Animus Mundi - Music of Life

Carmen McRae - Love for Sale

2011-06-14T08:19:00.000-07:00

This segment is taken from a 1962 episode of the television show "Jazz Casual" and features Carmen McRae vocals; Norman Simmons piano; Victor Sproles bass; and Walter Perkins drums.

Carmen Mercedes McRae (April 8, 1920 – November 10, 1994) was an American jazz singer, composer, pianist, and actress. Considered one of the most influential jazz vocalists of the 20th century, it was her behind-the-beat phrasing and her ironic interpretations of song lyrics that made her memorable. McRae drew inspiration from Billie Holiday, but established her own distinctive voice. She went on to record over 60 albums, enjoying a rich musical career, performing and recording in the United States, Europe, and Japan.

Three Finger Christina feeding sharks

2011-04-25T03:34:00.000-07:00

This is actual underwater footage of Three-Finger Christina feeding sharks.

This is unreal. Watch till the very end!

March 27 - Happy Birthday Sarah Vaughan

2011-03-27T10:36:00.000-07:00

Sarah Lois Vaughan was born on March 27, 1924 in Newark, New Jersey and surrounded by music early on as her father played guitar and piano and her mother sang in their church choir. Sarah began studying piano at the age of seven as well as singing in her church choir. As a teen Vaughan began sneaking into local clubs and performed on piano primarily though sang sometimes too. Sarah attended Newark Arts High School, the first 'magnet' high school before leaving her junior year to concentrate on music. Vaughan accompanied her friend on piano at the Apollo Amateur Night contest before deciding to go back and enter herself as a vocalist. Vaughan won that night and was asked to open for Ella Fitzgerald at the Apollo which led to her hiring by Earl Hines in 1943.

Sarah toured with Earl Hines for several years in a band that included Billy Eckstein, Dizzy Gillespie, Charlie Parker and Bennie Green among others before Eckstein left to form his own band and took Sarah with him. Vaughan recorded her the song "I'll Wait and Pray" with Eckstein's band and this led to producer Leonard Feather asking Sarah to record her own record and she left Eckstein's in 1945 and began her solo career. Sarah began performing at clubs on 52nd Street in New York and recorded "Lover Man" with Dizzy Gillespie, Charlie Parker, Al Haig, Curly Russel and Sid Catlett before performing regularly at Cafe Society, New York's first integrated club. Vaughan recorded many records on the label Musicraft before signing with Columbia Records in 1948.

Sarah recorded several hits with Columbia as they asked to record mostly commercial tunes and was gaining national acclaim winning Esquire magazine's New Star Award in 1947, awards from Down Beat magazine from '47-'52, and from Metronome from '48-'53. Vaughan had enough of being told what music to record and switched to Mercury Records in 1954 and her success continued including "Broken Hearted Melody", her first gold record. One of Sarah's favorite albums of this time was 'Sarah Vaughan with Clifford Brown' in 1954. She closed out the 1950s by being featured at Newport Jazz Festival, Carnegie Hall and a tour of Europe. Vaughan's highlights in the 1960s included a recording in Denmark with Quincy Jones called 'Sassy Swings the Tivoli' and an appearance at the White House for then President Johnson. Due to being taken advantage of time and again by record companies Sarah didn't record much in the end of decade but began again in 1971 for Mainstream Records as well as being asked to perform a private concert for U.S. President Gerald Ford and French President Giscard d'Estaing. Sarah switched labels again, now with Norman Granz' Pablo Records and kept going strong in to 1980s.

In 1980 Sarah Vaughan received a plaque on 52nd Street outside the CBS building commemorating the Jazz Clubs she used to perform at now replaced with office buildings. In 1981 she won an Emmy for "Individual Achievement-Special Class" and followed that by winning a Grammy for Best Vocal Jazz Performance, Female. In 1985 Vaughan received a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame and in '88 was elected to the American Jazz Hall of Fame. She also received the George and Ira Gershwin Award for Lifetime Musical Achievement in addition to many more. Sarah Vaughan passed in 1990 and leaves a legacy as one of the greatest Jazz singers ever earning nicknames such as "The Divine One" and rightly so.

“there's a category for me. I like to be referred to as a good singer of good songs in good taste.”

“When I sing, trouble can sit right on my shoulder and I don't even notice.” - Sarah Vaughan

Source: Jazz on the Tube

What a Wonderful World

2011-03-23T01:03:00.000-07:00

Beautiful duet from the Mt. Fuji Jazz Festival by George Adams and Don Pullen.

Pinetop Perkins

2011-03-21T23:01:00.000-07:00

Just got word that Pinetop Perkins passed away.

Born in 1913, he released his last album in 2010.

That's not a typo.

Elton John, Billy Joel and Gregg Allman all credit him with showing them the way around the keyboard
and he influenced countless thousands of others.

Here he is as a sideman with Muddy Waters.

Gemma Genazzano

2011-03-11T02:00:00.000-08:00

Gemma Genazzano has been called a "Latin Soul Goddess" and for very good reason. Living between Barcelona and New York, she has been captivating audiences with her irresistible voice, Spanish lyrics, exotic melodies, and sensual soul rhythms.

Carnival Time

2011-03-09T08:01:00.000-08:00

It's Carnival time and today is Mardi Gras day.

Today's video is not jazz. Instead it's what Miles Davis referred to in a recent video interview we posted with him as "social music."

The video was made to promote and support a cultural exchange between New Orleans and the north of England, specifically the hyper-musical cities of Liverpool and Manchester.

I call the piece Trans-Atltanic mix.

Alexander's Ragtime Band

2011-03-08T05:05:00.000-08:00

Today is the day of the woman - which commemorates the tragic fire in NYC on this date that killed over 100 women. To learn more about this event - click here.

Today I wanted to feature the most popular song of that year.

1911 was the year of Irving Berlin's "Alexander's Ragtime Band" - introduced on stage by Emma Carus - a "cheerful revolt against the prejudices of Victorian America" (Rosen, p. 91). But Victorian America was of course still alive. Two major hits served as a kind of counter model to the new music from the streets of New York. Nostalgia for the good ol ' days was the other answer to urban life: "I Want A Girl (Just Like The Girl That Married Dear Old Dad)" and "Down By The Old Mill Stream". That year also saw for example a revival of "Silver Threads Among The Gold" (Rexford/Danks), a song first published in 1873. Listening to other hits of the year it becomes clear how much "Alexander's Ragtime Band" stood out against the rest:

"What Alexander succeeded in doing was to take a style already in vogue and make it a national passion. Alexander sold one million copies within a few months; before the end of the year it was the most frequently heard popular song in the country. [...] With everybody in tin-pan alley writing ragtime songs, the former emphasis upon formal, stilted melodies was nowplaced on comparatively less formal and less stilted rhythms. This change of emphasis made it possible for a new vitality to enter the writing of popular song" (Jablonski, quoted in Furia, p. 43)

I love You Porgy - Keith Jarrett

2011-03-03T02:30:00.000-08:00

As a pianist - I am very familiar with what you can make a piano do ... and consequently, I appreciate an excellent performance even more. Here's one I think you will enjoy - from one of my favorite pianists, Keith Jarrett.

Gabrielle Giffords: How music therapy is helping her recovery

2011-03-02T05:26:00.000-08:00

Just seven weeks ago, a would-be assassin left Gabrielle Giffords for dead after shooting her at point-blank range outside an Arizona shopping mall.

The 40-year-old US congresswoman not only survived a bullet through her brain, but is now delighting family, friends and doctors with her astonishing recovery.

Today, The Sunday Telegraph can reveal how a pioneering music therapy technique is helping Miss Giffords regain her faculties, after being granted behind-the-scenes access to her Houston rehabilitation clinic.

Remarkably, a nursery rhyme that generations of parents have sung to their children to lull them to sleep has played a key role in bringing her back to life as she learns to talk and, eventually, walk again.

When Miss Giffords mouthed the words of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star as her music therapist Maegan Morrow sang the ditty and strummed a guitar, it brought tears to those gathered at her bedside.

She has now progressed to sing-alongs of jazz and rock classics such as I Can't Give You Anything But Love and American Pie in her sixth-floor room at The Institute for Rehabilitation and Research (TIRR) in Memorial Hermann hospital.

Miss Giffords was shot on January 8 during an unprovoked rampage by Jared Loughner, a mentally disturbed 22-year-old. In scenes that shocked the world, he fired opened fire on the politician and went on to kill six and injure 12 others at a public forum in Tucson, Arizona.

Initial reports at the time suggested Miss Giffords had died in the attack, and even when it was later confirmed that she had survived, it was widely presumed that she would spent the rest of her life in a vegetative state. Since then though, she has confounded all expectations, partly through what doctors describe as a sheer willpower on her behalf.

She has taken her first few steps, gently pushing a shopping trolley aided by her therapists, spoken her first words, and added sushi and matzo ball soup, a traditional Jewish dish delivered by her rabbi, to her hospital diet.

She is recovering so well that her husband Mark Kelly, a US astronaut, hopes that in April she will travel to Florida to see the blast-off of the final space shuttle mission under his command from Cape Canaveral.

For now, he visits every day after his own rigorous training sessions at the nearby Johnson Space Centre. On Monday she delivered a rendition of Happy Birthday To You for his 47th birthday.
She has also added American Pie to her repertoire after a recent visit by her rabbi Stephanie Aaron, who accompanied Mr Kelly and the congresswoman's teenage step-daughters. "She was singing it with Mark and Mark's daughters, who noticed that she knew the words better than they did," said Miss Aaron.

Miss Gifford's mother, Gloria, has told friends that her daughter's transformation from a "limp noodle" after the attack owes much to music sessions where family and friends "clap and hoot" as back-up chorus and band.

The neurologic music therapy - an integral part of her packed daily routine of physical, occupational and speech therapy - "really flipped the switch" for the congresswoman, Mrs Giffords said.
The bullet fired punctured the left hemisphere of Miss Giffords' brain - the control centre for language and right-side body movement.

Miss Morrow, a young Texan former opera student from a Christian rock and roll background, explained how music and rhythm work across all parts of the brain, helping a patient not just to speak again, but also to walk and even cope with the daunting emotional challenges.

"Neurologic music therapy works on both the physical and mental aspects of a patient's recovery," said Miss Morrow, who is prevented by confidentiality laws from discussing the specifics of Miss Gifford's case.

"It helps with words and memory. The patients automatically join in with songs they know and love. And of course songs and emotions go hand-in-hand."

Miss Morrow also uses music to help patients back onto their feet. Like a strolling minstrel, she plays a simple chord and shifts her weight from foot to foot with a basic waltz move - and the patients follow suit.

"We all have rhythm," she said. "It's so simple but so complicated. I play a little rock and roll or country beat and the rhythm immediately has its effect on everyone."

