Dancin' and prancin' good 'ole Athens

Once upon a time there was a good 'ole town called Athens, Georgia. So many blips of time ago (when I was there in the early and mid 1960s) there was a ferocious yet innocent sleek ambiance about the nice so kickingly good town. Going to the big ga. dawgs games were really something else. I had a class with a sensational defensive player named George Patton. The man named Patton had true style. He was one of the first guys coached by a defensive footballin' genius named Erk Russell. This joyous town knew what fun was all about. The games with their bright-colored outfitted men and women in the old stands...well they were a real lark. But Lord after the gridiron battles the sounds of the wild would surely come forth. The boogeyin' down at places like the grand Allen's on the historic street known as Prince was something fierce and right on to see. Nothing like those doggone bright green madras coats, the girls in the a-line fashions and of course the tons of weejun shoes. The main kind of music then was a brilliant whoop it up tonic of tough, strutting blues. Nothing like good Georgia memories. For a long time, they'll stick right there with you.

Powerhouse piano, glory gospel, shiny jazz

Big pulsating chords coming from a good piano soul...well they're so powerful so stirring, getting your heart smiling like you were a little kid again. It is interesting if you really get yourself into it, how the sleek overwhelming drive of so much good piano jazz is so incredibly gospel-based. Last night I was digging the punctuating lusty sounds of one fine keyboard man, the wise one named Junior Mance. He was backed by the marvelous Ron Carter on the bass and Mickey Roker on drums. The sound was so provocative, so kickin' and truly right. The sound of strong gospel pops up in the straight ahead classic work of moderns also like the powerhouse himself, the famed Art Blakey on drums. His gospel is that of a man who knows how to fire the musical strongman cars up really smokin' and sensually vivid. When a soul hears Blakey on the drums along with the soaring master, Mr. Freddie Hubbard on the trumpet and the total sax man Mr. Wayne Shorter on his bossman tenor then buddy all is so right on with this great big wild man music world of ours. Atlanta has so many good sounds and one fine thing is the fact men and women of the south know how to really get it together in their enjoyment of true strong music with its overtones of blues and big gospel and the mesmerizing sphere that is the song of the wild, yes man I'm speaking of jazz.

That 'ole Georgia raw Atlanta sound

A long time ago I went to the University of Georgia in Athens. I went so wild over the music there because there was some great stuff. Some guys were already talking about the Atlanta sound, a kind of raw hot, sizzling brand of music that would get in you and turn you into a firebrand of a dancer even if you figured you were not. Lord, the first time I heard a live show by the late great James Brown, well my, my it was so raw so right. It made the merry town of Athens get up and dance like the good wild folks of north Georgia know how to do. I loved the big tough guy sound but most of all it hit me one day that this place Georgia was so packed full of tone and superior music history. Well anyway it made me swell up with total pride. The thunderous raging violent beat, the cascading downright stompin' blue chords. well the magnitude of that good, 'ole awesome sound could make a grown man bawl. So many of us when we went across the pond still remembered the smokin' strutting soul of the great music guys of this good dawgstate, this place we call Georgia. I got into the word business because I wanted to try to capture some of these strong musical magic times and put some words together and try hard to tell how much this powerful music really means. Memories of wild music stick deep inside the soul for a lifetime.

