never enough
I could live happily inside a cello.
Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750), Suite No. 3 in C major for Unaccompanied Cello; Nathan Chan (1993-), live, San Francisco, 8/17/14
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lagniappe
art beat: more from Monday at the Art Institute of Chicago
Josef Koudelka (1938-), Slovakia, 1966 (from Gypsies)
Nationality Doubtful, through tomorrow
only rock ’n’ roll
Cloud Nothings, “I’m Not Part of Me,” live, Chicago, 2014
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lagniappe
art beat: more from Monday at the Art Institute of Chicago
Josef Koudelka (1938-), Spain, 1975
Nationality Doubtful, through September 21st
Passed over, again, for a MacArthur “genius” grant? Me, too. This guy, though, has reason—625,000 reasons—to celebrate.
Steve Coleman and Five Elements,* live, Switzerland (Cully Jazz Festival), 2013
Steve Coleman took up the alto saxophone when he was a freshman at South Shore High School and within a few years inevitably was drawn into the orbit of one of Chicago’s greatest jazzmen: Von Freeman.
It was Freeman, a tenor saxophone giant who died two years ago at age 88, who welcomed Coleman into the rigors of the jazz life, setting him on a course that has led to Coleman winning one of America’s most prestigious and lucrative arts awards, a MacArthur Fellowship. Like each recipient, Coleman will receive a total of $625,000, dispensed quarterly over the next five years, from the Chicago-based John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation.
“I realized that (Freeman) is a major player, and he’s right here in the neighborhood,” recalls Coleman, who lives in Allentown, Pa., but always has considered himself a product of musical Chicago.
“He’s somebody I consider one of my mentors, but the rest of the city too. There were a lot of local players I was into,” adds Coleman, citing especially altoist Bunky Green. “Even the blues scene. I’d go to Theresa’s and the Checkerboard — everything about the city influenced me, but mainly the South Side.”
*SC (1957-), alto saxophone; Jonathan Finlayson, trumpet; Anthony Tidd, bass; Sean Rickman, drums.
tonight in Chicago
These guys will be at the Hideout, as will I.
Survival Unit III (Joe McPhee, tenor saxophone, pocket trumpet; Fred Lonberg-Holm, cello; Michael Zerang, drums), live, Denmark (Copenhagen), 2013
I could live a thousand years and never tire of going out in the dark to hear music.
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lagniappe
art beat: Monday at the Art Institute of Chicago (brief stop after lunch)
Josef Koudelka (1938-), Slovakia, 1963 (from Gypsies)
Nationality Doubtful, through September 21st
passings
Joe Sample, keyboard player, composer, February 1, 1939-September 12, 2014
Digable Planets with guests Lester Bowie (trumpet), Melvin “Wah Wah Watson” Ragin (guitar), Joe Sample (keyboards), “Flyin’ High in the Brooklyn Sky,” live, New York, 1990s
As much as I love Lester, a MCOTD Hall-of-Famer, this performance could get along without him. Same with Wah Wah Watson. Not Joe—he makes everybody sound better.
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lagniappe
random thoughts
Life doesn’t end; it stops.
His music, which I’ve been listening to for over forty years, never grows old. If anything, the opposite is true. Year after year, it gets stronger, deeper, fresher.
Blind Willie Johnson, “Trouble Will Soon Be Over” (with Willie B. Harris), 1929
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lagniappe
reading table
I love the past tense, but you can’t live there.
—John Koethe, “Stele” (fragment; ROTC Kills, 2012)
David T. Little (1978-), Haunt of Last Nightfall; Third Coast Percussion, live
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lagniappe
musical thoughts
It’s not hard to imagine a world where the different kinds of music could be counted. Maybe there’d be 49, or 94, or 949. Thank God, or whatever, we don’t live there.
sounds of Chicago
Robbie Fulks, “Let’s Kill Saturday Night” (R. Fulks), live, Norway (Bergen), 2013
***
Here’s another take—his 1998 recording.
William Basinski, “Disintegration Loop 1.1,” 2001
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lagniappe
reading table
Photograph from September 11
by Wislawa Szymborska (1923-2012; MCOTD Hall-of-Famer; translated from Polish by Clare Cavanagh and Stanislaw Baranczak)They jumped from the burning floors—one, two, a few more,higher, lower.The photograph halted them in life,and now keeps themabove the earth toward the earth.Each is still complete,with a particular faceand blood well hidden.There’s enough timefor hair to come loose,for keys and coinsto fall from pockets.They’re still within the air’s reach,within the compass of placesthat have just now opened.I can do only two things for them—describe this flightand not add a last line.
music clip of the day 