Thrifting

I love thrift stores. We have a few here in Yreka, and as I had a little time after work today I decided to go a-thriftin' for things I like. What do I like, you ask? I like CDs. I'm old school--I like the full, rich sound you get from an actual disc, which is much better than an .mp3 file. I like LPs, too, just in case you were wondering. So, I spent ten bucks at two different stores for four CDs. Yeah--ten bucks for four CDs. The first one is a Dave Brubeck/Gerry Mulligan live collection called We're All Together Again for the First Time which features performances from a 1973 European tour. Yes, it includes "Take Five" as well as the Mulligan tune "Unfinished Woman" and their take on the classic "Sweet Georgia Brown." Good stuff. The next is Ornette Coleman's The Shape of Jazz to Come from 1959, which is exactly my own vintage. It was considered avant-garde at the time, but 54 years is a long time! Joe Jackson's I'm the Man was a big hit when I was a college kid, and I remember listening to his music quite a bit back in those days. All three of those discs, despite the battered cases, are in perfect shape. The last one is Nancy Wilson/Cannonball Adderley, a compilation from the early 60s that was released by Capitol (Blue Note) on CD in 1993. The disc itself looks pretty bad, but all the tunes played just fine. I never listened to jazz singers much until I discovered Billie Holiday and Ella Fitzgerald, since then I've learned to appreciate that music. I'll say it again: four CDs for ten bucks.

I saw a genuine US Navy pea coat in 40XL for five bucks that I almost bought on principle. I certainly don't need another winter coat, but this thing was gorgeous. The wool and lining were in great shape, the buttons were original and intact, and it fit surprisingly well except that the sleeves were a little long. It weighed about ten pounds and came down past my butt like a top coat. A beautiful thing, man, but I'd have to make some serious room in my closet! I remember working at Acme Surplus in Oakland when I was a young lad, and we sold coats like that for a minimum of fifty bucks and often as high as seventy, and that was over thirty years ago. A coat like that is a classic--but not really my thing. I hope some poor working stiff on a budget finds that treasure and keeps himself warm all winter.

Oh, and I picked up a nice long-sleeve shirt for four bucks. My size (15-1/2 by 34), Van Heusen 60/40 cotton/poly broadcloth, white with very thin longitudinal stripes of blue and brown. Dressy, with a spread collar (I have too many of those, I was hoping for the button-type), but will work great as a casual shirt. Not bad for an hour after work.

Hoka-Hoka-HEY! and other tidbits

I'm revisiting Larry Marder's Tales of the Beanworld, a weird yet accessible comic originally published in the late 1980s. Beanworld is hard to describe. It's black-and-white with bold graphics and simple drawings, yet features an oddly compelling story that's part satire and part ecological fable. Hell, I'm not really sure what it is! Beanworld is populated by the likes of Professor Garbanzo, Mr. Spook, Gran'Ma'Pa, the Chow Sol'jers, Beanish, and the Boom'r Band. They live between The Legendary Edge and The Proverbial Sandy Beach, above The Thin Lake and The Four Realities. Below that is the Bone Zone, the Hoi-Polloi Ring Herd, and Der Stinkle. And a bunch of other stuff that makes sense when you are there. Highly recommended--pick it up in digital or hardcover.

We recently watched the excellent 1996 film The Whole Wide World about Robert E. Howard and his ill-fated romance with schoolteacher Novalyne Price.(It's based on her memoirs.) Howard, creator of Conan the Barbarian, was the biggest thing in the pulps yet lived with his parents in a small town in Texas and was viewed suspiciously by the locals for his eccentricities. It's a sad tale, of course, but an uplifting story, mostly because the actors (Vincent D'Onofrio and Renee Zellweger) are superb and bring the characters to life. Add it to your next batch from Netflix, you won't be disappointed.

I came across a very nice used copy of A.E. Housman's A Shropshire Lad in a Mt. Shasta book shop. His poems are real gems and can be read again and again. His style comes across as quaint and old-fashioned but the insights are deep and thoroughly modern. His images are both dark and playful, and you seem to teeter on the knife edge in every stanza, never knowing which way you will fall. Like all great poets he turns the simple into the sublime with seeming effortlessness. Beautiful stuff--read it out loud during the holidays.