Miss Morrow asks patients and their families for their favourite songs - Mrs Giffords said that her daughter had also been lip-synching I Can't Give You Anything But Love, which has been recorded by the likes of Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald. The therapist also throws in popular hits by The Beatles and others.

“Loss of language and loss of cognition are not a loss of intellect or knowledge,” said Shina Morrow, another member of the TIRR speech therapy team. “Our goal is to retrieve that knowledge. The role of the individual patient is crucial. Their willpower and determination and motivation is incredibly important.”

A valve has been fitted to the congresswoman's tracheostomy tube that allows her to speak. Although little has been revealed about specific conversations, she did tell her husband she was "better" when he asked her how she felt and requested toast with breakfast recently.

Mrs Giffords described her daughter's progress in a recent email to friends in Arizona. "From a kind of limp noodle when you last saw her, she's alert, sits up straight with good posture ... and is working very hard," she wrote.

She said that doctors were planning another operation on the congresswoman to replace a piece of skull removed straight after the shooting to reduce pressure when her brain swelled. She added that doctors believed the bullet did not directly affect her main speech control centres.
Dr Gerard Francisco, the head of her rehabilitation team at TIRR, emphasised that while the eventual prognosis for every brain injury was different, a patient's level of personal motivation was crucial.

"The patients may not return to what was normal for them before injury, but our goal is for them to reach a new normal," he said. "We have been very pleased with the congresswoman's progress. She is a hard worker who is engaged in the rehabilitation process."

He oversees a therapy programme that ranges from low-tech tools - such as the shopping trolley that doubles as Miss Giffords' walking aid - to state-of-the art equipment. It includes a robotic arm hooked up to video-game technology and the so-called "Superman" weight-bearing computer-driven harness that supports patients as they learn to walk on a treadmill.

The congresswoman's own room is packed with pictures, mementoes and messages from well-wishers and a hive of activity for therapists, family, friends and aides.

The challenge, said her mother, was to restrict the number of visitors so that her daughter did not become too tired - although an exception is expected to be made for President George Bush Sr, who lives nearby and is planning to drop by.

Another regular face is her chief of staff Pia Carusone, who briefs her boss each day on the latest news from her home state of Arizona, Capitol Hill and the Middle East.

However, while the congresswoman knows that she herself was shot, she is not yet aware of the deaths and injuries to others. "Doctors have said it's not really fair to tell someone something so tragic," said Miss Carusone. "Especially if they might not have the ability to ask the detailed questions that they will have when they hear this news."

Charlie Haden Quartet West with String Orchestra - Here's Looking At You

2011-02-13T06:59:00.000-08:00

Isn't it so hauntingly beautiful.Love Ernie Watts on tenor sax.

Chet Baker - Not For Me

2011-02-09T02:31:00.000-08:00

Fontessa Getz Stan / Donald Byrd 1957

2011-02-02T02:46:00.000-08:00

Happy Birthday - Stan Getz

2011-02-01T02:43:00.000-08:00

Stanley Gayetzky was born on February 2, 1927 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania and grew up in the Bronx in New York City. Stan’s parents were Ukrainian Jews emigrating in 1903 and Stan grew up relatively poor. His mother pushed him to work his hardest and he had an interest in all instruments from an early age in addition to being at the top of the class. Getz received an alto saxophone from his father at the age of thirteen and by the time he was fifteen was hired to play professionally with Jack Teagarden’s band in 1943. Before Stan was even twenty he had played with Teagarden, Nat King Cole, Lionel Hampton, Stan Kenton, Jimmy Dorsey, Benny Goodman and Woody Herman. Getz had a hit in 1950 with Woody Herman’s band and his solo on ‘Early Autumn’ made him a star.

In 1953 the Dizzy Gillespie/Stan Getz Quartet was formed with Oscar Peterson, Herb Ellis, Ray Brown and Max Roach. In the late 1950s Stan ventured into cool jazz playing with Horace Silver, Johnny Smith, Oscar Peterson and others in Scandinavia. Getz returned to America and began introducing bossa nova jazz to the country. Stan recorded ‘Jazz Samba’ in 1962 and won a Grammy for Best Jazz Performance the following year for the tune Desafinado. Getz then recorded the album ‘Getz/Gilberto’ with Tom Jobin, Joao Gilberto and his wife Astrud Gilberto. The album won two Grammys for Best Album and Best Single beating out the Beatles’ ‘A Hard Days Night’. In the 1970s Getz entered the fusion movement and recorded with Chick Corea, Tony Williams and Stanley Clarke. Without Getz this band would go on to become Return To Forever. Getz returned to bossa nova and straight ahead jazz and would continue through that medium till the end.

In the 1980s, in addition to performing with the likes of Kenny Baron and touring India, Australia and Europe, Stan taught at Stanford University where he served as Artist in Residence. In 1986 Getz was inducted into the Down Beat Jazz Hall of Fame. Getz recorded his last album in Copenhagen in February of 1991 entitled ‘People Time’ and passed away in June of that year at age sixty four. Stan Getz leaves a legacy as one of the greatest jazz musicians ever as his nickname would suggest, known simply as ‘The Sound’. Getz has received many honors and tributes and continues to influence future generations of musicians.

“A good quartet is like a good conversation among friends interacting to each other's ideas.”

“Life is too full of distractions nowadays. When I was a kid we had a little Emerson radio and that was it. We were more dedicated. We didn't have a choice.”

“We made records to document ourselves, not to sell a lot of records. I still feel that way. I put out a record because I think it's beautiful, not necessarily commercial.”

"It's like a language. You learn the alphabet, which are the scales. You learn the sentences, which are the chords, and then you talk extemporaneously with the horn. It's a wonderful thing to be able to speak extemporaneously, which is something I've never gotten the hang of. But musically, I love to talk off the top of my head. And that's what jazz music is all about." – Stan Getz

Wes Montgomery Quartet - full house

2011-01-31T00:11:00.000-08:00

Duddy Montgomery from the Montgomery Brothers of blues and jazz. Yeah!!!!

Cal Tjader - Cubano Chant

2011-01-18T22:18:00.001-08:00

Sophie Milman Double Header

2011-01-17T10:55:00.000-08:00

I really think Sophie Milman is a talent ... and feature two of her songs as evidence.

#1 Sophie Milman & Oliver Jones - "Tenderly"

#2 Sophie Milman & Vasyl Popadiuk

What do you think?

Famous & Recognizable Jazz Artists

2011-01-10T11:55:00.001-08:00

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Bessie Smith - St. Louis Blues (1929)

2011-01-09T07:16:00.000-08:00

Although the copy is a bit scratchy -- this is a great song, and one of the best early music videos

G. Ph. Telemann - Allegro - Concerto for 3 oboes & 3 violins

2011-01-08T06:34:00.000-08:00

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Experiments with Sacred Geometry & High Magik

2011-01-08T04:43:00.000-08:00

Franz Liszt - Un Sospiro (by Marc-Andre' Hamelin)

2011-01-08T00:09:00.000-08:00

This is one the favorite pieces I used to play ... and I liked it so much, I am writing a book about a wonderful love affair called "Un Sospiro". To read the first few chapters click here. I recommend reading it with the music on in the background to get the full effect.

Chinese music - traditional pipa solo by Liu Fang 霸王卸甲劉芳琵琶

2011-01-05T08:04:00.000-08:00

The Pipar. One of the most powerful and intense instruments ever invented by MAN. I love all this instruments and their Music because I am more than multi-ethnic - I am musically and culturally ACCULTURATED. Such Beautiful sounds!!!

It's very emotional and powerful playing - a pipa solo style par excellence, by the internationally acclaimed pipa virtuoso Liu Fang - http://www.liufangmusic.com

la beauté, la puissance et la grâce de la musique traditionnelle chinoise, et le charme de la musique classique oriental!

The title of this classical master piece
is "King Chu doffs his armour" (Ba Wang Xie Jia), from traditional repertoire for pipa solo. It describes a tragic event around 202 BC (see http://www.philmultic.com/liufang/video/ for more information and a video of higher resolution.

The pipa has four strings and 30 frets, and is often referred to as Chinese lute or the Flamenco guitar of China, though the playing techniques are quite different.

Happy New Year !!

2010-12-31T03:31:00.000-08:00

2010 was a particularly hard year for me because of the unexpected death of my daughter Naomi in August, so while I look forward to 2011 with some optimism I also wanted to remember those we lost this year.

Here's a link that showcases some of the jazz musicians who passed away in 2010.

Auld Lang Syne

Of course, nothing says it better than that seasonal classic Auld Lang Syne - a Scots poem written by Robert Burns in 1788 and set to the tune of a traditional folk song.

It is well known in many English-speaking (and other) countries and is often sung to celebrate the start of the New Year at the stroke of midnight. By extension, its use has also become common at funerals, graduations, and as a farewell or ending to other occasions.

The song's Scots title may be translated into English literally as "old long since", or more idiomatically, "long long ago", "days gone by" or "old times". Consequently "For auld lang syne", as it appears in the first line of the chorus, is loosely translated as "for old times sake". We've all sung the song .. or heard many versions of it -- although for me still the most powerful is to hear it with bagpipes playing in the background.

To read the original & various versions of the lyrics, as well to learn more about the song (including how the song has been changed in various cultures around the world) visit wikipedia.

Here's a version with lyrics

Christmas Jazz

2010-12-24T06:07:00.000-08:00

A couple of hours of great Christmas music

Enjoy!

Videos:

http://www.jazzonthetube.com/page/672.html

Lester Perkins
Jazz on the Tube

Animals of YouTube sing "Deck the Halls"

2010-12-21T05:03:00.001-08:00

Jools Holland - Pianist

2010-12-20T03:45:00.001-08:00

Jools Holland Solo New Orleans Style Piano

Jools Holland and Herbie Hancock (instrumental)

James Booker - Please Send Me Someone to Love

2010-12-18T01:22:00.000-08:00

James Carroll Booker III was born on December 17, 1939 in New Orleans, LA. Booker’s father and grandfather were both Baptist ministers and both played piano as well. His sister’s music teacher taught James some scales on piano but it was clear early on this child had a special gift for the piano. Booker began performing classical music at the age of six and studied classical music until he was twelve. Booker had perfect pitch, instant music recall, and a photographic memory in sight reading. He was able to listen to Chopin, Erroll Garner and Liberace and play back their solos from memory. Booker also learned some piano from family friend Tuts Washington. James notes Ray Charles and Professor Longhair among his influences.

