Decatur Street Painting by kenne (2007)
The House That Leans to Jazz
Archive for the ‘Jazz’ Tag
Decatur Street Painting 2 comments
That old house on Decatur—
The shutters keep time with the sax
You can feel the brick loosen,
There’s a trumpet caught in the rafters,
The house leans—not from age,
Memphis Beale Street Leave a comment
Memphis Beale Street — Image by kenne
“Blues and soul and jazz music
has so much pain,
so much beauty of
raw emotion and passion.”
— Christina Aguilera
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Ramsey Lewis, RIP Leave a comment
Ramsey Lewis — Getty Images
Mary Ann and I went to see the great Ramsey Lewis at Chicago’s London House in the early 70s. The Trio was the house band for a number of years. On his passing at 87, The Guardian wrote:
“The piano great tuned in to the hits of his day and played hard bop to a rock backbeat,
crossing into the mainstream and becoming one of the most sampled musicians of all time”
“I can, if necessary, play quite complicated jazz improvisations,” he once said. “But you’ve got to make sure you carry the audience with you. Most people don’t have an MA in music scholarship, they haven’t sat a jazz improvisation 101, they don’t want to hear you playing bebop inspired by Béla Bartók. You’ve got to follow the audience, and play off their energy.”
Amen! A class act when “class” meant a lot more.
— kenne
Here’s a link to a 2009 blog posting on Ramsey Lewis: https://kenneturner.com/2009/11/01/flashback-seeing-ramsey-lewis-at-the-london-house/
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The Month Of May Fifty Years Out 1 comment
Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images
I can’t let this month get by without recognizing the 50th anniversary (May 21, 1971) of the release of Marvin Gaye’s
masterpiece album, What’s Going On.
“OK, let’s just get this out of the way. Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On LP is a masterpiece. If it’s not in your top five
or at least within the realm of your top 10 albums of all-time, then I seriously think you need to reevaluate your list.
Not many albums give you a snapshot of the world at the time of its release and still remain very relevant decades later.
What’s Going On most certainly does.” — Terry Nelson (albumism.com)
Gaye released the single, What’s Going On, after co-writer Renaldo “Obie” Benson saw police in Berkeley, Calif.,
brutality beat anti-Vietnam War protesters. Gaye would later say, “What mattered was the message. For the first time,
I felt like I had something to say.”
The album went platinum, and Rolling Stone would place it among the greatest albums of all time.
Now fifty years out, its influences are evident today as the nation wrestles with inequality and a racial reckoning.
— kenne
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The Poet Is Sighing 1 comment
A Jackson Square Morning — Photo-Artistry by kenne
The fog begins to lift
cobblestones still wet
from a passing shower —
the poet is sighing.
Cathedral bells ring
pigeons flying off
leaving their home —
the poet is sighing.
I can lose myself
in the French Quarter
in its endless embrace —
the poet is sighing.
Deep shadows in
alleys behind iron gates
guarding tropical courtyards —
the poet is sighing.
A lone musician
plays a jazz tune
not seen, but heard —
the poet is sighing.
Artists make their way
down to the square where
they hang their painting —
the poet is signing.
Morning life in the square
repeats again and again
the movement of generations —
the poet is signing.
A child of the mist
catches my attention
in my camera’s eye —
the poet is signing.
We bookmark each moment
looking at you again,
Renaissance and me —
the poet is signing.
— kenne
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A Teacher’s Teacher: Ellis Marsalis, RIP 3 comments
A Teacher’s Teacher: Ellis Marsalis (November 14, 1934, April 1, 2020) Image Source: Chicago Tribune
All of us reach an age when it seems like every day someone of our generation dies, even more now with the COVID-19 pandemic. Sadly, on April 1, a giant in education and jazz became one of the numbers in the current pandemic.
In the 1980s, Ellis Marsalis, with his sons, became the fresh new face to a resurgence of jazz in the last decades of the 20th century. “My dad was a giant of a musician and teacher, but an even greater father,” Branford Marsalis said in a statement. “He poured everything he had into making us the best of what we could be.”
Ellis Marsalis had a light and graceful touch at the piano, allowing his enter fellings to pour out like a gentle flowing mountain stream. He had held a weekly gig for decades at Snug Harbor, one of New Orleans’s premier jazz clubs, before giving it up in December.
The New Times critic, wrote: “Sticking mainly to the middle register of the keyboard, the pianist offered richly harmonized arrangements in which fancy keyboard work was kept to a minimum and studious melodic invention, rather than pronounced bass patterns, determined the structures and tempos.”
One of my favorite Cole Porter songs done superbly by Ellis and his son Branford.
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McCoy Tyner, Dead At 81 Leave a comment
Live Jazz In The Old Pueblo Leave a comment
Live Jazz In The Old Pueblo — Photo-Artistry by kenne
The Weary Blues
— Langston Hughes
Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,
Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,
I heard a Negro play.
Down on Lenox Avenue the other night
By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light
He did a lazy sway . . .
He did a lazy sway . . .
To the tune o’ those Weary Blues.