Finally, I just finished Pete Townshend's Who I Am (a birthday present!).  The old rockers are cranking out the tell-alls these days, it seems to be the new thing. I suppose they are all of that age where they can relax and reminisce. I loved The Who and was a big fan of Townshend's music, especially Tommy and Quadrophenia. The first 300 pages (yes, it is a huge book) are interesting, he's a candid and straightforward story-teller. I liked learning about the band and how their sound came together, and about "the scene" that spawned so many great acts. I also liked reading about Pete's musical influences and about some of the things that inspired his work. The final 200 pages are harder going, too much "and then this happened" that many autobiographies suffer from, which is why I generally avoid them. But it is still Pete, and his mates Roger, John, and Keith, and that's all good. I first saw The Who in 1976 when I was still in high school and they made quite an impression on my adolescent mind.

That's not all I'm reading or watching these days, just the highlights, but it's enough to write about. So, tell me, what are YOU reading and watching these days?

L.A. Noire

Video games are wasted on me. I spent far too much of my youth avoiding them to have any real skills with buttons and joysticks. I "walk" like a drunken sailor and "drive" like a crackhead. I usually shoot one of the good guys or pump 12 shots into the wall next to the bad guy while he sneers at my incompetence. I got vertigo when I was lost in a Bioshock maze and had to quit the game. I always have the instruction sheet on my lap so I can remember how to play, I never turn off the help screens, and I keep it set in "beginner" mode. "Getting to the next level" means handing the controls to someone else. Suffice to say that 99% of the time my PS3 is used as a blu-ray player. Oh, I take batting practice in MLB 2K9. That's not too tough.

But I had to have L.A. Noire. I had to. A game that looks and feels like a Raymond Chandler story on steroids is my kind of thing. I love the so-called film noir period in Hollywood--nothing gets me more excited than men in grey suits and fedoras chasing unattainable women and hopeless dreams. L.A. Noire works the cops-and-corruption side of the street, a distinct subset of the noir milieu. I usually prefer the stories of sympathetic chumps like Robert Mitchum and Burt Lancaster led astray by fabulous femme fatales. (Who among us wouldn't follow Jane Greer or Lizabeth Scott to their doom?) But Los Angeles in 1947 is great place to be, and Cole Phelps' journey into the heart of the city's power structure is a compelling one.

I can't speak intelligently about "game play." It would be like asking me how an F1 race car handles--did I prefer the McLaren or the Ferrari on the first chicane at Monaco? But I can tell you that L.A. Noire is gorgeous. The film-making, if you can call it that, is first-rate. The soundtrack is perfect, combining the likes of Billie Holiday and Duke Ellington with original scores. I'm blown away by the depth and richness of the scenery and characterizations. It almost doesn't matter that I can't play the thing worth a shit--it's just plain cool. There's even a tie-in e-book from an outfit appropriately named Mulholland Books. This seems to be the new trend--I understand one of my all-time favorite authors (John Shirley) has a Bioshock tie-in novel. Guess I'll have to dust that one off and try again.

New music

I splurged yesterday at the Music Coop in Ashland. They have a new location right on the main drag and I had to check it out. The owners were happy and in a chatty mood. When I walked in Bob Dylan's Together Through Life was playing. I hadn't heard it, but it sounded much like the stuff from Love and Theft and Modern Times, both of which I like, so I bought it. CD #1. Then I rummaged through the Dylan section and found New Morning, one of my favorites ("If Not For You," "Day of the Locusts," "Went To See The Gypsy") and in need of replacing as the LP is almost shot and the tape made from the LP sounds terrible. CD #2. In the new releases bin I saw Low Country Blues from Gregg Allman and decided to take a chance on it. I've always loved his voice and the Allman Brothers Band made some of my all-time favorite music "back in the day." If the old survivor is going to sing the blues I want to hear it. CD #3. Remember Ronnie Montrose and "Rock the Nation"? Well, that album was up in the display area in the M's and got me looking through the 13th letter of the alphabet. I came across Mink DeVille's Le Chat Bleu, remastered and re-released with oodles of bonus tracks (including an interview with Doc Pomus). Willy DeVille unfortunately passed away in 2009, but his music lives on. "Venus of Avenue D" (from Cabretta) was one of those minor FM hits that got airplay in the Bay Area on stations like KSAN when I was in high school. My older brother Brian had a classmate who was tuned into all the hippest and coolest music, he turned us both on to acts like The Tubes, Patti Smith Group, and Mink DeVille. Thank goodness--I was fixated on Journey, Robin Trower, and Fleetwood Mac at the time! CD #4. I'm always on the lookout for good be-bop recordings, and the so-called Rudy Van Gelder Series from Blue Note is usually a solid bet. I got interested in saxophonist Hank Mobley because of his work with Miles Davis, and I previously bought the excellent Soul Station. The latest addition is Roll Call and features the same band (Paul Chambers, Art Blakey, Wynton Kelly) as well as trumpeter Freddie Hubbard. It was recorded on 13 November, 1960, my 1st birthday! CD # 5. My namesake Mark O'Connor is a man of great musical versatility, and any album with my name on it is likely to garner my attention. I love his jazz forays and the one I picked up is called Live in New York and features his Hot Swing Trio. CD #6. The final disc in the shopping spree was playing when I left the store. The owner kidded me about how he wasn't trying to sell the CDs he was playing, he just played what he liked. Yeah, sure. Worked on me. It was a recent Sam Cooke collection called Portrait of a Legend and contains over 30 tracks. No one has a voice like Mr. Cooke. If you looked up "soulful" in the dictionary there should be a picture of Sam next to the entry. Another brilliant artist and performer who died too young. CD #7.