The bliss of exciting piano jazz art

The keyboard sound is so exciting and filled with tremendous energy. A few nights ago I listened to some old King Cole Trio (some people don't realize Nat King Cole was also a fantastic piano man) and also some totally fascinating keyboard jazz from the great man from Canada, Oscar Peterson. This kind of brashness and sleek almost ultra-percussive stylin' is just a wild and wooley cool breeze if there ever was one. Kind of reminds me of the happy dipsy times long ago when I was in my teen years playing with a group. Two guitar buddies played some sizzling licks with the hardnosed impishness that basically strong vivid south Georgian fellas know how to do. Then when I heard Mr. Cole and Mr. Peterson the other night it just brought so many tons of wonderful memories. A friend once said I said the words oh my goodness and wonderful too many times but really sometimes those regular words tell the truly real story better than all the usual claptrap or mundane psycho babble. The boundless energy of good music helps so many of us. One friend of mine digs country sounds like those of Mr. Haggard and Mr. Cash. I try to stretch my brain capacity as much as possible because it feels so slick, yes indeed. So good. I read the brilliant prose of great wordsmiths like Elmore Leonard and V. Nabokov because they always have a tendency to remind me of the importance of tone. Yeah, it's not what you say cause sometimes it all comes back to the sound the human has. In other words what kind of vigorous jazz chorus are you creating. The weather is cool tonight and I am full of bliss knowing things are so good.

Excuse the 'frm' my friends

Noticed on the last blog I had 'frm' not 'from' in the headline. Even crusty old editors like me make errors. Oh well, the main point was when I reconnected with the man from Missouri it refreshed me so much. Some individuals have so much style, so much meaning. He is indeed one of those great ones.

A marvelous voice frm the past

Last Tuesday night a thrill took place. I reconnected with my best friend of years ago, a great man from Missouri. It meant so much because we have so many memories. We were in Japan a long time back as young guys in the military. Culture is the sum total of all the things one has experienced. This guy is special. During the Vietnam era the thing that kept us going was our music and great times. It is meaningful to reconnect with the past. Like listening to resonant guitar work, friendship is so very right.

The shaking up that is our pop 'Culture'

Culture is a word that shakes up people. I have been trying to figure out the word for a terribly long time. But lately the point is some stuff is happening that makes this tricky sticky mass come together so much better. A shining new example of culture shock syndrome is the new film by one fine southern guy named Tarantino. His latest made beaucoup green over the 'ole weekend. It tickled me because since I am more of a Vietnam era guy. It at first didn't seem like a fine idea. But then it hit that this thing was a great idea. Culture brings many thoughts to mind. Why did it take so many rejections by all the great glam popular crowd to mess up so many aching creative souls? Maybe we all need more Gravity's Rainbow and Dubliners types to set us right. Come on Mad Men fix us up.I am glad that I have known huge hilarity hordes of decadent nihilists in my time for now that I have reached old E. Wharton's old 'age of reason" then I can jump up and go dancing madly into the JUMPING jiving Hunter Thompson night. I am so wildly happy I am still going since once upon a time I had a serious surgery back in '93 and yet I am still blissfully here. Don't be afraid to think. Believe me, there ain't nothing like it. Not even one little thing.

Once again, a happy birthday, Jazz Lives

Today is my birthday. It has been great. This old jazz nut is very happy. Like a good Conan bit I am really tickled. Thanks so much to all for the kindnesses. Birthdays are good. Today I listened to an artist dear to my old heart, the great tenor saxophonist, Harold Land. There is nothing like an energetic tenor guy from the historic West Coast to get a motor running good. Take care all. Hope the rain storms are sort of what they call medium. Plan to listen to some old Dean Martin music later. Ancient modal thinker, that's me.

Meaningful non-dull film artistry

Heavy meaningful film can have a huge effect on one. Watched a fine film, 'Pay It Forward' last night. Poignant performances of compelling introspection by Helen Hunt and Kevin Spacey. This kind of electronic experience is so wistful and hits so many kinds of ballad-blues chords sitting deep inside one's self. Speaking of the subject of ballads listened to super rendition of 'Just Friends' by the eloquent tenor saxophonist Stan Getz a few hours ago. What a glorious sound, that tenor. Why is it so often hard to communicate? More of us need to just locate some truly deep sense of relaxation within our inner selves. If nothing else go do errands. Listen to the good purr of a grand vehicle. Remember life is a fantastic so relevant super gift.

