We used to go to different people's houses, you know. In those days I mean they could hear music and - if somebody could play an instrument, man, they would get up at night, from one o'clock; and they'd fix food and they'd have drinks and they'd stay up till five, six o'clock in the morning and give you money. It wasn't a dance but a serenade; we'd go from house to house. In those days there wasn't too much things like juke boxes, high fidelity sound, wasn't nothing like that then; and whenever somebody could play and could play well, he was considered as somebody; he could go anywhere and he had it made, you know? - Baby Doo Caston, on playing music in Natchez in the 1920s, interview with Jeff Todd Titon
1987 Vancouver Jazz Festival, Commodore Ballroom, Sunday night end-of-festival headline performance, the only chance I got to see Ornette Coleman live.
The band consisted of two drummers, two bassists (one electric, one back-and-forth electric and acoustic), Ornette on his white plastic sax, and a tabla player from India.
There's a Buddhist meditation practice called shamatha, or concentration. When I get into conversations about the idea of concentration, I sometimes think about those two bass players. They had to focus on Ornette's chordal changes, which could come at any moment and go in any direction. Those guys were sweatin' buckets with the effort. If they missed any, I sure didn't notice.
There's a quote on the quote generator from Muddy Waters, something like "Don't hear the changes, *feel* the changes." A challenge when playing with Mr. Coleman.
What a night, a transformative experience listening to someone completely in control of his unique art.
Years ago I saw a short clip of Dock Boggs on youtube, and when I went looking for it again I came across this longer video with some footage I'd never seen. Wish the narrator wasn't talking over his playing though:
I had the pleasure of visiting the Harare International Festival of the Arts earlier this year, and I was amazed at the fingerpicking prowess of Derek Gripper, from South Africa.
His specialty is performing songs normally played on a 21-string kora on a six-string guitar. As is the case in many of his renditions, he has three things going on most most of the time, bass line, rhythm line, and variations on melody.
Here's an example, a "standard" in West African kora playing called "Jiarabi."
Hi all, Here is Eddie South on violin backed by Django Reinhardt on guitar and Wilson Myers on bass. It's amazing to me that someone could play like this--pull-offs to pizzicato notes, my goodness! I would love to have seen Eddie South play.
That takes me right back to Hy Lit, and WIBG radio 99, Johnm. I think growin' up in the Philly area we had an extra dose of this music. Not saying it wasn't popular elsewhere, but in Philly, it just seemed to dominate the AM radio in the decade before the British Invasion, and held it's own for sometime afterward.
Thanks for the memory jolt.
Wax
Logged
"People who say it cannot be done should not interrupt those who are doing it." George Bernard Shaw
“Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't after you.” Joseph Heller, Catch-22
This one got everyone dancing at the Top Rank Ballrooms in the UK when I was a moddy boy in the sixties. In Reading we routinely had to dodge the skinheads and run for the scooters afterwards because the skins loved da reggae almost as much as they hated mods. Mostly peace on the dancefloor, total chaos outside. Souping-up Vespas and Lambrettas was a survival reflex.
« Last Edit: February 16, 2016, 05:35:48 PM by Rivers »