music clip of the day

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Category: guitar

Sunday, 10/3/10

three takes

You don’t need no baggage, you just get on board.

“People Get Ready”

Curtis Mayfield, live, England (London), 1988

*****

The Impressions (featuring Curtis Mayfield), 1965

More Curtis Mayfield? Here. Here. Here.

*****

Al Green, live, Washington, D.C., 1983 (Gospel According to Al Green, 1984)

More Al Green? Here. Here. Here.

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lagniappe

radio gems: gospel

Gospel Memories
WLUW-FM
Chicago, Illinois
Saturday, 10-11 a.m. (CST) (archived shows)

Saturday, 10/2/10

The other night I saw these two bands—both are from Africa—at Chicago’s Logan Square Auditorium.

Kenge, Kenge (Kenya), live, Denmark (Roskilde), 2008

*****

Khaira Arby (Mali), live, Mali (Festival of the Desert), 2010

“Haidara”

*****

“Sourgou”

*****

Scribblings from the show (habit picked up reviewing live jazz for the Chicago Reader):

Kenge Kenge’s bass player at the start of their set: “We’ve been in America for the last three months. This is our last show. And we want to have some fun.”

Drum is king.

As much as I appreciate the musical experiences available via thenet, they’re no substitute for live music. Among the casualties of the technological filtering are bass and drums—this music’s heartbeat.

This stage isn’t a dividing line. It’s porous, readily penetrable in both directions. Those onstage come down and dance; those offstage go up and dance. When everybody’s dancing—onstage, offstage—the performer/audience line dissolves.

African music, live, is a full-body experience: you listen not just with your ears but with your hips, your feet.

If folks aren’t dancing, this music ain’t happening.

Kinetic elegance.

At times the dancers look as if they’re in a trance.

Lightness, buoyancy, drive: this is music that takes you in its arms, lifts you up, carries you away.

Friday, 10/1/10

three takes

He’s the guy who, early in his career, while an arranger and producer for Curtom Records, brought Baby Huey & the Babysitters to the attention of Curtis Mayfield.

“Little Ghetto Boy” (Donny Hathaway)

take 1

John Legend & The Roots

Live (recording studio), 2010

*****

take 2

Live, New York, 9/23/10

Want more of John Legend & The Roots? Here.

*****

take 3

Donny Hathaway, live, 1972

*****

lagniappe

Donny Hathaway, “The Ghetto,” live, 1970s

*****

Donny Hathaway died in 1979 at the age of 33. He was a casualty of mental illness. Afflicted with severe chronic depression and ultimately diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, he leapt to his death out of a New York City hotel room.

*****

Curtis Mayfield on Donny Hathaway:

To see him there in the studio at about 21 years old, directing all these real big session guys like he’d been doing it for years, was a tremendous sight to see. But he always believed in himself. He always believed in his talent. He wasn’t conceited about it, but he knew he could do anything these guys could do and almost certainly better. I’d have loved to sign him as artist, but it wasn’t to be.

*****

Bassist Christian McBride on Donny Hathaway:

You can tell that he listened to Stravinsky. He listened to Debussy. He was a musician who was the full 360-degree circle.

Thursday, 9/30/10

Mali—one of the poorest countries economically, one of the richest musically.

Amadou & Mariam

Live, Mali (Festival of the Desert), 2010

***

“Dimanche A Bamako,” live (with David Gilmour, guitar), England (Islington), 2009

***

“Welcome To Mali,” “Africa,” live, South Africa (Johannesburg), 2010

Want more? Here.

*****

I saw Amadou & Mariam, like Orchestra Baobob, with my son Alex—last year at Chicago’s Park West.

How far away does Africa seem to Alex?

About as far, I think, as South Carolina seemed to me at 23.

Wednesday, 9/29/10

From a small orchestra in Germany to one in Senegal.

Orchestra Baobab, “Utru horas,” live

Here’s a big (23rd) birthday shout-out to my son Alex—with whom I saw these guys a few years ago at Chicago’s (much missed) HotHouse.

Monday, 9/27/10

Something new to sing in the shower.

Felix del Pilar Perez Castro, “Amor Loco,” Soy Cuba (I Am Cuba, 1964)

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lagniappe

Paul Anka, “Crazy Love” (1958)

*****

mail

In response to yesterday’s clips:

Amen!

Sunday, 9/26/10

two takes

I’m too close to heaven, I just can’t turn around . . .

“Too Close To Heaven”

Brooklyn All-Stars (featuring Hardie Clifton), live, 1989

***

Bessie Griffin, live

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lagniappe

radio gems: gospel

Sinner’s Crossroads
WFMU-FM
Jersey City, New Jersey; Mt. Hope, New York
Thursday, 8-9 p.m. (EST) (archived shows)
One of my all-time favorite radio shows.

*****

reading table

Shelby had been fooled about Florida, but that was okay. She wasn’t the first. She’d imagined a place that was warm and inviting and she’d gotten a place that was without seasons and sickeningly hot. She’d wanted palm trees and she’d gotten grizzly, low oaks. She’d wanted surfers instead of rednecks. She’d thought Florida would make her feel glamorous or something, and there was a region of Florida that might’ve done just that, but it wasn’t this part. It was okay, though. It was something different. It wasn’t the Midwest. It wasn’t a place where you could look around and plainly see, for miles, that nothing worthwhile was going on.