Not a bad haul, eh?

New stuff and new old stuff

Found a copy of Walter Mosley's The Tempest Tales (2008) in Ashland yesterday. Mr. Mosley is best known for his Easy Rawlins stories, and as excellent as those books are, they are only a small part of his output and give little indication of the range and depth of his work. Check out Futureland and The Man in My Basement if you want to have your preconceptions about a "crime writer" challenged. As far as his crime stories go, Mosley is often compared to Graham Greene and Raymond Chandler, but I think of John D. MacDonald as his literary antecedent. Both are superb observers of their time and astute social critics, and manage to craft taut, fast-paced tales peopled by intriguing and sympathetic characters. That is no mean feat. Speaking of The Late, Great John D., I also picked up a Fawcett Gold Medal reprint of his 1954 novel Contrary Pleasure. It looks like a 1970s vintage but is in good shape despite the yellowing pages. I found the first of Ed McBain's 87th Precinct series (Cop Hater) in a somewhat battered late-80s re-issue, and the second of Donald E. Westlake's Sam Holt mysteries (I Know a Trick Worth Two of That), recently re-released in trade paper by Felony & Mayhem. I also grabbed a hardcover omnibus of classic pulp called Tough Guys & Dangerous Dames, which is 600 pages of everyone from Robert E. Howard to Robert Bloch. It features a story by Paul Cain ("Black"), one of the best writers you've never heard of, and no relation to his more famous contemporary James M. Cain.

I also ventured into The Music Coop, where antediluvians like me can find actual albums on CD. I picked up John Prine's Sweet Revenge (1973) and Patty Loveless' Mountain Soul (2001). Like I said: new stuff and new old stuff. That ought to keep me entertained for a while.

RIP Liam Clancy

In my father's world, there was only one music. All else was noise. That music was the Clancy Bros. and Tommy Makem. As a boy, I heard those records to the point of nausea. In fact, I couldn't listen to Irish folk music for decades. Fortunately, I got over that. One of the best things we did on our two recent trips to Ireland was haunt the pubs where they had "trad" sessions. I was amazed by how many of the songs I knew! Liam Clancy, the last of the surviving band members, passed away last week. Mr. Clancy appeared in Martin Scorsese's No Direction Home, a film about Bob Dylan. He's seated on a barstool, a pint of Guinness in front of him, and reminisces about meeting "that little pain-in-ass" back in the heyday of the Greenwich Village folk scene. Then he sings, a cappella, Dylan's "Girl From the North Country." It's my favorite moment in that engrossing film, even better than Joan Baez' impression of the infamously-nasal Mr. Dylan. Thanks, dad, for turning me on to the music. I'm sorry it took me so long to really appreciate it.
Recqueiscat in pacem.

RIP Norton Buffalo

Bay Area rocker Norton Buffalo died from lung cancer on Friday. He was 58. Norton and his band the Knockouts actually performed a free concert--just a few years ago--in Miner Street Park here in Yreka. I have an autographed CD from the event. He was a master of the harmonica, at home in blues, country, rockabilly, boogie-woogie, R&B, you-name-it. He had a long and varied career, despite it being cut short by illness. He was a fixture in the San Francisco and Northern California music scene for over 30 years, mostly with the Steve Miller Band, but also working with the likes of the Doobie Bros., Elvin Bishop, Merl Saunders, Mickey Hart, Roy Rogers, Commander Cody, and the New Riders. He was much too young.
Recquiescat in pacem.

