reflections on about two hrs of sleep
woke up this morning with herbie hancock's "maiden voyage" in my head. first heard it on his live v.s.o.p. alb from our nation's bicentennial year, when i became a jazz snob for awhile.
lately, inspahrd by my crate-digging excursions at doc's, i've been rediscovering jazz from the yrs '71 (when i first became aware of ornette, dolphy, and mingus via the pages of creem, of all places) thru around '93 (when my first marriage split up and i lost the thread for awhile). ethan iverson has generated some interesting threads re: the period '73-'90 on the bad plus blog that i've also been revisiting. as much as i revere duke, bird, and trane, those years when i was following developments in the art in real time, and when miles, ornette, and cecil dominated the landscape (note to self: must remember to read howard mandel's book about those three) were the ones when i loved jazz most of all.
this thursday, since the stoogeband isn't practicing, my sweetie 'n' i plan to fall by formerly fonky fred's for the first time in eons to scarf some good chow 'n' hear my lawn guyland homeboy darrin kobetich so i can bestow what seems like a yr's worth of burned cd-r's on him and check out this new instrument called a cumbus that he's recently acquired. da kobe's expressed an interest in the murdered microtonal gtr genius rod poole, who apparently had similar tastes in rock music to yr humble chronicler o' events.
finally, was recently reminded that as recently as 2003 (before i met my sweetie, who has _never_ seen me clean-shaven), i was the owner/operator of a visible chin.
but my life was not complete. i wanted to look like the estimable "inside-outside" tenor titan joe henderson, of whose work i became enamored via his series of recordings for verve in the '90s.
there were obstacles to the realization of this dream. for one, the whole "not being black" thing. also, i can't grow sideburns. (my friend john wilmshurst could grow 'burns of neil youngian proportions, but no goatee. we used to joke about time-sharing the beard.) but a fella can try. can't he?
lately, inspahrd by my crate-digging excursions at doc's, i've been rediscovering jazz from the yrs '71 (when i first became aware of ornette, dolphy, and mingus via the pages of creem, of all places) thru around '93 (when my first marriage split up and i lost the thread for awhile). ethan iverson has generated some interesting threads re: the period '73-'90 on the bad plus blog that i've also been revisiting. as much as i revere duke, bird, and trane, those years when i was following developments in the art in real time, and when miles, ornette, and cecil dominated the landscape (note to self: must remember to read howard mandel's book about those three) were the ones when i loved jazz most of all.
this thursday, since the stoogeband isn't practicing, my sweetie 'n' i plan to fall by formerly fonky fred's for the first time in eons to scarf some good chow 'n' hear my lawn guyland homeboy darrin kobetich so i can bestow what seems like a yr's worth of burned cd-r's on him and check out this new instrument called a cumbus that he's recently acquired. da kobe's expressed an interest in the murdered microtonal gtr genius rod poole, who apparently had similar tastes in rock music to yr humble chronicler o' events.
finally, was recently reminded that as recently as 2003 (before i met my sweetie, who has _never_ seen me clean-shaven), i was the owner/operator of a visible chin.
but my life was not complete. i wanted to look like the estimable "inside-outside" tenor titan joe henderson, of whose work i became enamored via his series of recordings for verve in the '90s.
there were obstacles to the realization of this dream. for one, the whole "not being black" thing. also, i can't grow sideburns. (my friend john wilmshurst could grow 'burns of neil youngian proportions, but no goatee. we used to joke about time-sharing the beard.) but a fella can try. can't he?
posted by stashdauber at 4:29 PM
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