Vegetables and the magicians with 'chops'

Thinking today about the great horn men. When I was much younger one day I got into the mysterious and compelling trumpet work of Miles Davis. I liked the esoteric wildisms Dizzy created on trumpet but somehow the highly fluid, so beautifully linear lines of Miles proved so vivid, yes so incredibly strong. Equally impressive on the offerings of Miles was the crackling, fiery work of the mind-boggling Paul Chambers on bass and the lilting harmonic introspective backing of the sly Red Garland on piano. I enjoy the dissonant chords of keyboard fellas like Cedar Walton and Abdullah Ibrahim. But somehow the expansive, so full of passion ivory work of Mr. Garland and of course the magical keyboard strong man, McCoy Tyner, make the zinging, strength of lots of teeth jazz so ruggedly right. The brand of jazz that has the high energy mindfulness of the East Coast sound knowingly kicks right in with the historic horn guys like Miles. And of course the innovative sleek saxophone of the man known as Coltrane helps to create even more delicious sound vegetables in the wily garden that is American jazz.

Blues style kings fix the motor up right

Played a little blues shuffle guitar this afternoon. It got my motor revved up. Felt so right, so I got into some potent Muddy Waters and Elmore James (man what blues artists, those two) and with that sensational music all was right with this old world. Went for a nice trip to see friends in south Atlanta environs yesterday. That was a nice change of pace. Why do I sound like such a pitcher, some iconoclast out of Malamud's 'Natural.' Nothing like the old hot jive blues rough-hewn music to put one back into the marvelous, cloudy mirrors memories of good places from a long time ago. It is hard to believe but another birthday is friday. In a mondo bizarro way well that feels so cool. So kickingly right on. The ascending harmonica sounds of Sonny Boy Williamson II helped me out today, also. Now if I can get me some good old spam for dinner. well man I'll be just clickin' moving on down the line.

Of elephants and jumpin' West Coast jazz

Lots of Japanese cooking smells today. There is something quite different about those particular aromas. Decided to kick things in gear with the wild sounds of esoteric, rather airy West Coast jazz. Listening to Hampton Hawes on piano and two mighty fine horn men, Wardell Gray on tenor saxophone and the really so cool, Art Pepper on alto. The rendition of Gray's interpretation of 'Pennies from Heaven" is a virtual knockout of buoyant jazz craft. The psychic many brand levels of jazz assist the brain in forging new modes of thought breakthroughs. It is so brutally hot today. Humidity is way up. Feels like south Florida. Bought gas today and many pumps had no petrol. Like many brains pumps at stations need a real pick me up. too. I kept staring at a favorite print of mind today. A nice one of a huge classic elephant just crashing passionately through the moist, so madly thick underbrushes. Kind of like the cunning brilliant brush work of old S. Manne on drums. Hope Saturday is so oh lord yeah, great for all.

Coming up an art, the clever surprise

When I was a boy in a south Georgia town called Cairo, my father was in the picture framing business. Prints and all sorts of stuff were around all the time. One time my folks got me their skinny son, a Picasso print. I went berserk. Soon I was in the wily clever world of the abstract expressionists like Pollock. Gottlieb and Rothko. It made me realize there are few things that can really hit with massive clout like a truly poignant mind-trip of a piece of art.

The wild world of that tricky catfish

Release the chuggin' along workings of the brain. I was listening to old Joe Williams big band blues (there is nothing quite like the old Basie band the great Georgian worked with)and it came to me the fact of a discussion I had with a close friend about the subject of creativity. In journalism it has been a credo for some time that we do not want to get into the inner self. What is really going on inside the person is not allowed. Why is it any wonder so many younger people are turned off by the stale presentation of maudlin so-called fine modern prose. If only we could jump into the river of a wild quest for the holy grail of the magical world of 'real.' A lot of fresh air needs to come into us. If we listen to the amazing blues harmonica of Junior Wells then we can get on our rocketship and zoom into a merry land of choice, well-defined new beginnings. For many years the old mentors tried hard to water down the thought processes of what some used to call the young turks. But finally after many years it became obvious how absurd, indeed how ludicrous this bending of the mind was. Look into the idea of trying not to think in the same tired ways. Get off one's posterior and don't let the sly nihilists drag you down. If nothing else tap into new stuff. Go eat more pork, more broiled fish or even the delightful highly southern water nemesis, the catfish. Yes, there is nothing like the old somewhat whiskery genius scribe of the south's waters...the tough catfish. Why does the writing of people like Erskine Caldwell hit hard? Well probably because there is the provocative tone of what we ancients call the 'real people.'

