skipped over an entire musical genre before its publication in 1957. It continued to spiral out of control and moved further  from its original context from which it was conceived.   The movie became popular a few years ago however, it was popularized for reasons completely different from what it was intended.  The generation that embraced it was iconoclastic in its experience and understanding of the Civil Rights movement and further perpetuates a “feeling good and cool” which is not grounded in anything but a Selfie imagining being a selfie in a selfless world.

First Space Selfie Courtesy of Pinterest
First Space Selfie Courtesy of Pinterest

Fortunately for its reputation, On the Road is not a book many people would want to read once or even twice.   I barely could get into what he was trying to get across.  Sort of like being the “James Dean” of the writer set in terms of a rebel without a cause or the uncause of the counter culture of the Beatnicks.  It is reported to have been written in three weeks – at tell it slant, but there is no truths not even a message.  It seems to come across as being pretentious, superlative and nauseatingly repetitive and logy.  I can’t figure out why everyone seems to be suffering from withdrawal and was crying out the word “sad”.  Maybe that is the Selfie.  However, there is a big problem with the book on its face.  The egregious treatment of women  — none of whom were depicted as having an intelligent thought.  This sensibility continues into the racial realm, if you lived in the ‘50’s or the early 60’s you know that wanting to be Black from a white suburban youth’s perspective was non existent and simply a fabrication that is so very far from the truth.  It is believed that this insensitive, shallow and false personification non extant POV  is what formed the basis of Norman Mailer’s ponderous 1957 essay The White Negro, which was allegedly inspired by Kerourac’s Beat example. “In the worst of perversion, promiscuity, pimpery, drug addiction, rape, razor-slash bottle-break, what-have-you,” Mailer opined, “the Negro discovered and elaborated a morality of the bottom…”  This seems to be some misguided, misrepresented and an inaccurate account that had become typical for adversities of racial unrest, discrimination, chauvinism and supremacy that insticated the Civil Rights Movement in America.  Jazz is an American art form that inspired genius such as Ellington’s Shakespeare suite

Designers and Labels of the 1950's
Designers and Labels of the 1950’s

Miles Davis’ music score for Louis Malle’s film Ascenseur pour L’echafaud.  Unfortunately to Mailer, Kerouac and the Beats jazz was about drugs, alcohol and incoherency.   This misunderstanding of jazz, Blacks, Women basically American life accounts for the focal problem of what the Beats were really about.  Nothing!  That has got to change and there is no time like the present to set things right.  I’ve been there and to a large extent, still am, but I am about to set the Jazz world on fire because I have been immersed in the Jazz culture all of my life and have had the opportunity to see Jazz differently.  Being Jazz has become a truth that through mindfulness improv meditation, has brought the truth into the light and let the falsehoods and lies remain in the shadows because it does nothing when it comes to serving the American Culture and the world for that matter.  It is time to be awakened to our differences and not feared and demeaned by them.  Peace and Love,  JBC 😎 and <3.

The Torah teaches  You shall do no injustice in judgment...
The Torah teaches You shall do no injustice in judgment…

© Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

Movable Feast Monday ~ JazzFoodie Bytes ~Awesome “Roasted Winter Vegetable Jambalaya” Accompanied by Kenny Barron – “In The Meantime”

Roasted Winter Vegetable Jambala with garden grown root veggies.  Courtesy a la pinterest.com
Roasted Winter Vegetable Jambalaya with garden grown root veggies. Courtesy a la pinterest.com

I started cooking when I was in the 7th grade in Los Angeles when I signed up for Home Economics and Woodworking.  Growing up with my father meant we were always in some sort of class, on Saturday’s I remember sitting at the white marble table in our family room with my brother and my father bringing in electronic parts so we could either build an oscillator or on this particular Saturday, we built a Crystal Radio.  My father had remodeled our house on Wilton place which was basically an eleven room house.  Entertaining was a large part of the LA scene.  So when I came home elated that I mastered “White Sauce” on the stove.  My father thought it was only fitting that he get the Time Life World Recipe Cookbooks with pictures you would salivate just looking at them.  My father was the real cook in the house.  So he not only taught me how to cook Jambalaya the authentic way.  Cancer has taught me the value of not compromising the taste for good healthy foods that not only sustains you but promotes wellness and thriving.  So my Jazz foodie comrades here is a version that you will not only enjoy but, meat lovers will find it a tasty repast.  Now things would not be proper if you didn’t add the sounds,,, So let’s get to it….

Awesome “Roasted Winter Vegetable Jambalaya”

Ingredients:

I.

