Archive for the ‘Jazz’ Tag

The Poet Is Sighing   1 comment

Jackson Square N.O. Dec 2014-2-Art-72A 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

A Teacher’s Teacher: Ellis Marsalis, RIP   3 comments

Ellis Marsallis-72A 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.

McCoy Tyner, Dead At 81   Leave a comment

4947342368McCoy Tyner— Image Source Penn State News

 

Posted March 6, 2020 by kenneturner in Information, Jazz, Music

Tagged with ,

Live Jazz In The Old Pueblo   Leave a comment

Old Pueblo  9724 - 2010-08-01-art-72.jpgLive 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.

 

Come Blow Your Horn   4 comments

Old Pueblo“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

Cruisin’ Down the Road   1 comment

BelAir-0597_art blogImage by kenne

Cruisin’ down the road
Your arm over my shoulder
Miles of lovin’ smiles.

— kenne

Cruisin’ Down the Road Video

This Side of Paradise   Leave a comment

Yellow Bird of Pardise-1522 framed blogA 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

The People Know, It’s Winter In America and I’m Looking for Some Rain   Leave a comment

ct-gil-scott-heron01-art-blogGill 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.

Morning Is Bright — B&W   Leave a comment

Alamos Street (1 of 1) B&W blog.jpgMorning 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

Ken Nordine — “What Time Is It?”   Leave a comment

R-667478-1341524324-7196.jpegKen 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

Old Pueblo

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

Round About Midnight   Leave a comment

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAA.J. Murphy, September 2002 — Image by kenne

Round About Midnight
by Bob Kaufman

Jazz radio on a midnight kick,
Round about Midnight.

Sitting on the bed,
With a jazz type chick
Round about Midnight,

Piano laughter, in my ears,
Round about Midnight.

Stirring up laughter, dying tears,
Round about Midnight.

Soft blue voices, muted grins,
Excited voices, Father’s sins,
Round about Midnight.

Come on baby, take off your clothes,
Round about Midnight

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