Okra, tomatoes, energy Redding music

The roads around here can propel a man into new circles of interest. Yesterday, I made a trip to a good market on Buford Highway and bought a lot of soba. Going on Buford H. reminds one that this land of Georgia has come a long way from the hominy grits stuff and the cornbread. Yet, that sweet soul-driven memory is still here kickin' along, too. Early today traveled into Gwinnett County on some errands. Coming back on the hilarity-prone ride that is old Highway 78, stopped for a little lunch and woofed down some mighty fine okra and tomatoes and salisbury steak. On the way back thought back to good times in historic midtown with its vignette style places that kind of ring like an Atlantan version of the French Quarter in New Orleans. What is this Georgia anyway? Some people who come here only see the brashness of the urban whoopee life. More individuals need to peer deep into the intensity that is the raw emotionalism of so many Georgians. Get in there where the great writer, Flannery O'Connor was. History is not something to be afraid of. A great prof named Kenneth Coleman offered up a long time ago that the true history is the sum total of all kinds of rather unique experiences. When Georgia football took off it was heavily influenced by a strong clever defensive genius of a man named Erk Russell I was there and I saw the earth by George, move. And it was wham, greatness. Eating fantastic vegetables, feasting on the marvelous literary art gifts of Flannery and of course getting soundly to true strength in the powerful music of one Mr.Redding...that's what it all means. May okra and tomatoes keep 'barefootin' on.

Great blue hydrangea and 'boppin' bass

This time of year is so beautiful especially with the attractive pinks and blues of all the hydrangea. Also it is a sleek and choice time to get back to the basic core of solid jazz music. Of course that particular domain is that of the acoustic bass artists. Men like the vivid bassist, Christian McBride, a soul who set everything so super right. The person that hits so intensely resounding in the bass world is of course the wonderful master, Ray Brown. I heard the one and only Oscar Peterson on keyboard and R. Brown on the bass a long time ago. It changed the vessels of my inner self. I am not just another overdone, verbose scatologist, no sir because good bass men have helped me find what is really artistically poignant in one's humpty dumpty life. It sometimes is needed this getting back to the core...look at the late summer hydrangea blooms and feel the meaning of the earth. 'Ole Thoreau knew what things were good. Hydrangea time rocks. The art of Rothko is so meaningful.

Seeing the engaging eyes of the real soul

Great film invigorates people. Most all of us need some vehicle of true relaxation. For some it is the tough regimen of exercise. But for many people it can be realized through exciting mediums of introspective film art. This may sound so pretentious but truly when one experiences a shrewd, exquisite work like S. Kubrick's 'Eyes Wide Shut' or the brittle and satirically loaded mind fireworks of Gen. K. and his 'Dr. Strangelove' well then it rapidly comes to mind that this is what life is about. For those of us who had not many oh my goodness times, it smacks of absolute joy the first time one sees an illuminating performance like that of N, Kidman in 'Eyes.' Also, the special times like observing DeNiro in 'GoodFellas' are so wild yes so huge as the savvy ones now say. Going into the soul of the brain's layers is an entrance into a bright shining lighthouse of numerous dimensions into the concept area of terrific mindset variables. It used to be disconcerting to hear some folks make fun of we guys who said bizarre words like concepts. But now as the age of senior officer is reached the blunt hilarity of some and their brand of pithy 'baiting' is just too obvious. For these really the things they do not grasp must be made fun of. But remember 'real' is what it is all about. When one listens to the music of the great horn men like Benny Golson and Art Farmer then it enables a mind to go bounding into the exhilarating stratosphere of something that is not just a short, strange ride on an amusement park roller coaster. It is so much more. Show true trust and get deeply into the fabric of the emotions and then the mind has transformation into a strong vibraphone tide like that of bopping with Milt Jackson, el vibo, for the first time. Films like Glenn Ford's 'Gilda' help to propel us whooping into a shining new sphere. And anything by Coppola mesmerizes.