***

“Everybody calls this the real Florida . . . . I don’t understand an expression like that. Is part of the state imaginary?”

—John Brandon, Citrus County (2010)

Friday, 9/24/10

Career plan for the next life, if tap-dancer and rubboard player don’t pan out: reggae bassist.

Lee “Scratch” Perry, Junior Murvin, The Heptones, The Congos, The Upsetters, “Play On Mr. Music,” live, Jamaica (Roots Rock Reggae [1977]),

Tuesday, 9/21/10

No tenor player moves me more.

Von Freeman

“I Can’t Get Started” (excerpt), live, Belgium, 1992

*****

“Blues for Sunnyland,” live, Germany (Berlin), 2002

*****

Live, Chicago, 2009

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lagniappe

Being a local legend can be a mixed bag. Consider Von Freeman, the 72-year-old tenor saxophonist who reigns as Chicago’s preeminent local jazz legend. In the 40s, he performed with bop genius Charlie Parker. In the 60s, Miles Davis tried to hire him as a replacement for John Coltrane. In the 80s, he and his son Chico, a formidable saxophonist himself, shared an album with the first family of jazz: trumpeter Wynton Marsalis, his saxophonist brother Branford, and his pianist father Ellis (Fathers and Sons, Columbia). And in the 90s, he’s performed at New York’s most prestigious concert halls–Lincoln Center and Carnegie Hall.

But legendary status can have drawbacks. It’s opened a lot of doors for Freeman, making him a familiar figure at a variety of local clubs (including the Bop Shop, the Green Mill, Pops for Champagne, and Andy’s). But appearing so often at so many places can make a performer seem as unremarkable as a crooked alderman. And the tag “legendary,” which smacks of the sort of hushed reverence usually reserved for the dead, can make a performer seem less a vital artist–one who continues to take chances–than a bloodless icon.

But Freeman is neither unremarkable nor bloodless. Hearing him live is like taking a tour of a fun house: you never know what you’ll find behind the next door.

Upon entering, the first thing you notice is that the floor seems tilted–the result of Freeman’s distinctively oblique intonation. His sour off-center tone–which occasionally prompts charges that he plays out of tune–invests the best of his performances with a hard-edged emotional intensity. When he played Charlie Parker’s “Confirmation” on a recent weekend at the Jazz Showcase, where he led a fine quintet (Brad Goode on trumpet; Joan Hickey on piano; Mendai on bass; Robert Shy on drums one night and Michael Raynor on drums the other), he bristled with energy but also sounded wounded. And when he played the ballad “Lover Man,” he conjured up a world that was unremittingly bleak.

Freeman’s improvisations take you quickly from one room to the next. Some of them, like the meowing slurs during an unaccompanied solo on the ballad “Body and Soul,” are breathtakingly strange. Others, like the wild chorus at the top of his range on Duke Ellington’s “Caravan,” offer hair-raising adventure.

Not all of his ideas are equally striking. But jazz improvisation on the order of Freeman’s is necessarily a hit-or-miss affair. As Somerset Maugham put it, only the mediocre are always at their best.

Throughout the recent performance Freeman played the role of genial host. One moment he was encouraging the bassist: “Hit it, Mendai!” The next he was indulging in Von-speak, adding the ending “-ski” to proper nouns, turning himself into “Vonski” and the Duke Ellington piece into “Caravanski.” And in another he was explaining, in a tone half mocking and half serious, the unpredictable nature of jazz: “Sometimes this horn plays and sometimes it doesn’t. I have no control over it.”

At their best, Freeman’s performances dazzle in ways all too rarely encountered in jazz these days. While the well-mannered music of many of today’s most acclaimed performers (Wynton Marsalis, Marcus Roberts) may have its appeal, it generally lacks those undomesticated virtues that Freeman’s music celebrates: daring, originality, and unpredictability. Like the man himself, Freeman’s musical values are a product of this city. He began developing them while attending DuSable High School, where–like many other Chicago-bred jazz giants, including fellow tenor saxophonists Gene Ammons, Johnny Griffin, and John Gilmore–he studied under the fabled music teacher Captain Walter Dyett. As Freeman once explained in a New York Times interview, Dyett stressed originality, preaching a message both simple and elusive: “Try and find yourself.” Even when performing classic material (Ellington, Parker, Monk), Freeman’s music sounds brand-new. The difference between him and many younger musicians who have achieved greater renown is like that between a fun house and a museum.

“Jazz Tilt-A-Whirl,” (review of Von Freeman, Jazz Showcase, 1/13-14/1995), Chicago Reader, 1/26/1995 (yeah, I’m cannibalizing myself here)

*****

. . . one of the most original and creative tenormen of the 1950s and, in light of other work I’ve heard by him, a great tenor player by any standards.

***

An exceptional artist, he belongs in jazz’s pantheon.

Harvey Pekar, JazzTimes, 1-2/2001

Friday, 9/17/10

Many years ago, when I was younger than my sons are now (22, 19), I listened to this album (Forever Changes) day after day after day.

Arthur Lee and Love, “Alone Again Or,” “A House Is Not A Motel,” England (London), 2003