James’ sister had her own gospel show on WMRY in New Orleans and she brought him along one time for an audition. Booker impressed them so much he was given his own show at the age of eleven playing blues and gospel piano. At the age of fourteen he cut a few records for Imperial Records. Though they didn’t sell well Booker was so talented the company used him to fill in and over dub piano parts for different artists including Fats Domino. In the late 1950s he toured and played with Amos Milburn, Joe Tex, Shirley and Lee, Earl King, Bobby Blue Bland, Junior Parker and Smiley Lewis among others. Booker recorded his first hit in 1960 titled ‘Gonzo’ and it hit number three on the R&B charts and number 43 on the US Billboard charts. He continued to tour and make music throughout the ‘60s with artists like B.B. King, Aretha Franklin, King Curtis, T Bone Walker, Ringo Starr, Wilson Pickett and Little Richard. James’ career really took off in the mid 1970s after a performance at the 1975 New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival that earned him a record deal on Island Records. The album was entitled ‘Junco Partner’ and Booker followed that by touring with the Jerry Garcia Band in 1976.

In 1977 James went to Europe and made a few records including ‘New Orleans Piano Wizard: Live!’ at a boogie woogie piano contest in Zurich, Switzerland. In ’78 he played the Nice and Montreux Jazz festivals. Booker returned home to New Orleans and ended his career as the house piano player at the Maple Leaf Bar. His most notable record of this period was ‘Resurrection of the Bayou Maharajah’. James Booker passed away in 1983 leaving a legacy as one of the best New Orleans musicians who ever lived. Many musicians have made tributes to Booker including former friend and student Harry Connick Jr as well as Dr. John, Henry Butler and a CD tribute to Booker released in 2003. The Piano Prince of New Orleans aka Bayou Maharajah will long be remembered. .

BUIKA, La nina de fuego (2008)

2010-12-17T03:16:00.001-08:00

Django Rheinhardt - Swing (1939)

2010-12-16T02:19:00.000-08:00

There isn't much video of Django. This was filmed in 1939 just one year before the German invasion and occupation.

A comment from YouTube:

"The second my children hear Django playing they start dancing and skipping around without a care in the world."

Me too.

Dec 12th - Happy Birthday Frank Sinatra

2010-12-12T04:45:00.000-08:00

Francis Albert Sinatra was born on December 12, 1915 in Hoboken, NJ. His father worked as a fireman and Frank’s mother was heavily involved in local politics as well as ran an illegal abortion clinic out of her home. Frank lasted 47 days in high school before being expelled for his conduct. During the depression on the 1930s Sinatra worked delivering newspapers and as a riveter at a shipyard. Frank heard Bing Crosby on the radio and knew he wanted to sing and joined a local singing group in 1935. They appeared on Major Bowe’s Amateur Hour and won first prize. This eventually led to an opportunity with the Harry James Orchestra and after a short time Frank joined the Tommy Dorsey Orchestra in 1940. Sinatra’s presence helped bring this big band music to teenagers of the time as Frank recorded over forty songs in his first year with the band. The contract Dorsey signed Frank to entitled Tommy to half of Sinatra’s lifetime earnings which created some tension between the two. After a few years with Dorsey, Frank was able to get out of his contract with Dorsey which led to the beginning of rumors of mob ties.

It was also in the ‘40s that Frank began his acting career in the movie ‘Ship Ahoy’. In the 1950s his film career really took off and he won a Best Supporting Actor Academy Award in 1953 for the film ‘From Here to Eternity’. Frank made several more films after this and was nominated for a Best Actor Academy Award for his performance in ‘The Man With the Golden Arm’ in 1955. Sinatra was also making music during this time and working with some of the best arrangers of the time including Nelson Riddle, Gordon Jenkins and Billy May. By the 1960s Frank stardom had reached the point that he was able to start his own record company called Reprise Records and got the nickname Chairman of the Board as a result. During the ‘50s and ‘60s Frank would spend a lot of time in Las Vegas area and in 1960 made the movie ‘Oceans 11’ which was the introduction of the Rat Pack on screen. The Rat Pack consisted of Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr, Peter Lawford, Joey Bishop, Shirley Maclaine and sometimes others. In order to allow the Rat Pack at casinos in Vegas, many had no choice but to end segregation.

Frank continued on with his film and music career throughout his life as well as his heavy involvement in politics and many presidential races. In his life Sinatra won three Academy Awards, four Golden Apple Awards, four Golden Globes, three Laurel Awards and one Peabody Award. He won Downbeat Magazine’s Male Singer of the Year sixteen times and Playboy Magazine’s Male Vocalist of the Year seven times. In addition, add eleven Grammy Awards and over thirty nominations as well as the Grammy Hall of Fame Award. Every year the Empire State Building lights up blue on Frank’s birthday in his honor and he has been given three stars on Hollywood’s Walk of Fame. And I could go on……

“Alcohol may be man's worst enemy, but the bible says love your enemy.”

“I'm gonna live till I die.”

“Fear is the enemy of logic. There is no more debilitating, crushing, self-defeating, sickening thing in the world--to an individual or to a nation.”

“Throughout my career, if I have done anything, I have paid attention to every note and every word I sing - if I respect the song. If I cannot project this to a listener, I fail.”

“May you live to be 100 and may the last voice you hear be mine” – Frank Sinatra

source: Jazz on the Tube

John Coltrane - Every Time We Say Goodbye - 1961

2010-12-11T08:40:00.000-08:00

Alfred McCoy Tyner was born on December 11, 1938 in Philadelphia, Pa. Both his parents were lovers of music and encouraged McCoy to be one too. Tyner’s mother pushed him to study piano formally and he did so at age thirteen. By the time McCoy was fifteen years old, music had become the center of his life. Tyner’s early influences included the local R&B scene in Philadelphia as well as pianist and neighbor Bud Powell. McCoy’s talent was undeniable and his career took off quickly. He first gained exposure playing with Benny Golson and Art Farmer in their famous group ‘Jazztet’. At seventeen years old Tyner began a relationship with John Coltrane that would help define his career.

Tyner recorded on the 1960 album ‘My Favorite Things’ with Coltrane, Jimmy Garrison and Elvin Jones. This band would be one of the most influential forces in jazz music. From 1960-65 the quartet toured nonstop and recorded several legendary albums including ‘A Love Supreme’, ‘Live at the Village Vanguard’, ‘Impressions’ and ‘Crescent’. Tyner’s name became internationally known during this time and his piano style evolved harmonically and rhythmically; creating a vocabulary within jazz and a style on piano that surpassed most piano players of this era. In 1965 Coltrane began to experiment with more atonal music and embarked in a new musical direction that Tyner was not interested in following. It was at this time that McCoy Tyner began his solo career.

In 1967 he Tyner released the popular post bob album ‘The Real McCoy’ with Joe Henderson, Ron Carter and Elvin Jones. In 1972 Tyner recorded the Grammy nominated album and Downbeat magazine’s album of the year ‘Sahara’, which helped break new ground in bringing purely African sounds to jazz music. In addition to his other projects, since 1980 McCoy has been writing and performing with a big band when possible showing off his arranging skills. He also has been touring since then and currently with his trio featuring Avery Sharpe on bass and Aarron Scott on drums. Tyner currently has his own record label called ‘McCoy Tyner Music’ that is an off shoot of the Blue Note’s record label ‘Half Note Records’. He has recorded several records on this label including ‘Guitars’ in 2008 with Ron Carter, Jack DeJohnette and guitarists Bill Frisell, Marc Ribot, John Scofield, Derek Trucks and Bela Fleck.

In his life Tyner has recorded on more than 80 albums and won four Grammy awards. In 2002 Tyner was given the Jazz Master award from National Endowment of the Arts. McCoy is still going strong to this day and if you have the chance to see him live please take advantage.

"The Coltrane quartet I was in was like four pistons in an engine. John, Elvin, Jimmy and I were all working together to make the car go."

“You have to exercise your creative mind. When I write music, I’m exploring the question of who I am.”

“The reason for longevity is truth and honesty, and I think we that we possessed that and it manifested itself in our art form.” – McCoy Tyner

Source: Jazz on the Tube

Texas Johnny Brown - Nothin' But the Truth, So Help Me John

2010-12-08T08:15:00.000-08:00

Here's another song of the day pick from my husband - who loves the blues

Johnny is short on stature but long on talent and personality.

The Dave Brubeck Quartet - Jazz Casual

2010-12-06T03:37:00.000-08:00

Happy Birthday Dave Brubeck

David Warren Brubeck was born on December 6, 1920 in California. Dave’s mother studied classical piano in England with the intention of being a concert pianist and she gave piano lessons at home for extra money. Although Dave originally was not interested in the piano, he did take lessons from his mother though he never learned to read music and was able to get by with his fantastic ears. It wasn’t until Brubeck was in college that anyone even discovered he couldn’t read music. Dave’s father was a cattle rancher and Dave enrolled at the College of the Pacific to study veterinary science to follow in his father’s career path. While in school, the head of the Zoology department told Dave that his mind was across the field in the music conservatory and to stop wasting both their time. So Brubeck enrolled into the music conservatory and it was here they eventually discovered that he could not read music. Some professors argued that his ability with counterpoint and harmony made up for this but the university was worried of a scandal. They came to the agreement that Dave could graduate if he promised to never teach piano.

After college, in 1942, Brubeck was drafted into the army and served in George Patton’s Third Army. He was able to avoid fighting in the Battle of the Bulge by offering to play piano at a Red Cross event. After this he was asked to form a band by the army and it became one of the first integrated armed forces bands. It was also during his time in the army that he met and began playing with Paul Desmond. After the army, Brubeck went back to school and studied fugue and orchestration with Darius Milhaud at Mills College. After his studies he formed a few groups that had little success including an octet and a trio that included Cal Tjader. In 1951, the Dave Brubeck Quartet was formed with Paul Desmond, Joe Dodge and Bob Bates. The held a residency at the Black Hawk in San Francisco and toured many colleges with great success. During this time Brubeck’s quartet recorded a series of albums including ‘Jazz at Oberlin’, ‘Jazz Goes To College’ and ‘Jazz Goes to Junior College’. In 1954 Dave Brubeck was featured on the cover of Time Magazine and was the first jazz musician to ever be given that honor. Also during this time the rhythm section of the band changed to Eugene Wright on bass and Joe Morello on drums.

