When we last saw Miles, playing in Germany in 1967, he was wearing a suit and tie. Here, two years later, his wardrobe is headed in a new direction. So is his music.
Miles Davis Quintet,* live, France (Antibes), 1969
“Milestones,” “Footprints,” “’Round Midnight”
*MD, trumpet; Wayne Shorter, tenor and soprano saxophones; Chick Corea, electric piano; Dave Holland, bass; Jack DeJohnette, drums.
Willie Neal Johnson & The Gospel Keynotes
“Just For Me,” live
“Well, all right?” Gospel singers often follow a song, immediately, with a question. This opens a performance up, welcoming anyone who wants to come in, believer or not.
Jerry McCain, singer, songwriter, harmonica player
June 18, 1930-March 28, 2012
These tracks were recorded, in the mid-1950s, as demos in Jerry’s living room in Gadsden, Alabama, using a single microphone and a one-track home tape recorder.
Sorrow everywhere. Slaughter everywhere. If babies
are not starving someplace, they are starving
somewhere else. With flies in their nostrils.
But we enjoy our lives because that’s what God wants.
Otherwise the mornings before summer dawn would not
be made so fine. The Bengal tiger would not
be fashioned so miraculously well. The poor women
at the fountain are laughing together between
the suffering they have known and the awfulness
in their future, smiling and laughing while somebody
in the village is very sick. There is laughter
every day in the terrible streets of Calcutta,
and the women laugh in the cages of Bombay.
If we deny our happiness, resist our satisfaction,
we lessen the importance of their deprivation.
We must risk delight. We can do without pleasure,
but not delight. Not enjoyment. We must have
the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless
furnace of this world. To make injustice the only
measure of our attention is to praise the Devil.
If the locomotive of the Lord runs us down,
we should give thanks that the end had magnitude.
We must admit there will be music despite everything.
We stand at the prow again of a small ship
anchored late at night in the tiny port
looking over to the sleeping island: the waterfront
is three shuttered cafés and one naked light burning.
To hear the faint sound of oars in the silence as a rowboat
comes slowly out and then goes back is truly worth
all the years of sorrow that are to come.
—Jack Gilbert, “A Brief for the Defense” (Collected Poems, 2012)
Slim and the Victory Aries, live, Paducah, Kentucky, c. 2008
“Alright Now”
***
“Shoes”
**********
lagniappe
musical thoughts
[I]n the African-American gospel tradition, the music is the liturgy. . . . If Jesus spoke in parables because it was hard, otherwise, for him to make clear what he intended, gospel music has a similar form, a parabolic form, as if to suggest: what we want you to know about God is in the shape of this statement, in the experience of singing this music and listening to this music. If you can be transported here, inside the church, by this music, you can be transported out there.
How many sonic experiences are as dizzying as the one offered this time each year by WKCR-FM (Columbia University)? First there’s 24 hours, straight, of Ornette. The next 24? Bix, Bix, Bix.
Frankie Trumbauer and His Orchestra (feat. Bix Beiderbecke, cornet), “There’ll Come A Time (Wait and See),” 1928