Turn! Turn! Turn!

Pete Seeger was on to something when he tacked his famous line to the poem from Ecclesiastes. "To everything there is a season" is how chapter three of the King James Version starts, and it goes on to talk about birth and death, love and hate, and peace and war. If King Solomon was the author of those lines, then he managed to pen a number one pop hit (via the Byrds)! Not bad, eh? Today the autumnal equinox marks the start of fall in the northern hemisphere. Even the redoubtable Eric Partridge (WordMan™'s hero) admits that the Latin autumnus--the adjectival form being autumnalis--is "of obscure origin." He suggests it might have come from uertere (later vertere), the verb meaning, naturally, "to turn." Here in the State of Jefferson the 40 ºF mornings are evidence enough that we are turning from the warmth of summer to the cool of autumn.

New old music

Dropped by The Music Coop in Ashland and picked up some new CDs. Right now I've got Dwight Yoakam's Dwight Sings Buck from New West on the stereo. Seems natural that Mr. Yoakam should make a tribute album to the late Buck Owens, as he obviously owes much of his musical style to the so-called "Bakersfield Sound." I've been a closet fan of Dwight Yoakam since his debut Guitars, Cadillacs, Etc., Etc. in 1986. My brother Brian is responsible for piercing my prejudice against c & w by playing this album for me way back then. Yoakam's made consistently excellent music since that time (this disc is no exception), and become an international star. There are a lot of great tunes on Dwight Sings Buck, but it was particularly fun to hear "Act Naturally." The story is that Buck and The Beatles were mutual fans, and that's not surprising. Mr. Owens' music is simple, heartfelt, and singable--great for bars, nite clubs and honky-tonks. I imagine many early pop and rock acts cut their teeth on songs like these before they found their own groove. Next up is Ed Palermo's Big Band, an act we saw at the Iridium Jazz Club in Manhattan during our short stay there in June of 2005. (Les Paul, at 94, is a regular performer.) It's all Zappa music, as that is Mr. Palermo's ouevre. The album is "Take Your Clothes Off When You Dance," and that's also the 2nd track--a lovely instrumental version. The live act was brilliant, and the recording captures their passion and virtuosity. Up third is another bit of old stuff. The first two were new releases (2007 and 2006), but playing older music. This one is a re-issue of The Pogues first record, Red Roses for Me, from 1984. This disc has bonus tracks and liner notes and whatnot, and fills in my collection alongside Rum, Sodomy & the Lash, and If I Should Fall From Grace with God, the "holy trinity" of Pogues music. If any group embodies the perfect blend of modernity and tradition, it's The Pogues, the original British punk/new-wave Irish folk band. There's nothing quite like those Shane MacGowan-led rockers, they do their own thing and it's bloody fookin' grand. That's what's in my disc changer this afternoon, and it's all great and I'm loving it. What are you listening to?

Cadillac Records

Cadillac Records is an interesting and entertaining film by writer-director Darnell Martin that chronicles the rise and fall of Chess Records. The story is told in broad strokes, naturally, compressing about twenty years and a dozen personalities into a few hours. It suffers from the sweeping, superficial nature of all biopics, but Ms. Martin deserves credit for a colorful, vibrant, and stylish take on this fascinating slice of musical history. Adrien Brody plays Leonard Chess, the enterprising and ambitious immigrant who founded the company with his brother Phil in the 1940s. Mr. Brody never seems fully comfortable in Chess' skin, and he remains a bit of an enigma throughout the movie. Not so with Jeffrey Wright, who grows scene by scene into his role as the great Muddy Waters. It's not a performance that grabs you, rather, by the end of the movie, you come to believe that Mr. Wright is Mr. Waters. An impressive feat, but helped maybe by the fact that we have so much more of Muddy to work with. After all, Chess was a "behind-the-scenes" kind of guy, and what he was "really like" might be lost to history's dustbin. Cedric the Entertainer certainly looks the part of the massive Willie Dixon, but he's wasted in a silly narrator's role. The voice-over historical perspective is superfluous--that stuff should be saved for documentaries. Mos Def inhabits the role of Chuck Berry, who probably should get his own film, and Eamonn Walker gives us an intriguing Howlin' Wolf. Too many characters, not enough time! The film really picks up steam in the second half, though, with the arrival of contemporary R & B superstar Beyoncé Knowles as Etta James. I knew two things about Ms. Knowles before this film: 1) she's gorgeous, and 2) people like her singing. I figured she was just another pop diva, but I found out she can not only act but that she can really sing. Covering Etta James is like batting behind Barry Bonds, but Beyoncé takes on a James standard, "At Last," and does it beautifully. She's got a real voice, rich and velvety and powerful, and her "At Last" is not only the most moving but also the most impressive performance in the film. She also tries her hand at "I'd Rather Go Blind," a masterpiece that is probably impossible to improve on, and does damn well. It's a bit over-the-top, with a lot of breathy vibrato and over-long notes, but the movie seems to demand some melodrama at that point as we see Leonard Chess walking away from the business he built. If you know nothing of the history of American popular music, Cadillac Records is not a bad place to start. If you like what you see, check out the Chess Records 50th Anniversary Collection Series from MCA (CD), and The American Folk Blues Festival Series (DVD) from Reelin' in the Years.