1 c                   diced yellow and red onion

½ c                  seeded and diced green pepper

1 stalk             celery with leaves finely chopped

3-5 clove       Garlic  minced

¼ tsp.                         chili powder

¼ tsp.             cayenne

Sea Salt 2 taste

3 tbl.               EVOO + 1 tbl  Coconut oil

¾ c      Glenn Muir chopped canned tomatoes w/juice

1 tbl.   Tomato Paste

 

1 c       brown rice (my favorite is “Easy Cooking Whole Grain Brown Rice Suoyhaka Genmai”  rinsed and soaked overnight and strained for1 hour before cooking.

3 c       Homemade Vegetable Broth

 

II.

Roasted Vegetables

 

1 c       peeled and diced carrots

1 c       peeled and diced golden beets

1 c       peeled and diced parsnips

1 c       peeled and diced Yukon Gold potatoes

1 c       peeled and diced white sweet potatoes

½ c      baby portabella mushrooms

 

III.

 

Garnish

½ c      fresh chopped cilantro

½ c      scallions with green tops finely chopped

 

Sauté onion, paprika, red pepper, chili powder, etc. in I for 5 min add brown rice

and sauté until smell the nutty aroma mix in diced tomatoes and tomato paste and stir for 3 to 5 minutes.   Remove and set aside.

 

  1. Roast vegetables on foil or parchment paper. Mix all vegetables in a bowl with EVOO, Creole seasoning and spread evenly in a shallow pan.  Dust with pepper.

Roast for 40 to 45 minutes.

 

Bring rice mixture back onto the burner.  Heat the vegetable broth to light boil and turn on rice mixture and pour broth into Dutch oven.  Add the roasted veggies and mix very well with wooden spoon.  Turn heat to low medium to light simmer, cover and cook for approximately 45 minutes  remove from stove leave lid on and let stand and steam for 10 minutes more.  I prefer to use the same pot for that down home feel, you may want to use your favorite serving dish.  Now it is time to put the Garnish of cilantro and green onions (scallions) .  Serve  with greens or simple salad, French garlic bread and I like sweet green tea, but, wine or beer works.  Perfect for football, soccer or even tennis matches.  I like to have a light dessert like sorbet and fresh fruit.  Pipe in the sound for a nice ambiance and Bon Appétit.  Peace & Love!  JBC 😎 ❤

© Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

Free Write Friday ~ Takin’ a Trip Down Memory Lane “These Times Are A Changin'” featuring Chicago Jazz Philharmonic – The Face of the Enemy Is Always Changing

“If Music is a Place — then Jazz is the City, Folk is the Wilderness, Rock is the Road, Classical is a Temple.”
― Vera Nazarian

Abstract Art Inspired by Music Courtesy of Bertiehigghns.com
Abstract Art Inspired by Music Courtesy of Bertiehigghns.com

The only constant in life is change.  I have decided to take a trip down memory lane in the way back machine.  Dad let me digress from listening to jazz on my  Mickey Mouse Record Player that he bought me and would let me buy Bob Dylan, among other folk singers, like Joan Baez, Judy Collins, Rita Coolidge Carly Simon, Carol King and Joni Mitchell to name a few..  I wasn’t so much a Hippie ‘cause multiracial folks was not even a category in that LA Black and White society.  1965 changed so many things on so many fronts.  Here are the lyrics to this powerful timeless song  These Times are a Changin’  you can watch the video.  I thought that “The Face of the Enemy Is Always Changing” in the present moment is way more fitting.  FYI ~  It was a year and eight months before the Watts riots and the Civil Rights Movement and the moment that life in America would undergo a Cultural Revolution.  Can You Feel it?   Peace and Love Out!  JBC 😎 <3.

These Times are a Changin’

Come gather ’round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You’ll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you
Is worth savin’
Then you better start swimmin’
Or you’ll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin’.

Come writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won’t come again
And don’t speak too soon
For the wheel’s still in spin
And there’s no tellin’ who
That it’s namin’
For the loser now
Will be later to win
For the times they are a-changin’.

Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call
Don’t stand in the doorway
Don’t block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he who has stalled
There’s a battle outside
And it is ragin’
It’ll soon shake your windows
And rattle your walls
For the times they are a-changin’.

Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don’t criticize
What you can’t understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is
Rapidly agin’
Please get out of the new one
If you can’t lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin’.

The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is
Rapidly fadin’
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin’.

These were the best of times and the worst of times growing up in L.A.   Here are highlights that I remember for that year.  Beetles appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show February 9th, 1964.  Jazz musicians dealt with those times with humor with stunts like:  When Dizzy Gillespie ran for president promising to rename the White House “the Blues House” and would appoint Ray Charles librarian of Congress, Miles Davis head of the CIA, and Malcolm X attorney general.  The miniskirt debuted that signaled a rapid change in the mores of the decade.  It was a tumultuous time for race relations which was about to hit the fan.  I was only feeling the tension that was becoming so thick you could cut it with a knife.  Peace Out!

© Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

Poet’s Beat on Jazz Canvas ~ “Toward An Organic Philosophy” by Kenneth Rexroth featuring Schawkie Roth – “Awareness Folded in Mystery”

“Toward An Organic Philosophy” by Kenneth Rexroth

Coastal Forest Black And White
Coastal Forest Black And White

SPRING, COAST RANGE

The glow of my campfire is dark red and flameless,
The circle of white ash widens around it.
I get up and walk off in the moonlight and each time
I look back the red is deeper and the light smaller.
Scorpio rises late with Mars caught in his claw;
The moon has come before them, the light
Like a choir of children in the young laurel trees.
It is April; the shad, the hot headed fish,
Climbs the rivers; there is trillium in the damp canyons;
The foetid adder’s tongue lolls by the waterfall.
There was a farm at this campsite once, it is almost gone now.
There were sheep here after the farm, and fire
Long ago burned the redwoods out of the gulch,
The Douglas fir off the ridge; today the soil
Is stony and incoherent, the small stones lie flat
And plate the surface like scales.
Twenty years ago the spreading gully
Toppled the big oak over onto the house.
Now there is nothing left but the foundations
Hidden in poison oak, and above on the ridge,
Six lonely, ominous fenceposts;
The redwood beams of the barn make a footbridge
Over the deep waterless creek bed;
The hills are covered with wild oats
Dry and white by midsummer.
I walk in the random survivals of the orchard.
In a patch of moonlight a mole
Shakes his tunnel like an angry vein;
Orion walks waist deep in the fog coming in from the ocean;
Leo crouches under the zenith.
There are tiny hard fruits already on the plum trees.
The purity of the apple blossoms is incredible.
As the wind dies down their fragrance
Clusters around them like thick smoke.
All the day they roared with bees, in the moonlight
They are silent and immaculate.

SPRING, SIERRA NEVADA

Spring of full bloom in Sierra Nevada
Spring of full bloom in Sierra Nevada

Once more golden Scorpio glows over the col
Above Deadman Canyon, orderly and brilliant,
Like an inspiration in the brain of Archimedes.
I have seen its light over the warm sea,
Over the coconut beaches, phosphorescent and pulsing;
And the living light in the water
Shivering away from the swimming hand,
Creeping against the lips, filling the floating hair.
Here where the glaciers have been and the snow stays late,
The stone is clean as light, the light steady as stone.
The relationship of stone, ice and stars is systematic and enduring:
Novelty emerges after centuries, a rock spalls from the cliffs,
The glacier contracts and turns grayer,
The stream cuts new sinuosities in the meadow,
The sun moves through space and the earth with it,
The stars change places.
The snow has lasted longer this year,
Than anyone can remember. The lowest meadow is a lake,
The next two are snowfields, the pass is covered with snow,
Only the steepest rocks are bare. Between the pass
And the last meadow the snowfield gapes for a hundred feet,
In a narrow blue chasm through which a waterfall drops,
Spangled with sunset at the top, black and muscular
Where it disappears again in the snow.
The world is filled with hidden running water
That pounds in the ears like ether;
The granite needles rise from the snow, pale as steel;
Above the copper mine the cliff is blood red,
The white snow breaks at the edge of it;
The sky comes close to my eyes like the blue eyes
Of someone kissed in sleep.
I descend to camp,
To the young, sticky, wrinkled aspen leaves,
To the first violets and wild cyclamen,
And cook supper in the blue twilight.
All night deer pass over the snow on sharp hooves,
In the darkness their cold muzzles find the new grass
At the edge of the snow.