In 1959 Dave began making music based on a concept that helped define his career and contributions to jazz. The Dave Brubeck Quartet released the album ‘Time Out’ and it quickly went platinum. On this album and the ones that followed, the tunes performed were all in odd time signatures not usually played in jazz and western music. In the video play list above, Brubeck goes into detail on this concept in the first few videos. Three albums that followed in this concept were ‘Time Further Out’, ‘Time In Outer Space’, and ‘Time Changes’. In 1963 the group made the also famous album ‘Live at Carnegie Hall’. In the early 1960s Brubeck achieved another one of his goals; an all jazz format radio station. Brubeck’s quartet broke up in 1967 though he continued to play Paul Desmond and began playing a lot with Gerry Mulligan as well. Since then he has been playing in groups with three of his sons, who play bass, drums and keyboard as well as Perry Robinson, Bobby Militello, Michael Moore and Randy Jones. In 1994 he was inducted into the Down Beat Jazz Hall of Fame. In 1996 he received the Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award and in 2008 Condoleezza Rice presented Dave with the ‘Benjamin Franklin Award for Public Diplomacy’. On September 20, 2009 Dave was given an honorary Doctorate from the Berklee College of Music.

“Jazz is about the only form of art existing today in which there is freedom of the individual without the loss of group contact.”

“I'm always hoping for the nights that are inspired where you almost have an out of body experience.”

“There's a way of playing safe, there's a way of using tricks and there's the way I like to play which is dangerously where you're going to take a chance on making mistakes in order to create something you haven't created before.”

“We don't know the power that's within our own bodies.”
- Dave Brubeck

Source: Jazz on the Tube

Weather Report - Birdland

2010-12-05T09:42:00.000-08:00

December 1 was Jaco Pastorius' birthday.

In honor of a master bass player...

Sting - My One and Only Love

2010-12-02T06:18:00.000-08:00

Chet Baker - Tenderly

2010-12-02T05:47:00.000-08:00

Note: I also recommend you read my story entitled "There's Only the Music" about my personal experience with Chet Baker

Yma Sumac Triste Lamento (Aullay)

2010-11-27T05:37:00.000-08:00

The King Cole Trio - Sweet Georgia Brown

2010-11-23T14:39:00.000-08:00

Most people think of Nat King Cole as a popular entertainer. A STAR.

He certainly was all of that.

But he was also an extraordinary singer. I think he was the first singer to record an album entirely in Spanish. He also sang in French and in German. When he performed in the Philippines, he took the trouble to learn a romantic Filipino Kundiman - love song called DAHIL SA IYO, which means BECAUSE OF YOU. He sang it entirely in Filipino.

Nat King Cole was a formidable jazz pianist as well. This rendition of SWEET GEORGIA BROWN proves it.

He was also a wonderful human being. A beautiful individual inside and outside.

It was a tragedy for the world that we lost him much too early.

Proof: "Sweet Georgia Brown"

Enjoy!

William Kempff Plays Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata mvt. 3

2010-11-21T02:28:00.000-08:00

Pecadao - Caetano Veloso

2010-11-17T00:44:00.000-08:00

SONG OF THE DAY: PECADO - SIN

BY THE GREAT GAETANO VELOSO WHOM I MET IN LONDON WHEN HE WAS IN EXILE FROM THE MILITARY REGIME IN BRAZIL.

Besides being a professional musician and composer myself - my ability to speak Portuguese allowed me to get to know him. I hope you enjoy his music and his unbelievably sexy voice in this song as I much as I do.

Koko Taylor - I am a Woman

2010-11-16T02:29:00.000-08:00

She was a sharecropper's daughter  who became the Queen of blues.

Taylor's career as a musician stretched  more than five decades. While not gaining the kind of mainstream success other artists  did, she was beloved by blues fans.

Her hits included "Wang Dang Doodle" and tunes  such as "What Kind of Man is This" and  "I Got What It Takes."

Fellow legend Buddy Guy said of her passing:  "What a loss to the blues world." The head of The Blues Foundation said even at her age,  Taylor was still the best female blues singer in the world, just as she was when she started  back in the 1950s.

Here is a tribute to her - as she sings "I am a woman".

Santana - Smooth (featuring Rob Thomas)

2010-11-15T03:07:00.000-08:00

Today's song was chosen by my husband -- who is a big Santana fan ... he hopes you enjoy it.

MY DATES WITH ELVIS PRESLEY

2010-11-13T06:00:00.000-08:00

Yesss!!! that's me in the middle. Can you guess how old I was when this picture was taken? (I look forward to your comments)

Here's the story (and yes that is his hand around my waist) ... more about that later. Read on.

I was very young and as with extremely youthful girls, I had allowed the make up artist to thicken my eyebrows, load my eyes with mascara and put flaming red lipstick. The head of Publicity at Twentieth Century Fox had seen to it that I was "made up" by the make up artists just the way Elvis liked his girls.

The studio thought that a fresh outlook on Elvis was needed. Not only teeny boppers, but young Countesses of Austiran/Spanish/Italian nobility were also very much into ELVIS PRESLEY.

I was a classical pianist, dug jazz but was not into rock and roll that much. I though Elvis was drop dead gorgeous (specially at this time). He reminded me of the statues of the Kouros - Greek youth. Just study his beautifully sculpted features. A Praxiteles of genes must have created him. It was easy to convince me to meet him and then who knows?

One brilliant day in Blue Hawaii, Harry Brand of 20th Century Fox asked a friend of his who also happened to be a friend of my family, Vance Graham, a radio personality in mainland USA to bring me to the set of Blue Hawaii AFTER the shooting so that Elvis and I could meet and spend some time together. We did.

What was I doing in Hawaii? My aunt Amalia's lover was Vice Admiral T.M. Head of CINCPAC fleet. We had all been invited to spend a glorious summer in Honolulu and visit the islands. Elvis and I were excellent cover for my Auntie.

The publicity Department of the film studio suggested we pose for pictures. They took dozens, some of only Elvis and me. This is one with Vance Graham, but look closely and you'll note that it was really only Elvis and me. Please observe my flirty flirty eyes.

He was even more handsome when he was not made up. He had flawless skin, a sensuous mouth, and his manners were perfection. He was older than I was yet I was the more sophisticated of the two. Well traveled, linguist and so on.At that time,neither of us drank any alcohol. I still don't, except for Champagne Krug Clos de Mesnil. What of Darling Elvis? I won't talk about that. Time and Fame can sometimes be cruel Imposters.

We genuinely liked each other and enjoyed each other's company. I have read several times in the Media that he was only attracted to short women. I don't know what to say. I am five feet nine inches tall. He was over six feet tall as I was wearing three inch heels. As an entertainer, singer and performer he was, as Frank Sinatra would define it A - NUMBER ONE. He could have been a great actor. Indeed, his performance in Jailhouse Blues was stellar. As with Marilyn Monroe, he had been packaged as a Sex Symbol and much, much more.

I am truly thankful that I had the marvelous opportunity to know him and have a platonic love affair even if the romance was ever present in our minds but not openly discussed. In the 1960's he was still very much a creature of the Light. Oh! Elvis, you were beautiful inside and out..then.

Actually - we had several dates together ... (chaperoned as was the custom back then). But we did have a lot of time together - and as they say ... it was dreamy.

Please Note: In a forthcoming book called "I NEVER SAID I WOULDN'T F--K--G TELL."

There is a whole chapter on Elvis - and more about what happened on those dates. For now, all I'll say is that of all the famous people I've gone out with in my life -- Elvis in Hawaii was quite memorable.

Here are several pictures from the movie he was making at the time -- and keep in mind it was full of beautiful women ... but I'm the one he went out with after the shooting was over.

It's a Dad's Life

2010-11-09T03:59:00.001-08:00

Am going for a total change today -- at the suggestion of my sister-in-law Brenda Darling. Thanks Brenda - we loved it.

I hope you do to.

Miles Davis - Kind of Blue 50th Anniversary

2010-11-08T00:59:00.000-08:00

The 50th Anniversary of Miles Davis' Kind of Blue is a very historic event. Legacy Recordings is releasing a Collector's Edition Box set on September 30 to celebrate this very important release. Take a look at this piece and see why this is such an important release, if you don't already know.

For more information about Miles Davis - read my personal story about the time Miles Visited my home and we jammed together. It was truly a magical night I will never forget.

Narcisco Yepes - Concierto de Aranjuez (1)

2010-11-07T04:14:00.000-08:00

The following video is part 1 of the Concierto de Aranjuez

If you enjoyed this music, then I recommend reading my earlier article about Juaquin Rodrigo, the composer of this wonderful piece of music, who I knew personally and write about in this blog.

Paco de Lucia - Entre dos aguas

2010-11-06T02:52:00.000-07:00

Nobody plays guitar like the Spanish ... and here is one of my personal favorites - Paco de Lucia - performing Entre dos aguas in 1976

Errol Gardner: Misty

2010-11-05T03:46:00.000-07:00

As a concert pianist myself - I used to enjoy watching and listening to Errol Garner.

I think now famous DJ Johnny Magnus first played it to me when I was in my early teens. I used to visit him at the radio station he worked in Los Angeles and watch him caress his radio audience with some of the best jazz music of the time.

About this video: Erroll Garner Trio performing Garner's classic, "Misty", for a television program in Brussels, Belgium. Enjoy.

12 Year Old Prodigy Paints her Visions of Heaven

2010-10-23T08:43:00.000-07:00

These paintings (by a self-taught artist and pianist) are absolutely stunning, and even more stunning is her faith in God despite being raised in an atheist household. Incredible.

To see these amazing paintings and to hear her play on the piano - click here.

The Genius of Miles Davis

2010-10-08T00:44:00.001-07:00

Can A Single Note Repair Your DNA?

2010-09-09T23:34:00.000-07:00

Did You Know...

... that simply listening to a single musical note that vibrates at 528 Hz has been shown to repair your DNA?

All music that we're familiar with consists of notes from the 12-Tone Equal Temperament Scale. Each individual note has vibrational limits.

However, there is an ancient 6-tone scale of electro-magnetic frequencies called the original Solfeggio Scale. This scale, which was lost for centuries and was just recently rediscovered accidentally by Dr. Joseph Puleo, is said to hold unlimited potential in healing and personal transformation.

One of the notes on the Solfeggio Scale, particularly the one that vibrates at 528 Hz has been used by biochemists to repair human DNA. The frequency of 528 Hz appears to influence the water molecules that surround the DNA helix, thereby bringing about healing effects on DNA.

Perhaps the leading proponent of the miraculous healing power of the 528 Hz Solfeggio note is Dr. Leonard Horowitz, world famous author of 15 health science books, and Harvard graduated public health expert. According to Dr. Horowitz, all healing occurs from sonic waves or vibrations, specific frequencies of sound, resonating throughout the universe. He claims that human cells use DNA, like radios use antennae, to receive the note vibrations and attune the body’s rhythm to that of the cosmos. He refers to the 528 Hz Solfeggio note as "the frequency of love" which, in addition to providing health benefits, opens the portals to spiritual transformation.

This is echoed by Dr. Candice Pert, PhD, who states that energy and vibration go all the way to the molecular level. She further states that we have 70 different receptors on the molecules -- and when vibration and frequency reaches that far, they begin to vibrate. This vibration, which happens at the cellular level, opens the chromosomes and exposes the DNA to the frequencies.

