If the theme of negotiating the color line is interesting, a reader might check out Nella Larsen's Passing
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| The magical 'Dial 'H' for Hero," er, dial. |
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| Saturday morning Watchmen, anyone? |
There's a fine piece by Blake Bailey in the New York Times Book Review on the new release, Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg: The Letters
The one album I queued up most often was organist Jared Gold's Supersonic (Positone 2010). Gold -- the musician, NOT the goth fashion designer -- has played with Dan Pratt, Randy Napoleon, and Avi Rothbard, but many people will likely know Gold's work from guitarist Mark Stryker's excellent 2007 release, The Chaser. On Supersonic, Gold roots himself in the classic organ trio combo, with Ed Cherry on guitar and McClenty Hunter on drums. Every track on the album has its rewards: uptempo numbers are clever and funky, ballads are cool and soulful, and interplay between band members is balanced. I'm sure I'm not alone in my deep appreciation of the opening track, a brisk reworking of John Sebastian's theme from Welcome Back, Kotter. With an opening like that, Supersonic grabs you from the start and doesn't let go. A thoroughly groovy time.
Gold provides support in the second release from the Dan Pratt Organ Quartet, Toe The Line (Positone 2010) , a thoroughly confident second release from the saxophonist's group, which is rounded out by trombonist Alan Ferber and drummer Mark Ferber. Powerful and precise, both Pratt and Alan Ferber carry every tune forward with a clear sense of working together, then playing off each other when the moment calls for it. Gold and Mark Ferber fill the remaining sonic space masterfully -- no easy task given the challenging nature of Pratt's compositions. The excellent playing aside, what is most remarkable about Toe The Line is the writing. Aside from the Ellington tune, "The Star Crossed Lovers," every song is a Pratt composition. From the angular bebop opening of "Minor Procedure," to the Monk-ish "Doppelganger," to the whimsical "Uncle Underpants," and to the souful, gorgeous "After," Pratt has put together a range of songs that leaves little doubt as to the prowess of his songwriting skills. Toe The Line gets better each time you listen -- on the strength of the songs.
Finally, we find a release from saxophonist George Brooks and his group Summit, a blending of jazz and classical Indian forms entitled Spirit and Spice
Pops: A Life of Louis Armstrong by Terry Teachout had been sitting near the top of my reading pile for much of the spring, and I finally had a stretch of time to catch up on my reading this summer -- a little sleepy time, perhaps, to luxuriate in the printed word. Teachout is a critic up to the task of constructing a narrative of the life of one of the most influential artists of the 20th century, a genius whose story, oddly and understandably, has been told none-too-well over the years. Like Mark Twain, the other great cultural figure to whom I would compare Louis Armstrong, the body of work is hugely important, frustratingly inconsistent, and the product of a person often misunderstood.
Bret Primrack is a writer and video journalist who works mostly in the world of jazz, and he regularly posts excellent interviews, profiles, and archival footage from around the world of jazz on his YouTube channel, JazzVideoGuy. Featured of late have been interviews with Sonny Rollins, features on the latest work from Lee Ritenour and John Scofield, and the usually erudite and articulate Billy Taylor. With scores of videos and over 12 million views so far, Primrack's channel is one of the absolute best places for old and new highly watchable material about the music.
I include a photo of the 1912 Red Sox, who trained that year in Hot Springs, Arkansas. The many pleasures of Arkansas aside, it does not appear to have been a particularly hot spring in Hot Springs.
Cool Mom Picks had high praise for a book satirizing the competitive parent in many of us, the wryly named "Perfect Baby Handbook." From thingamababy, musing on a memoir, "Where did you go? Out. What did you do? Nothing," that suggests, first, that kids these days really wouldn't know what to do with themselves without all the high-falutin' gadgets and, second, that you should all go and buy your child a knife.
All the more irritating is how all these trolls purport to be part of some grassroots movement, when it appears they're often coordinated attempts by partisan think thanks to create the appearance of a "just plain folks" appeal. I'm sure organizations on both sides of the political fence do this type of "astroturfing," but can we please do away with the outright reactionary and, frankly, racist stupidities?

Rob Vanstone does much better with his unsung artists column that appeared two weeks earlier. You see, his is a biweekly jazz column that appears in the Regina, Saskatchewan newspaper. Ron writes this when he's not covering sports in the provincial capital and Canada's 24th most populous city. Anyway, first and foremost among Rob Vanstone's unsung artists is Oscar Peterson (A Canadian! I call Canuckery!), a choice that I would agree with completely. Oscar Peterson is truly great.
I'm disappointed that Rob Vanstone's editors at the Leader-Post didn't discourage such an obvious troll as his "overrated" column. I'm not sure that it really engages debate when you lump Kenny G into the same category as Miles Davis. Is this how you troll in Regina, Saskatchewan, Rob Vanstone?
I know I'm not supposed to feed the trolls, Rob Vanstone, but you had me from the phrase "designed to engage and enrage." I'm in.
I mean, I might not be one of the seven people who read your magnum opus on the 1966 Roughriders, but I feel pretty confident in writing that even you, a prominent journalist in a city that plays second fiddle to Saskatoon -- even you could do better than your conservative grumblings about free jazz, commercial jazz, and fusion. But I suppose coming up with lists like this is something to pass the time when you're stuck indoors at the Ramada Inn bar, trying to remember what sunlight feels like on your skin, yearning for the hijinks of Gainer the Gopher and grousing with the local musicians about Ornette Coleman.