FALL, SIERRA NEVADA

Fall In The NC Mountains-L
Fall In The NC Mountains-L

This morning the hermit thrush was absent at breakfast,
His place was taken by a family of chickadees;
At noon a flock of humming birds passed south,
Whirling in the wind up over the saddle between
Ritter and Banner, following the migration lane
Of the Sierra crest southward to Guatemala.
All day cloud shadows have moved over the face of the mountain,
The shadow of a golden eagle weaving between them
Over the face of the glacier.
At sunset the half-moon rides on the bent back of the Scorpion,
The Great Bear kneels on the mountain.
Ten degrees below the moon
Venus sets in the haze arising from the Great Valley.
Jupiter, in opposition to the sun, rises in the alpenglow
Between the burnt peaks. The ventriloquial belling
Of an owl mingles with the bells of the waterfall.
Now there is distant thunder on the east wind.
The east face of the mountain above me
Is lit with far off lightnings and the sky
Above the pass blazes momentarily like an aurora.
It is storming in the White Mountains,
On the arid fourteen-thousand-foot peaks;
Rain is falling on the narrow gray ranges
And dark sedge meadows and white salt flats of Nevada.
Just before moonset a small dense cumulus cloud,
Gleaming like a grape cluster of metal,
Moves over the Sierra crest and grows down the westward slope.
Frost, the color and quality of the cloud,
Lies over all the marsh below my campsite.
The wiry clumps of dwarfed whitebark pines
Are smoky and indistinct in the moonlight,
Only their shadows are really visible.
The lake is immobile and holds the stars
And the peaks deep in itself without a quiver.
In the shallows the geometrical tendrils of ice
Spread their wonderful mathematics in silence.
All night the eyes of deer shine for an instant
As they cross the radius of my firelight.
In the morning the trail will look like a sheep driveway,
All the tracks will point down to the lower canyon.
“Thus,” says Tyndall, “the concerns of this little place
Are changed and fashioned by the obliquity of the earth’s axis,
The chain of dependence which runs through creation,
And links the roll of a planet alike with the interests
Of marmots and of men.”

 

Japanese translation for meaning
Japanese translation for meaning

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

Jazz In Your Ear ~ How to Listen to Jazz and Connect with the Universe Within Like a Pro ~ featuring The Shadow Of Your Smile ~2 Styles Dizzy Gillespie and Kenny G ~ Can U Hear Me Now?

Listening to the Universe within
Listening to the Universe within

When I started listening ( I mean really listening) to jazz music, it was daunting at first.  It was sorta like when I began meditating, I fell asleep! Ouch!  My bad! So this can happen to you when you first listened but even if it doesn’t it could be very enlightening by learning jazz lingo and what to listen for.  I am going to kick off 2014 with a weekly breakdown of the 7 aphorisms of understanding and listening to jazz.  Now that doesn’t have anything to do with the way you impart your style, swagger or look, so don those kicks, put on your favorite shades, grab the chaise and lean in and let the riffs begin.  Here are tips of what to listen for:

∞       How the soloist and the chord playing musician interact. 

∞  Comping (an abbreviation for “accompanying”) is a term used in jazz music to describe chordsrhythms, and counter melodies that keyboard players (piano or organ) or guitar players use to support a jazz musician’s (horn player’s) improvised solo or melody lines.

∞   Call and Response is an interaction between musicians.   The first is the Call phrase is played and the second phrase played is the commentary or Response to the first phrase. It corresponds to the call and response pattern found in a conversation between two people.  It is the basic element of musical form and is the most popular music phrasing in jazz.

∞       Rhythm ~ The backbone and is the most critical component of jazz.  Listen to how the drummer strengthens the bass player. In a Walking bassline the bass and drummer on the ride cymbal are playing the same rhythm.  When the bass player is not playing a walking bassline, the drummer will solo and will play the a dramatically improvised phrase.

∞       Solo Improvisation is where the artist will play without the accompaniment of the drummer. The soloist will sometimes lock on to an idea or phrase and the drummer will mimic the phrase during their improvisational exchange (call and response).

∞       Melody & Timing:   When listening to the solo improvisation keep the song’s melody and rhythm timing in your head to know where the musicians are in the song.  After the musicians have finished playing through the “form” of the song, the drummer will generally play some sort of rhythmic phrase to indicate they are going back to the beginning again of the song. (aka HeadChart).

The 1st track performed by Dizzy Gillespie was nominated for the 1966 Grammy.

There is nothing more beautiful than listening to Kenny G.

Two different artistic expressions and improvisations.  How many of the tips did you hear?

Jazz offers a great listening experience and for folks willing and with a little patience you will emotionally respond to the artist that you are listening to. Now it is a whole different talk show when it comes to going live or going Memorex.  Dizzy was a total performer and somewhat of a comedian when it came to being on stage. I thought I would give you an example …

Uploaded on Nov 21, 2008

Dizzy Gillespie and quintet recorded in 1965 to coincide with the release of the album Dizzy on The French Riviera, with Kenny Barron replacing Lalo Schifrin on piano.

Trumpet – Dizzy Gillespie
Saxaphone/Flute – James Moody
Bass – Christopher White
Piano – Kenny Barron
Drums – Rudy Collins

2 days left to MJF.  If you can’t be there in person, then join me and we will go there in our minds, after all Sun Ra got it…Space Is the Place especially when it’s a head trip…Peace Out!  JBC 😎

Copyright © 2011-14 by Jazzybeatchick. All rights reserved.

This material has been copyrighted,  feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and, provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name @ http://jazzybeatchick.com and your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.