The Music Store

On our visit to San Francisco we encountered this lovely spot a half block from the West Portal Muni station. They actually called themselves "The Music Store." They sold vinyl, mostly, and I remarked to one of the youngsters behind the counter that I had no idea vinyl records were still in such demand. He smiled and said "it's the best way to listen to music." He was half my age! They also had--wait for it--cassettes. Alas, I did not see 8-tracks. But they were stocked with used CDs and we had a lot fun rummaging through the bins. I didn't find anything by The Pogues, or Sam Cooke, or John Prine, or a bunch of other folks I was searching for. But I did find a terrific Townes Van Zandt double album, Live at the Old Quarter, Houston, Texas. The late Mr. Van Zandt's songs have been covered by the likes of Merle Haggard, Emmylou Harris, and Lucinda Williams. Check him out if you don't know his stuff--he's kind of weird hybrid between Doc Watson and Hank Williams, with a little Bob Dylan thrown in. Over in the rock bin I scored two CDs: 12 x 5 by the Rolling Stones and Beneath This Gruff Exterior by John Hiatt and the Goners. Mr. Hiatt is still pounding out smart, soulful stuff after all these years. The early Stones is mostly covers, with "Around and Around" by Chuck Berry being a particularly good one. "Under the Boardwalk" is lackluster, but, doo-wop is not their style. Can you imagine what Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention could have done with that tune? Back in the C & W bin I found a Best of Dolly Parton collection from 1975 with all her original hits like "Jolene" and "I Will Always Love You." I think I did pretty well, don't you?

I went to an actual concert!

A rare event for me, I might add. I actually spent money, too. Les Claypool of Primus fame was the headliner. I was familiar with him mostly by reputation, so it was exciting to hear and see him perform live. Supposedly he plays the bass guitar, but this show featured a variety of strange-looking versions of the instrument that one would not know, at first glance, were bass guitars. Mr. Claypool also liked to wear weird outfits (including doing one number in a monkey suit) and sing strange songs while playing his instruments. His distinguishing mark seemed to be the use of a bow, like a cellist, but he would also whack the strings with quick, short blows and create some remarkable percussive effects. He was one of those fellows that did everything effortlessly, not appearing to break a sweat or having to concentrate. The music was in the rock genre, but lacked much of the traditional song structures, involving a lot of meandering jams and jumbled melodies. I must admit I liked it. The rhythms were brisk and danceable, the crowd was on its feet most of the show, and the thumping, driving, thundering rock sensibility of the band was much in evidence. The band consisted of a cellist--weird, considering the lead instrument was the electric bass--a drummer, and another percussionist who's main piece was the vibraphone. The vibes have a long history in jazz, and this outfit had the jazz band's free-wheeling attitude and superb musicianship. Claypool is a wizard, conjuring up some fantastic stuff from the bass, really stretching the boundaries of the instrument. I was remimded a bit of Belá Fleck's genre-bending mastery of the banjo. Despite the differences in style, both men have a playful mien on stage and infect the audience with their sense of fun. Claypool showed a bit of his darker side, savaging a drunk in the front row--who was apprently hassling a woman--with some choice epithets. I can't imagine that from the soft-spoken Mr. Fleck. The opening act was Yard Dogs Road Show, a unique combination of music and performance that included dancing girls and sword-swallowing. Imagine the mistreated, bastard offspring of The Tubes and Frank Zappa and you'll get some idea. They were actually quite impressive musicians and singers, featuring the usual rock lineup of guitar, bass, and drums, but rounded out with an accordion, trombone and trumpet. The dancing girls were a true burlesque act, channeling the Old West and vaudeville quite nicely, and showing a lot of lovely flesh as well. All in all, it was a good pairing. The gorgeous setting in Jacksonville and beautiful weather (as well as a great dinner with my bestest pals) made it a first-rate evening's entertainment.

Queen of the Blues

I own a set of DVDs from Reelin' in the Years called The American Folk Blues Festival. They feature footage of a generation of blues greats touring in Europe in the mid-sixties. The recordings are an absolute treasure and a must-have for blues fans. One of the discs features Koko Taylor singing "Wang Dang Doodle." She must have been in her 40s at the time, but she had the joyous swagger of a teen pop idol. Her growling, rocking vocals were part Etta James and part Big Mama Thornton, and seemed to emerge from deep within her as she belted out that party song. She was a distinctive-looking woman, with a huge, toothy mouth and big eyes set wide apart in a broad face. I was transfixed. Thus was my introduction to this giant of blues music, who just passed away at the age of 80. Sadly, Koko and her contemporaries are almost all gone. Fortunately for us the music lives on.

Recquiescat in pacem.

Sunday mornin' comin' down

On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cause there's something in a Sunday,
Makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothin' short of dyin',
Half as lonesome as the sound,
On the sleepin' city sidewalks:
Sunday mornin' comin' down.

--Kris Kristofferson (1969)



Just because it's Sunday.

I Am the Blues

With apologies to Willie Dixon.

(click to enlarge)
Aleck "Rice" Miller
aka Sonny Boy Williamson

Musical treasure

The folks at Reelin' In the Years have done it again. They've added a fourth volume to the American Folk Blues Festival collection. I own the first three DVDs, which are compilations of 1960s German television performances by the likes of Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf, Sonny Boy Williamson, T-Bone Walker, Big Mama Thornton, Big Joe Turner--the pantheon of blues greats that created modern American music. The new collection is taken from the same era (1963-1966) but set in the UK. The highlights are a spectacular "What'd I Say" from Junior Wells, and a rocking Sister Rosetta Tharpe, singing, of all places, in an empty train station. My only complaint is that the disc is too short. These digital records of these remarkable artists are surely a musical treasure. My first reaction is an almost reverential awe at their sophistication and style. Then the catchy beats take over and the toes start tapping and the fun begins. These guys were entertainers, not museum pieces, and you want to clap your hands, dance and shout when they perform. All their moves and even their songs were copied by the rock-n-rollers, and their music laid the foundation for just about all the pop music we hear today. My personal favorite, Sonny Boy Williamson (i.e. Aleck "Rice" Milller), contributes three cuts. He opens the whole thing with "Keep it to Yourself," coming on stage with his briefcase, a schtick Dan Aykroyd borrowed for his Elwood Blues character, and he is later seen in his famous two-tone suit. The man plays his harmonica with his nose at one point! What a privilege to see this great singer, showman, musician and songwriter while he was still vibrant and full of life. He died in 1965.

Happy Birthday, Lightnin' Hopkins!

Derral Campbell on KSOR's Rollin' the Blues reminded his listeners today that March 15th was the birthday of Sam Hopkins, aka Lightnin'. Mr. Campbell's program, on the Rhythm & News Service of Jefferson Public Radio, airs Sundays from 1400 to 1500 hours Pacific Time. We are incredibly lucky to have top-notch public radio here in our lonely little burg. We are "over the mountain" from Ashland, Oregon but the signal crosses the stateline and we get a translator at 89.3 MHz.

Lightnin' Hopkins was one of the giants of the blues. He lived to be almost 70, a feat in itself, and supposedly learned at the feet of Blind Lemon Jefferson. I'm fortunate to own a three-volume DVD collection called The American Folk Blues Festival from Reelin in the Years. Disc one features Lightnin' Hopkins performing "Mojo Hand." It is easily the slickest, coolest, rockinest cut in the collection, and that is saying a lot! He seems to do it all--play beautiful licks, sing with bluesy sass, stomp out a vigorous rhythm, and look good doing it. The guy wasn't just a great guitarist and singer. He was also a mature and confident showman, and he just dazzles you with his savoir faire. I can watch that clip over and over again.