Experiments involving in vitro DNA exposed to different recordings of musical styles have been performed by Glen Rein of the Quantum Biology Research Lab in New York. Four styles of music, including Gregorian chants that use the Solfeggio scale, were converted to scalar audio waves and played via a CD player to test tubes containing in vitro DNA. The effects of the music were determined by measuring the DNA test tube samples' absorption of UV light after an hour of exposure to the music. The absorption of UV light is regarded as a significant effect on DNA because when the DNA helix unwinds, it allows such absorption.

The results of Glen Rein's experiments showed that the Gregorian chants caused a significant increase in the absorption of UV light versus rock music, which had little or no effect. It was concluded that the audible sound waves of the Solfeggio scale can cause resonance in DNA and can, indeed, have profound healing effects.

To experience the effect of the 528 Hz note of the Solfeggio scale, just type "528 Hz" in YouTube.com and you'll find several videos that feature this healing frequency.

Dancing Kittens

2010-09-09T06:16:00.000-07:00

http://www.youtube.com/v/gY0MSuyaKMk?fs=1&hl=en_US">

Louis Armstrong - Born August 4th 1901

2010-08-06T04:13:00.000-07:00

Wednesday August 4th is the day we normally celebrate
Louis Armstrong's birthday but we've been having so much
fun we got sidetracked.

Here's the Armstrong performance that put Louis on the map
and lit the fuse for the Jazz Revolution.

To See the Video click here:

- Lester Perkins
Jazz on the Tube

Jessye Norman Sings: 'It Don't Mean A Thing'

2010-07-01T00:45:00.000-07:00

The effervescent Jessye Norman is one of the most celebrated sopranos, best known for singing arias on opera stages around the world. But opera lovers may be surprised to hear Norman's new CD, Roots: My Life, My Song, her first solo album in more than 10 years. Recorded live in Berlin, it's a cross-genre celebration of American music — ranging from jazz standards to spirituals and gospel. Norman calls it the music of her heart.

"This music has been playing in my spirit and in my soul all of my life," she says, "and I was remembering all of the things I used to listen to as a child."

Roots begins with an African drumbeat, but soon moves on to iconic songs from some of the biggest names in American music: Duke Ellington, Ella Fitzgerald, Lena Horne, Ethel Waters and Nina Simone.

Note: Be sure to put the free jazz song (on right hand side) on pause before clicking play - as the beginning of this song has a nice bass and piano intro that's worth hearing

To learn more about Jessye Norman and hear more of her fantastic music click here.

Happy Father's & Grandfather's Day

2010-06-20T21:42:00.000-07:00

This is a day that always 'kinda stops me in my tracks'....

I miss my father...yet I can feel his smile...

I can sense his rhythm of thought and comical musings...

I can feel his pride even as I type...

For I am typing to a new family in my heart...

A family of mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers and children...

All will one day sincerely know what it feels like to have a parent take their 'step ahead'...

...and leave you with their legacy...

Well, in my heart i believe my father would be proud of what he taught me...

...what I held onto...the value's...

his sayings of "no negatives, we're creating"....

to..."give each beat its full value" not only in music but in life...

....I know my father would be extending his hand to me to dance as we clicked through the pages

of all this great music in our network here...

Thank you for making my heart proud...

...for listening to the message to start "this great place to hang"...

...and to continue to believe that it will grow, prosper with love and sincere attention...

...I thank you for helping me stand in the shoes that I know my father would see his face in its
shiny leather...

...that he taught me to keep a smile in my heart...

...to share with honesty...

...to give without expecting

...to know that if you work hard with a full heart of passion

....your dreams will come true...

The Jazz Network is my dream come true...and my gift to you forever...

Happy Father's Day Dad...

...thank you for teaching me to reach for my dreams...

...and for this I will support those that will reach for theirs..

...and to me, that will be living my true heritage...

...I will do it with integrity and honor for the music and for being blessed to have a Father
like you...

I share you with our Jazz Network Family...

I love you Dad...

Happy Father's Day up in heaven...

P.S. For those of you who are fathers stand tall in knowing just how important you are to your
children, for its YOU that guide us with a strong yet loving hand. ....and for you mother's who have leaned into the father's roll for whatever reason. I love you, for it takes a strong heart to be both to our children, for I know this first hand... Stay strong!

2010-06-15T08:14:00.000-07:00

In 1974 PBS produced a special one hour program featuring Return To Forever and The Headhunters.

If that is not enough, it ends with a special duo performance by Chick Corea and Herbie Hancock in tribute to their time spent with Miles Davis.

I hope you enjoy!

http://jazzonthetube.com/videos/jazz-on-the-tube-radio/return-to-forever--the-headhunters.html

- Lester Perkins
Jazz on the Tube

June 12th - Happy Birthday: Chick Corea

2010-06-14T08:12:00.000-07:00

Armando Anthony Corea was born on June 12, 1942 in Chelsea, Massachusetts and his father was a trumpet player who performed Dixieland Jazz in the Boston area in the 1930s and ‘40s. Chick began learning piano at the age of four and drums at eight years old. His early Jazz influences included Lester Young, Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie and Bud Powell among others. Early on in his piano explorations, Corea studied with Salvatore Sullo who introduced him to classical music and composition. Chick also played drums in a Drum and Bugle Corp and its clear this had an impact on the way he approaches the piano. Corea started playing professionally in high school leading a trio that played the music of Horace Silver and also worked with Portuguese band leader Phil Barboza and drummer Bill Fitch. After high school Chick moved to New York and studied music at Columbia University for one month and The Julliard School for six months before deciding that formal education of such kind was not what he needed and he was ready to begin performing full time.

In the 1960s Chick played with Blue Mitchell, Herbie Mann, Sarah Vaughan, Willie Bobo and Mongo Santamaria among others. One of the first albums Corea recorded on was Blue Mitchell’s ‘The Thing to Do’. In 1966 Chick released his first album as a leader entitled ‘Tones for Joan’s Bones’ followed a few years later by the album ‘Now He Sings, Now He Sobs’ with Miroslav Vitous on bass and Roy Haynes on drums. Corea also played with Stan Getz on his album ‘Sweet Rain’ in 1967. In the late 1960s Chick began exploring the avant garde and in 1968 he replaced Herbie Hancock in Miles Davis’ band. Chick can be heard on Davis’ albums ‘Filles de Kilimanjaro’, ‘In a Silent Way’, ‘Bitches Brew’, ‘Black Beauty: Live at the Fillmore West’, ‘Miles Davis at Fillmore: Live at the Fillmore East’ and the famous Isle of Wright concert. Corea left Miles in the early 1970s to form his own group called Circles with Dave Holland, Anthony Braxton and Barry Altschul.

In 1971 Chick formed the incredible band Return to Forever which first featured Flora Purim, Joe Farrell and Airto Moreira. In 1972 he recorded the album ‘Captain Marvel’ with many of his own band’s tunes for an album under Stan Getz’ name with Stanley Clark and Tony Williams. Return to Forever would evolve and become Corea with Clarke, Bill Conners and Lenny White before Al Di Meola replaced Connors on guitar. In 1972 they released the album ‘Light as a Feather’ which featured quite possibly Chick’s most famous tune, Spain. Also in the ‘70s Corea would collaborate on a series of duets with such great musicians as Gary Burton and Herbie Hancock and would perform duos later in his career with Bela Fleck and Hiromi Uehara among others. In the 1980s Chick began moving in a different direction with his bands Akustic Band, Elektric Band and Origins. In 1998 Corea worked with Pat Metheny, Gary Barton, Dave Holland and Roy Haynes for the album ‘Like Minds’. In the late 90s Chick delved into classical music and composed his first piano concerto; an adaptation of Spain for full orchestra and it was performed by the London Symphony Orchestra in 1999. In 2006 Corea won a Grammy for his album ‘Ultimate Adventure’ and in 2008 he reformed Return to Forever with Clarke, White and Al De Meola. Also in 2008 Chick toured internationally with John McLaughlin, Kenny Garrett, Christain McBride and drummers Brian Blade as well as Vinnie Colaiuta.

At sixty nine years old, Chick Corea continues going strong and exploring himself and music. While his legacy is still in the works, Chick is a master Jazz musician and piano player and his influence on this music has been great. Corea also already leaves a legacy as one of the greatest Jazz composers in history. Among his awards received include over ten Grammy awards and many more nominations, has won tons of Jazz polls from Down Beat and many others, the NEA Jazz Masters Award, Award of the Piano Festival Ruhr and many others. Get out and see Chick Corea live and soak up the wisdom and beautiful music of a true Jazz legend.

“The most important lesson I took from Miles was his certainty as an artist. He was criticized in a lot of different ways, as most artists are ... when they try and do something, but he never wavered from continuing to make the kind of music that he really wanted to make. And that was very inspiring to me, ... that spiritual quality of courage and forthrightness.”

“It's very difficult for me to dislike an artist. No matter what he's creating, the fact that he's experiencing the joy of creation makes me feel like we're in a brotherhood of some kind... we're in it together.”

“Art is a subject that is inundated with opinions. In fact, that's all it is about is opinions.” – Chick Corea

Source: Jazz on the tube

New Orleans Musicians Need Your Help

2010-05-29T01:50:00.000-07:00

Note: The following letter was sent to me by Lester Perkins - who runs Jazz on the Tube. If you're like me and love Jazz, you already know that New Orleans gave birth to the music we know as jazz. But this didn't happen by accident - New Orleans is a unique place with a unique culture - and this musical culture is now at risk. I urge you to watch the enclosed video and spread the word about this problem.

Dear Isabel,

Long time subscribers to "Jazz on the Tube" know of our devotion to New Orleans.

Bottom line - and I say this after being ignorant the first 45 years of my life - you can't really know
jazz, American music or even America itself if you don't know New Orleans.

Nearly five year ago, we witnessed the horror of a city and people abandoned in the face of levee failures and flooding.

Today, an even bigger catastrophe is unfolding in the form of a reckless industry's unconscionable
"accident" in the Gulf of Mexico.

Lost in the news is a third New Orleans tragedy that WE CAN AVERT.

Please take a minute to watch this short video and if you believe in the message, please spread the
word.

Details:

http://www.SavetheClinic.org

Ken McCarthy
Founder, Jazz on the Tube

- Lester Perkins
Jazz on the Tube

P.S. Please share Jazz on the Tube with your friends and colleagues. If they like jazz, they're going to love this.

John Hesson

2010-05-28T00:49:00.000-07:00

My dear Maribel,

I can't explain in a "rational" way why this is on my mind, but it's on my mind right now.

This song was sung by my great-great-grandfather John Hesson (a native of Galway, Ireland) in 1864. He emigrated to America during the "Civil" war, and as soon as he got off the boat in Philadelphia (penniless) he was pressed into Lincoln's Army. He married an Irish-American girl named Jane (surname still unknown, but she was born in America in 1842 and both of her parents were born in Ireland) and he and she conceived my great-grandmother in 1864, shortly before he was sent into combat. He was slain in combat in 1865 - shortly before his daughter, my father's grandmother Mary Hesson, was born - and one of my father's great-aunts inherited the Confederate bullet that slayed him, and she showed it to my father in 1936.

I don't know any "rational" reason why, but for some reason, right now, my Irish great-great-grandfather is on my mind, and for some reason I want to share HIS song with a friend of mine tonight. So here ya go:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_VCX-Zdz5qA

It's Chet Baker's Birthday

2009-12-23T05:26:00.000-08:00

The dictionary defines the word 'lyrical' as expressing deep personal emotions or observations.
I'd say that is right on.

It's Chet's day.
Enjoy!

http://www.jazzonthetube.com/videos/chet-baker/happy-birthday-chet-baker.html

To learn more about my experience with Chet, I urge you to read my earlier post "There's Only the Music". That really sum's up Chet's life.

UNCLE" WILLY' GUERILLA COMMANDER WILLIAM SUAREZ BUCH

2009-12-11T06:50:00.000-08:00

This is supposed to be "Uncle Willie" William Suarez Buch; according to my father, his elder brothers and other relatives. Apparently, my Uncle "Joe' Jose Suarez Buch, who had a 10,000 hectare plantation in Malita, Davao, was given this photograph by one of the kris wielding Bagobos. It was found in a Japanese camp near Zamboanga, Mindanao in 1945.

The attack was in reprisal against the beheading of Commander Suarez as an American Officer and Spy. The fierce Tausugs of Sulu Archipelago, joined the vengeful Manobo and Bagobo tribes, in the attack against the Japanese where, it was said that they did not stop until they stood ankle deep in blood.

William seems to have been an attractive man. Indeed, even without the blindfold, he bears a striking resemblance to my handsome son, Marc'Aurelio also known as Tung Chi.

His body language tells us that he was calm, dignified and proud even as he stares ahead (blindfolded) into the future perhaps? or towards a rich and dangerous life with few or no regrets. William did what he had to do for the Filipino People, his people. In a sense it was also for the ethical, moral, and republican principles which he thought(then) America possessed.

I say, what a waste of Youth and Talent!

He has become a legend with the Manobo and Bagobo tribes in Mindanao.

Observe that life as a guerilla living in the deep tropical jungle, eating fruits, tubers, fish, oysters, snakes, wild fowl, etc. and drinking rainwater from crystalline streams, must have been a healthy diet, apart from the constant stress of being an Outlaw with a price of several thousand dollars U. S. for his capture dead or alive. He looks surprisingly fit and lean, almost this side of thinness until one notices his legs.

He was betrayed by a Makapili - a Mestizo ( racial mixture of Spanish and Filipino) for a great deal of money, said to be twice the original amount offered The Makapili whether for money or revenge drugged him with a cup of cha ( green tea) heavily laced with belladonna - a hallucinogenic drug. He was then delivered unconscious to the Japanese. The Makapili betrayed many Filipinos, Americans and those of us so called Illustrious families. They believed in Japan's declared aims for an Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere.

I think my Uncle was a Romantic Adventurer. He died in a most heinous way, not realizing he had been duped by the True Powers. Wars are nothing but huge rackets run by Hucksters for the benefit of a FEW.

I hope to God he never realized that it was all one giant LIE; a crock of human feces.

The tribes people in Mindanao and in the Sulu Archipelago, still see him as an inspiring icon of bravery and DIGNITAS( in the ancient Roman sense of the word)

Zorayde, my paternal Sephardic Jewess grandmother, who had been brought up as a Catholic and died of tuberculosis as a devoted and pious woman in 1943 in Manila, never had to face the execution of three of her formidable sons She birthed 12 sons; all tall, healthy, athletically built, handsome, green or blue eyed, with dark wavy hair, fair skin and all without exception: independent spiritually, financially and psychically.

It was a common expression in Bicol Province to exclaim,"Nobody owns the Suarez Buch men, not even God. They own themselves."

15 YEARS LATER

2009-11-25T04:34:00.000-08:00

Author's note:

Dunstan , my Chinese- American brother-in law was a brilliant scientist, en extraordinary multi - tasker, something most people today do poorly. He was a loving and caring husband. Indeed, he was an endearing man to all of us. Truly a most beautiful human being. A rarity then as now.

My daughter Cinzia was so fond of him, she flew from Bangkok to Los Angeles as he lay dying. She wanted to lend an affectionate helping hand to Carmen, whose superb picture appears on your left. Cinzia was there for his last days and hours. That girl has brains, heart and light - lots and lots of it.

Marlise, the poet, copywriter, advertising executive, and successful career woman, who wrote the haunting "Everywhere" is also my daughter. She is gifted as well,and multi-talented in addition to loving Carmen and Dunstan greatly.

We shall remember you always, dear Brother-in law.

What follows is Carmen's note and Marlise's "Everywhere".

My dear ones: As you are all aware (most of you are) fifteen years ago on November 25th which then was the day after Thanksgiving, my beloved soulmate/husband Dunstan died. This year the day falls on the day before Thanksgiving. I am sending the poem that my dear niece, Marlise Grey-Brophy wrote for me in his memory and that I read at his memorial service.

EVERYWHERE

In the fall mist,
In winter's kiss,
In the spring fog,
You are there.

In the cool morning,
In the clouds at noon,
In the white moon,
You are there.

In the lazy breeze,
In the flutter of leaves,
In the sparrow's call,
You are there.

In the murmur of the fountain,
In the trill of the phone,
In the squeak of the door,
You are there.

In the hum of the camcorder,
In the click of the camera,
In the whir of the CD player,
You are there.

In steaming tea,
In grated garlic,
In a perfect pear,
You are there.

In the page of a book,
In a lover's long look,
In a stranger's first hello,
You are there.

In the beauty of Vancouver,
In the expanse of China,
In the spell of New Orleans,
You are there.

In my mother's eyes,
In my son's voice,
In every choice,
You are there.

In every dream,
In every memory,
In every hope,
You are there.

Fifteen years later in the Fall. . .
I vividly recall__our walks, our talks,our hugs, our tugs, our fears,
our tears, your love, my love. . . I continue to live through it all_
Everywhere.

"Wo i nee."
"Te amo."
"I love you, my Dunstan."

your Carmen

MICHAEL JACKSON: A ROMAN NIGHT TO REMEMBER

2009-08-03T23:49:00.000-07:00

Author's Note: My daughter, Marchesa Cinzia Rodino di Miglione, witnessed this magical and triumphant Jacksonian night in Rome. She has graciously accepted to write about her bewitching experience on my ANIMUS MUNDI blog.

My first puppy love, a muscular and gorgeous hunk, was a basketball star in High School. Lovely Yes? His papa (accent on the last syllable) was one of the honchos of the Olympic Stadium. That's even lovelier Yes? Because Lorenzo, my FC (first crush) was designated by Papa as one of Michael Jackson's Security detail in the Olympic Stadium itself. One of the perks of having chosen Lorenzo as my first crush was that as a consequence I had a ringside seat. Mum was in Shanghai on business naturally and she was thrilled to hear that I would be watching beautiful and Arielesque Michael way up front.

"You see? Even your passing fancies have to be in a position to further your musical, sporting and cultural adventures," said she before saying "Ciao" and "I love you" and closing the conversation.

There was so much humanity. All lovers of Pop but especially of Michael. My ringside seat went for a $1,000 U. S. Lorenzo's father had gifted this to me as a way of pleasing his son. The least expensive tickets sold for $300. The Stadium was wall to wall people to use Mum's expression. Not even a flea could have squeezed by.

It was a typical Roman spring in 1988 - just this side of comfortably warm and blissfully sexy.

And then the drums rolled, trumpets blared, graceful dancers flew and leapt through the air. A series of thunderous rolls swept us all. There He was - doing his Sorcery - dancing, singing, leaping, gyrating and drawing us all into his vortex.

As a performer and as an entertainer THEN, no one came even close to Michael Jackson. For that matter no one ever would.

The exception was/is Frank Sinatra. No one mesmerized an audience for nearly 60 years as Sinatra did. Four generations of Americans adored him. The phrasing, breath control, voice, passion and charisma never left the Boss Man.

I was so close to Michael I could almost reach out and caress him. He was tall, dark, lithe and incredibly handsome. He had a remarkable range of voice. He hit the high notes with ease and descended to the low notes with the same ease. I am sure systemic Lupus had not afflicted him yet. I doubt he had done the Pepsi commercial where his hair and parts of his scalp burned and never quite healed. All the 70,000 fans present knew and felt they were watching Perfection, or a very good facsimile of it.

THRILLER lasted a good 20 minutes. I saw girls and boys my age being carried out by Police and Security. Michael's theater had overcome them for a variety of reasons. I wouldn't put the blame on drugs. Emotions are powerful forces. That's what it was basically. Sheer passion for the music. Most of the audience, including me, mouthed all the lyrics of his songs.

Diego Maradona, one of the greatest football players in the world, sat on my same row, a few heads down. Tears welled up in his eyes. Luciano Pavarotti was a few rows behind us with his young children yelling" Michael, Michael, Michael."

We all lived in Neverland for those 100 minutes of Entertainment. It wasn't only Michael who loved Peter Pan and never wanted to grow up. We were just like him. No thoughts of the Berlin Wall, Cold War, Somalia, Lebanon, Afghanistan, and Ethiopia. Princess Diana was still alive, gracing the glossies with her glamorous and fabulous looks. Italy was prosperous. No Mani Pulite scandals yet. And yes, Italian children were/are spoiled. Imagine parents spending that kind of money to see and hear a great performer/singer/dancer?

I couldn't help feeling it was all too beautiful and too perfect for things to last.

PLEASE WORLD, CAN YOU STOP THIS MOMENT? JUST MICHAEL ON STAGE AND US IN THE OLIMPICO?

After the performance and 40 minute curtain calls,Lorenzo took me through the

labyrinths of the stadium to meet Michael Jackson.I would define Michael a timid personality rather than shy. The wispy, soft little boy voice the media wrote about endlessly was absent.

Perhaps Michael is putting them on? I wondered. If so, they deserve it.

Instead I heard a well modulated contralto voice. There was nothing effeminate or freakish about him. I'm 5 foot 8 inches tall in my bare feet. I wore low-heeled shoes in case I might have had to walk miles to get to Lorenzo's Ducati. Michael wore soft leather shoes with about an inch in height. Lorenzo was nearly 6 feet tall. When they stood close together they were on an even keel. Michael was small boned which gave him a perception of fragility but he was exceptionally well-proportioned.