A raw and so hot Saturday in S. Georgia

Remembering being about 10 and playing near my dad's store. Then I saw the old man, a lean fellow with an old, beat-up guitar. My young ears heard the grand sounds of heaven. It was beyond James Fenimore Cooper and all of that slow stuff. Later I would get ferociously into Chekov, Japan, weightlifting and other times of surreal joy. But blues music ignites the soul and the blunt ethos of what is true can really stir up a guy's soul. Some power chords now, Mr. Wes Montgomery.

Harris, Hancock, Shorter and School's On

Overslept a bit but heard school kids joyful sounds outside. Got the 'ole brain going with lots of keyboard and saxophone iconoclastic sounds. It's a total trip, the keyboard magic of Gene Harris and the Three Sounds. And I'm fine I hope you are. The ivories of Herbie Hancock elicit a marvelous strong feeling in one's brain. It is total fulfillment. Sort of a new move on past the rather slow nihilism of J.P Sartre. I have been thinking about the diverse fabric of our lives. Why is it in Georgia that for many years the rural segments of the state have to feel animosity toward the urban men and women and of course those city people have to look down on the country folks. How inane. Why can't some people enjoy Caldwell, Fitzgerald, Spinoza or even Elgar or Stan Getz no matter where they are. I look in the eyes of my granddaughters and I feel so full of life's inner meanings. It is so delightfully refreshing to proceed on down the line from the dessicated mind trip of wretched quasi-intellectualism. I try to know in my soul the joy of not getting caught up on the harsh, virulent odors of life's hurtful rejections. There is a bright hope out there. A journey of imaginative complete joy. Lewis Carroll and his Alice in Wonderland lives/of couse so also does the multicultural art mosaic of the far east and the middle east. I will ingest much of the sleek idea canvas of Paul Krugman today and of course, the great drummer for Miles, one Philly Joe. Boogie on down and do like the great B. Reynolds in Smokey, Bandit et. al. down at histoic Lakewood. Try to know life is a brilliant star, something bringing an ancient Georgian some real happiness. The philosophy of earth and green hope is so vivid, so filled with meaning it is like reading the grand, terse prose of one Paul Hemphill.

Film means so much to one's creativity

For most of my years the exciting conceptual area of film has been so engrossing. The first time saw a Hitch movie it was so strong, like eating a great rib eye. Never will forget Sellers, the fine merry man of the U.K.The first time I heard Basie and his fine guitar man, Freddie G. it was such a terrific trip. One daily needs to get into the tasty emotionalism and passion of life. It is the only way to fly. Don't get into the babble of heavy macho just go with the flow as Robert Mitchum might say. carry on richard the third.

A grand and soulful beginning

This is the start of something insular, a new esthetic, an amalgam of art, jazz (of all dimensions) film and culture. The tone, indeed the sound of metro Atlanta has energized me for a long time. Even from back in the time when I first heard the brash, visceral exciting emotionalism of the great soulster James Brown. I remember the electrifying amazing tenor saxophone of the lean and panoramic genius of the northeast, the one and only John Coltrane. I recall also the first time I saw the marvelous pecadilloes of the certainly not arcane art wild source Mr. Kandinsky and the fantastic innovations of Mr. Jackson Pollock who brought us souls from southwest georgia into a new world as old a. huxley might say. I am trying oh great ones to get in touch with my soul and it is indeed a delicious feeling. The kicking, tripping marvelous blues of Buddy Guy and the fascinating string bass work of Blue Note grand man, one Paul Chambers, keeps me going on and on in a wide spectrum of art expeiences and man it is so good. Cap'n Frank.

getting started

my boy just helped me set this blog up this afternoon