Happy Birthday, Sam. Oh, and Beware the Ides of March!

King of Swing

One of the many fascinating characters in the history of American music is Benny Goodman, dubbed "The King of Swing" by his bandmate Gene Krupa. My friend John B, who turns 87 next week, was the first person to properly introduce me to this music. The re-issued CD of Goodman's famous 1938 Carnegie Hall concert was the vehicle, and coupled with John's enthusiastic reminisces of his youth in the Swing Era, I was hooked. Last night my lovely bride and I watched the 1956 Hollywood biopic The Benny Goodman Story with Steve Allen in the title role. Goodman himself plays all the clarinet parts, but many of his old bandmates (like Krupa) make appearances, Harry James and Lionel Hampton in particular. These movies are generally uninspiring, but this one is helped along by the abundance of great jazz performances. It never hurts to cast the stunningly beautiful Donna Reed as the love interest. Goodman's career was helped, like many others, by the enterprising John H. Hammond (played in the film by Herbert Anderson). Ms. Reed plays Hammonds sister, Alice, who actually marries Benny Goodman in real life. Alice and John were the grandchildren of Cornelius Vanderbilt. (Hammonds' son, John P. Hammond, is well-known and accomplished contemporary blues guitarist and singer.) Only in America can the son of immigrants marry the grand-daughter of one of the wealthiest men in history!

Red is the color of jazz

You don't think so? We got Red Norvo, Red Garland, Red Rodney, and Red Nichols. Ernest Loring Nichols was the first "Red" in this bunch, born in 1905 and a part of the early swing scene along with Benny Goodman, Artie Shaw, Glenn Miller and the rest. ("Red" Norvo was born only three years later than "Red" Nichols. Here's a clip of him and Goodman from 1960.) The first one of these guys I heard was William "Red" Garland, playing the 88s with the Miles Davis Quintet on Cookin'. Then I learned about Robert Roland Chudnick (aka "Red" Rodney) from Clint Eastwood's Charlie Parker biopic Bird. Kenneth Norville (aka "Red" Norvo) was next, his band backed Frank Sinatra in a 1959 tour of Australia. An album of this music was released in 1997 by Blue Note--it is easily the best Sinatra I have ever heard. (If you don't think he's a great jazz singer, buy this record and change your mind.) But this post got started because we just watched the 1959 (there it is again, my birth year) film The Five Pennies with Danny Kaye. It is a loose "biography" of Red Nichols, with Kaye in the title role and Red himself providing the cornet and trumpet work off-screen. Mr. Kaye is one of those extraordinary talents who seems able to do anything. He was side-splittingly funny in the movie, and his antics made me think of Jim Carrey--the facial contortions, the physical grace, the crazy sounds--but with the dancing and singing skills of Gene Kelly. Despite the schmaltz and Hollywood story-telling, the film was great entertainment due to the abundance of musical numbers and the brilliant acting of the star. Special guest Louis Armstrong did several routines with Kaye, and his appeal and astonishing talent never seems to dim. (Trivia note: a teenage Tuesday Weld played Nichols' daughter.)

Cruisin' for a Brewsin'

Cruising With Ruben and The Jets is the latest Mothers of Invention album featured on a bottle of Lagunitas Brewing Company beer. This one is a big, rich, black beer, somewhat like a sweet stout or porter. They call it "BoppaDooAyDoo Style Ale" and rate it at 8.6% abv. Yow-za! That's some kick-ass brew. (There's a note from 26 August 2006 on the Zappa website about the first beer in the series, Freak Out! I blogged about the Lagunitas--Zappa convergence on 23 Feb and 10 Aug of this year after we discovered Lumpy Gravy in the Ashland co-op.) "Cruising" is a potent drink, but not over-the-top undrinkable. I'm not a fan of high-alcohol beers, but I do like flavorful ones, and "Cruising" has plenty of flavor. We had to play the album and listen to the Mothers sing doo-wop. Songs like "Deseri" and "Jelly Roll Gum Drop" and "Anyway The Wind Blows" are as timeless as anything else in the Zappa canon. The label celebrates the 4oth anniversary of the record's release--looking forward to the whole collection!

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