He told us he was going to Modena the next night for the performance of Luciano Pavarotti, who would be singing Arias from Operas as well as famous Italian folk songs.

"Do you have a favorite opera?" I asked.

Without hesitating he said. "Actually I am fond of Don Giovanni, The Magic Flute (Mozart) and the Ring cycle." ( Wagner)

No wonder Miles (Davis) digs him. He is not a lightweight musician, I thought.

Indeed, Miles had paid homage to Michael at the Montreaux Jazz Festival by playing his jazz arrangement of Human Nature.

I don't believe he was ever a child molestor. I believe he had a harsh childhood. Let's face it. Many fathers just disappear without even a Bye-Bye. Joe Jackson was severe but he was there. He worked "like a negro" as we say in Florentine Italian, to put food on the table and clothes on his 9 children's backs. It is rough to be black in America today. Imagine how it must have been in the 50's and in the 60's. That does not excuse his abuse, but I feel that his hard work and sacrifice for his family's survival must be pointed out.

I had a kinswoman of my mother's who suffered from Lupus and vitiligo. She was on steroids and pain killers. She died before she turned forty. I admire Michael's courage and fortitude to forge ahead, dance and sing and perform despite excruciating pain.

I love you Michael. Thank you for the years of Magic. You were never a passing fancy. Your talent and your Music will continue to vibrate and resonate.

TENDERLY: WALKING THROUGH DARKNESS AND LIGHT

2009-06-09T02:59:00.000-07:00

"Dahlink. the fashion show was too wonderful and not just because Eva and I modeled some of the gorgeous Gucci ensembles," gushed Zsa Zsa Gabor to Dr. Aldo Gucci, the charismatic chairman of Gucci Shops Inc.

I stood beside him so she and Eva turned to me ," Compliments, you thought up this show. It was a success, ma Belle."

"Really and truly," said Raquel Welch. " I can't think of a more enjoyable moment than strutting down that elevated catwalk. I felt like being on a stage."

Six months ago the Chairman of Gucci had remarked," Cara, cogitate something original to stage in our Beverly Hills atelier on Rodeo Drive."

Indeed stars, producers, directors, editors, real estate moguls with a couple of cosmetic surgeons and dentists spent millions every month on Gucci Beverly Hills.

Self-centered. endlessly pampered, but endowed with the most fragile egos most of these individuals possessed the mistaken notion that Beverly Hills Gucci made more loot than New York. Wrong! Gucci New York and Gucci Rome outdid them every month. Why attempt to inform the vulgar and the uneducated? What they did bring to the American scene was glamour and glitz.

"Dottore, the only kind of fashion show in a show biz town is to feature all the stars, the wives and daughters of the producers and directors as our Gucci models."

He mulled it over for a few seconds. "Perfetto Cara, let's dispense with the overpaid, under-age, underweight and haughty professional models. We'll make a splash and save money at the same time. "

"True, because we won't have to pay them. We'll choose their favorite charity, and all the tickets which the celebrities will gladly pay for because as a benefit for charity, it is tax deductible anyway."

The fashion show,"Gucci: California Dreaming" was created. It was a smash. Every television network including cable, all the wire services, newspapers attended and wrote feature stories which lauded Gucci to the skies. Over 200 reporters attended. That is a great number of media considering Gucci was not in politics. The actors and actresses loved it. For once they could answer questions and say whatever came to their drop dead gorgeous heads. No promo trips, shows on television or radio. They were there to show off their good looks clad in beautiful Gucci clothes, pants, shoes, handbags and jewelry. And... they did not have to be witty or even intelligent.

"Just look beautiful Cara," declared Dottore Aldo Gucci.

I much prefer fashion shows with actresses and actors than with professional models. First of all, few of them look like victims of Dachau,they instinctively know how to walk and show themselves and their gowns to best advantage, they take direction well and they are not as addicted to drugs as models.

"Listen Cara, I don't think using movie stars as models is a good idea. You are going to destroy the modeling industry," grumbled Gianni Versace.

"Really Gianni. All you fashion stylists are borderline pedophiles if not actual pedophiles by hiring 14 and 15 year old scrawnies. People like you will eventually destroy the industry because so many adolescent girls will die of anorexia and bulimia in an effort to emulate these sick models," I retorted.

"California Dreaming" was held in the grand ballroom of the Beverly Hilton Hotel.It seemed like the Academy Awards without the wise cracks and smart ass comments. Thankfully it wasn't as long either.

Nicola, the handsome and sexy manager of Beverly Hills Gucci was Commentator. Since he had bedded and/or wooed many of the gorgeous participants undulating down the ramp he knew just what to say not only about the clothes (the real stars) but about the actresses and stars themselves. Their latest movies, Academy Award and Golden Globe nominations and other delicious tidbits which revealed nothing scandalous.

Director Sandy Howard (A Man called Horse) among other film hits came alone "the better to keep you company." Sandy was more handsome than most divos of the screen yet he did not act as if he were handsome. He was the most unselfconscious and natural handsome man I have ever known. He was also kind and generous, qualities not easily found in a harsh town such as Hollywood/Beverly Hills.

After the accolades, the dinner and the speeches, Sandy suggested "Are you up for something real?"

All that glitter litter does get to you after a while.

"I've heard there's a dive on Fairfax Avenue near the Farmer's Market where great jazz is played. Will you take me there?"

It was Molly Malone's Pub and it appeared as if it had gone through a time machine. The decor was the kind you saw in the film noir of the late 40's and early 50's except that it was in black and white. Now you could appreciate it in living color. Round padded bar in scarlet, an immense mirror above the bar framed in gold and scarlet, Very Lily Langtry. Matching bar stools, scarlet chairs encircling small round tables.

"This used to be the old 575 bar," said Sandy right into my ear. It's been around since 1949."

"Never heard of it. What do the numbers stand for?" I wondered silently.

Alongside the bar was an intricately carved upright ebony piano. An elderly dapper man was bent on the round piano stool, guzzling what might have been whiskey. Sandy gave a 20 dollar tip to a wizened old man who looked like nothing in the world fazed him. He'd seen and done it all - his way.

"An old sage in Hollywood," I thought.

He led us to a table almost adjacent to the tippler sitting on the piano stool.

"That's wonderful Sandy. Thank you. I like to watch the hands of all the musicians," I said loudly.

"The man bent on the piano stool suddenly straightened up and the wizened Hollywood sage took his empty glass. No words passed between them.

"Now he looks like a pianist and musician," I told myself.

My eyes lingered on his hands. All pianists do that without thinking. It's second nature. How does he position his hands? Are his wrists supple? Fingers strong and controlled?. His hands looked disarticulated. Almost all musician's hands do.

And then he played one of the most beautiful and haunting songs I knew and loved - "Tenderly".

The old and beaten ivory keys now yellowed with age turned into crystal notes. It was pure perfection.

"He is playing Tenderly as if he is the composer. Only composers play their own music with such ardor and pain."

He was desperately alone, Just he and his piano. People were chattering in the back of the saloon but I was so close to him I heard and watched him play every note with such purity and clarity, the sign of a good pianist and musician.

I did not dare rend the magic by asking that most banal of questions "Who is he?."

There would be plenty of time for that. I had vowed that I would stay until Molly's Pub closed and then some. I had been gifted with something I had not expected and for that I would give thanks and remember this for all time.

He improvised cadenzas, develops chords from other chords, created notes from notes.

"He is also a fine jazz pianist."

I knew Orpheus had possessed him on this particular night. The way he had clutched at the glass of whiskey meant that he was addicted to the stuff but perhaps tonight he was a free man.

"Oh! that was beautiful," I told him with much emotion, as I bent towards his ear.

He turned to gaze at me and gave me a weak smile, his teeth yellowed from the whiskey. He smelled of it. He was permeated with it. I didn't care. The man played beautiful music.

"You know this song?"

"Yes," I nodded. It's called 'Tenderly' and its one of my most loved songs."

His gaze now penetrated my whole being. "Most young people today like rock and roll, soul or Motown. They wouldn't know what to do with Tenderly."

"Please forgive me, I know the lyrics of the song by heart, I have various recordings of Tenderly, but I don't know who composed it. Are you the composer?"

"Walter Gross is my name and I'm thrilled that you have come to grace this saloon tonight,"he replied as wizened old Hollywood sage brought him a fresh refill of a strong but fine smelling whiskey.

"You folks good for a malt whiskey?" he asked.

"Thank you, I'll take you up on it. The lady only drinks Coco-Cola, I'm afraid," said Sandy.

"That shit's worse than alcohol for your health, kid," he laughed.

I knew he was right. "Fine. I'll enjoy a Jerez." (sherry).

In his other pieces a bass, drum, tenor sax and trumpet player joined him. He played standards like Deep Purple, Stardust, Sentimental Journey, I'll Walk Alone, Invitation, From Here to Eternity, and Green Dolphin Street.

I kept my vow and stayed after hours when the place closed down at 3:00a.m. in the morning. Only Sandy and I remained. Walter Gross had consumed over ten whiskey glasses, just how much more I shall never know because I was so lost in the music that I did not keep track.

"Now it's your turn, how would you play Tenderly?"

"I wouldn't change the key in which you composed it."

'That's because you are a classically trained musician and can distinguish all the keys and chords."

"It's one of the ways I can show my respect for you since I happen to be a musician.I would not change a thing. It would be foolhardy to change such a sublime piece of Music. But if you play it once more, I'll try to sing even without a microphone."

"Done," he agreed.

And so I sang in a tremulous voice at first and then in a limpid, strong voice as Walter Gross, the fine jazz pianist, composer and musician guided me through the simple yet difficult notes of Tenderly. You could hear the influence Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart had had on him.There was no mistaking a hint of the melodramatic Puccini as well. Evviva!

It was almost 5:00a.m. by the time we left Molly Malone's Pub. I kissed him and embraced him. He felt so frail and bone thin. The alcohol fumes nearly knocked me out. No matter. Music was the only thing that mattered. Would I ever hear from him or even see him again? We lived on opposites of the Universe, I was in Florence, cradle of the Renaissance and he was in Hollywood Babylon.

I gave him my engraved calling card with my family's coat of arms. "If you are ever in Italy, please come and stay at my Villa of the Saracen," I murmured.

"I promise I shall certainly do that, if and when," he murmured back.

Sandy Howard drove me back to the Beverly Hilton in a Lincoln Townhouse. He was too much of an individualist to kowtow to all the Hollywood Accoutrements.

The Bossman - Frank Sinatra had recorded Tenderly a few years ago in a hit album at Reprise. Sassy Sarah Vaughan belted it incomparably, My beloved Billie Holiday phrased it and sang it as if her heart was breaking(it probably was) Rosemary Clooney had brought it to the top of the pops, it sold over a million records. Nat King Cole had an unforgettable rendition. Miles, the Prince of Darkness and Light played it, so did Trane(John Coltrane). Satchmo and Ella both recorded it. Tony Bennett, of course. Anybody who called himself or herself a singer/musician played and recorded it for posterity.

But on that particular night at Molly Malone's pub Walter Gross played it like no other earthly being ever could or would ever do again.

Rest in peace wherever you are Walter Gross. I thank you for Tenderly and the world will always thank you for Tenderly.

Author's Note: Walter Gross died of extreme alcoholism a few months after that enchanted night.

Sandy Howard developed Alzheimer's Syndrome in the early nineties and his wife at the time, who ever this monster was/is deposited him like a package in a sort of hospice and that was the last anyone of us who had loved him ever knew of him.

One of my favorite versions of Tenderly was done by Rosemary Clooney in 1952. Click here to watch it: www.youtube.com/watch?v=MbQjDxA7g-M

Peace Through Music

2009-05-11T03:05:00.000-07:00

Music has always been at the center of my life and my greatest passion - as a composer, performer or just to listen to. Many people, myself included, believe that music is perhaps the greatest accomplishment of mankind - and is shared universally. I've always found that no matter where I went in the world - no matter what age the person I spoke with - we could always find a way to communicate through music.

I'm sure you've all heard street performers - many of whom are quite good. I've met some wonderful musicians in my life this way.

Recently, I became aware of a website that features music performed by street musicians from around the world. The producer got several of these musicians to play the same song and combined the result into some absolutely enjoyable music.

Here are two of my favorites:

Don't Worry: www.playingforchange.com/episodes/4/Dont_Worry

Stand by Me: www.playingforchange.com/episodes/2/Stand_by_Me

Check them all out, it's worth the effort.

FIRST PUBLIC PERFORMANCE - BEFORE THE MASSACRE

2009-04-10T01:57:00.000-07:00

Note: The following is from my upcoming 5 book series entitled The Saga of Fray Paco - and is based on my own first live performance.

"There must be thousands of people in the square listening to Uncle Artie," said his wife Aunt Betsy. She was unable to hide the pride in her voice.

"He seems to be reassuring the multitudes and promising them things," observed his 7 year old niece, Lucrezia.

"It's a must for politicians to make promises," declared Carly, Uncle Artie's son. He was 10 going on 20 and he reveled in the political rallies, the songs and the dances performed by members of the Ortigas Nieto clan. Carly was not only bright, he had promised his parents that he would study Law and then run for Congress.

"I have mixed emotions regarding that kind of determined ambition in one so young, "Dona Esperanza the powerful Matriarch and Mater Familias of the clan had affirmed.

And yet she heartily approved of all the children who displayed self initiative and discipline.

"Even great human beings like Gran-Gran (Dona Esperanza) can often be flippy floppy in their opinions," thought Lucrezia.

Uncle Artie delivered his speech in Tagalog, (Filipino) a most difficult language to speak and pronounce correctly. He memorized the speech phonetically for he was of Spanish and English descent. He had never seriously studied the language.

During the Philippine Commonwealth, which lasted from the 1920's to 1946, the Illustrados (the illutrious, the elite, the wealthy and the intelligentsia) spoke fluent Castilian, English and Chinese. The best schools taught every subject in English since their colonial Master happened to be the United States of America. Tagalog, as other native languages and dialects was ignored if not snubbed.

"That's only for the masses," they sentenced.

From December 1941 until February 1945 the Japanese had occupied the Philippines with a brutality and savagery second to none. America was their mortal enemy and Manila was the capital of their Empire - their Manifest Destiny. It was a logical progression, if anything in war can ever be called logical,that the occupyng forces of His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Hirohito took pains to inflict as much humiliation and mutilation on the Filipinos as their rage and imagination allowed.

Manila, dubbed by all those who visited the city and lived there "The Pearl of the Orient" was crushed to dust. Lucrezia and her cousins had never seen the beauty that had once been Manila. Ruins and more ruins stabbed their eyes whenever they passed through the boulevards which formed the corniche of Manila Bay, considered by many to be the largest and most perfectly formed circular bay in the world.

Those who had survived the bombing and shelling, the fires, the killing fields, the tortures and the total destruction of 15th and 16th century Manila could not bear to look at photographs of the Manila that had once been. So the rich and poor post-war offspring never saw the bewitching and dazzling city of "Pre-war Manila."

Life continued even if the gashes which the Japanese Occupation and the American Liberation had wrought never healed. It was covered over with thin veils of songs and dances and gaiety. Even those like Lucrezia - the baby boomer generation and without a doubt those who would be born after the post -war - carried these wounds in their hearts and in their souls.

"Manila will never heal. It might take us hundreds of years to recover from this horrible trauma. Yes. I know we are often compared to the city of Warsaw in the sense of our suffering and our destruction during WWll. I visited Warsaw in the 30's. Nothing there of comparable beauty with Manila. Lord! the city has no bay,and no natural beauty. The Catholic Poles were a people full of intolerance, darkness and dread. Our Jewish relatives and friends here had no similarity with those in Warsaw. The Jews I came across with had no awareness of beauty nor of spirituality. Despair emanated from their pores. How dare the Press even make the comparison. God forgive them for they know not what they say," Dona Esperanza had stated unequivocally.

"It was kind of Artie Hagedorn to single out our town."

"You can say that again."

"Particularly in view of the fact that the Huks (the Hukbalahap Marxist guerilla movement) are killing as many landowners as they can in ambushes."

"They say that the Huks are hiding in the impenetrable mountains and forests of Montalban."

"The Huks are everywhere. They are all over San Mateo too."

"Is it true that the reason they became outlaws is because they never received any of the back pay which the Americans promised them as guerillas fighting the wrath of the Japanese during the Occupation?"

"So they say."

"But they are still Communists who do not believe in God. "

"Sssh! Artie Hagedorn is explaining why he believes that the Huks are more Nationalists and landless peasants than followers of Marx."

"These guerrilleros risked their lives fighting for their country Many died doing so. They left farms unattended because their families followed them into the jungles to avoid the reprisals which the Japanese meted out to guerrillas. When they returned after the war, there was nothing left. They had lost family through malaria and dengue fever. Unscrupulous men and war profiteers had illegally taken over their lands. The Americans and our government have ignored them and declared war on them instead. My clan and others close to our way of thinking are considering changing this intolerable situation. But first the Huks must show us that they are willing to consider laying down their arms. They must stop the killing of innocent peasants and farmers. "

Silence. And it seemed to last forever.

"Did Hagedorn just say what I think he said?" asked the Mayor of San Mateo, a faithful supporter of his platform and his issues.

"He certainly did."

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's cheer the man till we lose our voices. He deserves it."

The thousands standing on the plaza in the pleasant October air cheered with delirium. They choose to believe him. The Ortigas Nieto clan had never reneged on anything. The banks owned by the clan had loaned money to farmers and small businessmen without guarantees and at a low rate of interest.

"We must put our money where our mouths are. The country is laid flat. We must be active participants in its reconstruction. I don't want to see miles of red tape. Anyone engaging in red tapery will be fired by me personally," said Dona Esperanza, the largest shareholder of the Banco Fil-Americano.

After twenty minutes of furious hand clapping and shrill cheers Artie lifted up his right arm and signaled for silence.

"I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your rousing approval of our plan of action. It will not happen overnight. We will do everything to hasten it. Now, my children, nieces and nephews who are native speakers of Tagalog will regale you with a brief program of songs and dances from Rizal province, (where San Mateo and Montalban were located)

Uncle Artie and Aunt Betsy had decided before the rally that Lucrezia, who could sing and dance as well as play the piano would open and close the show.

Attired in a typical Filipino costume - crimson butterfly sinamay sleeves and a long skirt draped like a sarong to enable her to dance the intricate and graceful steps of "La Carinosa" Lucrezia ascended the wooden steps leading up to the make shift platform and stage. Uncle Artie was well over six feet, and the microphone had been adjusted to her height, except that it held center stage.

"Ah! that won't do. It's in the middle of the stage. I must be almost on the edge where I can see and feel the people," she thought.

"Magandang umaga sa lahat ng aking kababayan. Ako'y si Lukresya. Sandali lang po, gusto kong kumanta malapit sa inyo. Dapat dalin nila ang mikropono dito sa ilig ." Good morning to all the people of my country. I am Lucrezia. Please wait a bit. I would like to sing closer to you all. They are going to bring the microphone as close to the edge of the stage as they can.

The people understood at once and they replied with a roaring applause. Lucrezia bowed and then curtsied in acknowledgement.

The sun's rays struck the red butterfly sleeves of her Maria Clara gown. Lucrezia was a fetching site to behold. That image would remain imprinted on all the people who had seen her and heard her on that tragic morning.

Ah Wei, her Hakka Chinese amah (nanny) was suddenly filled with dread. For in the distance, the rugged hills and mountains of Montalban loomed.

"When I was a child in Fujian province, bandits usually attacked the rich merchants and the Mandarins as they rounded narrow stretches in the hills. They are perfect for an ambush. It has always been so."

Then the rondalla, a group of musicians who played on guitars and mandolins intoned the first bars of the folk song "Bahay Kubo" (Little Hut) Lucrezia entered on the 6th bar in a clear and melodious voice and Ah Wei put aside all her fears and her misgivings, for a little while.

"She is a magical being. Nothing wicked can ever happen to her because God does not will it," she prayed.

Lucrezia's eyes roamed the faces of the farmers and the peasants who had come to their political rally. They listened intently and mouthed the words of the song. Worn faces, toothless faces, sun darkened leathery skins, ivory skins, toiled bodies, smiling expressions on faces that knew suffering and endurance, "Mati-is" was the expression. It meant endurance devoid of rage. It meant acceptance of hard times with the implicit hope of better times.

"I love the Filipino people, I think I understand them a little and I feel for them," she realized as her song was drawing to a close.

"Really Luki,"murmured cousin Cookie. " Why did you ask them to move the mike so close to the edge of the stage? I'm terrified of all those brown faces staring at me. I'm always nervous before I sing."

Aunt Betsy, daughter of a seasoned politician told her daughter. " You'll be fine as always. There is nothing to be araid of. They love us, and we love them."

Cookie was older than Lucrezia and Carly. She was 11 and very conscious of her dark Malayan-Spanish beauty. It contrasted with Lucrezia's fair skin, blonde curls and blue eyes and it struck the onlookers at the rally in a positive manner.

The Ortigas Nieto clan was multi-racial, multi-ethnic, multi-cultural and multi-lingual. