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.