With his ebony hands on each ivory key
He made that poor piano moan with melody.
O Blues!
Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool
He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool.
Sweet Blues!
Coming from a black man’s soul.
O Blues!
In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone
I heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan—
“Ain’t got nobody in all this world,
Ain’t got nobody but ma self.
I’s gwine to quit ma frownin’
And put ma troubles on the shelf.”
Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor.
He played a few chords then he sang some more—
“I got the Weary Blues
And I can’t be satisfied.
Got the Weary Blues
And can’t be satisfied—
I ain’t happy no mo’
And I wish that I had died.”
And far into the night he crooned that tune.
The stars went out and so did the moon.
The singer stopped playing and went to bed
While the Weary Blues echoed through his head.
He slept like a rock or a man that’s dead.
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Come Blow Your Horn 4 comments
“Come Blow Your Horn” — Image by kenne
Jazz in the Old Pueblo
where music fills the air
on summer evenings,
where the dry air is cool
after a hot day in the desert.
*****
“All right, everybody, shut up!
And listen!
— Dave Van Ronk
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Cruisin’ Down the Road 1 comment
Image by kenne
Cruisin’ down the road
Your arm over my shoulder
Miles of lovin’ smiles.
— kenne
Cruisin’ Down the Road Video
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This Side of Paradise Leave a comment
A Yellow Bird of Paradise Blossom — Image by kenne
Sunday morning
after a late night,
a time to relax
and listen to the dark
rhythmic sounds of
Avishai Cohen —
“There is a crack in everything.
That’s how the light gets in.”
Enjoy the grove as you
drift into solitude.
— kenne
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The People Know, It’s Winter In America and I’m Looking for Some Rain Leave a comment
Gill Scott-Heron — Grunge Art by kenne
Gil Scott-Heron was a soul and jazz poet, musician, and author known as one of the most important progenitors of rap music, aggressive, no-nonsense street poetry that inspired a legion of intelligent rappers. He has been called ‘the black Bob Dylan.’
WINTER IN AMERICA
From the Indians who welcomed the pilgrims
And to the buffalo who once ruled the plains
Like the vultures circling beneath the dark clouds
Looking for the rain
Looking for the rain
Just like the cities staggered on the coastline
Living in a nation that just can’t stand much more
Like the forest buried beneath the highway
Never had a chance to grow
Never had a chance to grow
And now it’s winter
Winter in America
Yes and all of the healers have been killed
Or sent away, yeah
But the people know, the people know
It’s winter
Winter in America
And ain’t nobody fighting
‘Cause nobody knows what to save
Save your soul, Lord knows
From Winter in America
The Constitution
A noble piece of paper
With free society
Struggled but it died in vain
And now Democracy is ragtime on the corner
Hoping for some rain
Looks like it’s hoping
Hoping for some rain
And I see the robins
Perched in barren treetops
Watching last-ditch racists marching across the floor
But just like the peace sign that vanished in our dreams
Never had a chance to grow
Never had a chance to grow
And now it’s winter
It’s winter in America
And all of the healers have been killed
Or been betrayed
Yeah, but the people know, people know
It’s winter, Lord knows
It’s winter in America
And ain’t nobody fighting
‘Cause nobody knows what to save
Save your souls
From Winter in America
And now it’s winter
Winter in America
And all of the healers done been killed or sent away
Yeah, and the people know, people know
It’s winter
Winter in America
And ain’t nobody fighting
‘Cause nobody knows what to save
And ain’t nobody fighting
Cause nobody knows, nobody knows
And ain’t nobody fighting
‘Cause nobody knows what to save
— Gill Scott-Heron
If you are interested in some great music, damn good poetry and a little history of this nation, check out the video — it’s all about holding on to your dreams.
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Morning Is Bright — B&W Leave a comment
Morning is Bright — B&W Image by kenne
morning
in black and white
listening
to soft jazz
new light and passion
born
in the moment
of eternal morning
releasing negative energies
of past efforts
with the morning sun
my cares pass as
for a moment I am
childlike
in a world
false positives.
— kenne
Black and White by Man In A Room
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Ken Nordine — “What Time Is It?” Leave a comment
Ken Nordine Album Cover: “How Are Things In Your Town?” 1972
Growing up in the Chicago area as a teen and young adult, I often I would listen late night jazz on the radio. One of the shows was that of Ken Nordine reading his poetry while playing jazz. He has one of the best radio voices anywhere. You may have heard his voice and didn’t know who it was, since over the years he has done a lot of voice-over TV commercials. Since his radio show in the sixties, he has done several Word Jazz albums. One of his albums that I have is “How Are Things In Your Town,” which includes, “What Time Is It?”
kenne
Jazz At The Old Pueblo 3 comments
Jazz at the Old Pueblo — Image by kenne
“Do you hear a sound?
That sound isn’t promising anything
or proving anything
or explaining
or excusing anything
or meaning anything
or, pardon me for speaking rankly—
selling or buying anything.
Truth doesn’t sell or buy: truth sings.
I hear singing.”
— E. E. Cummings
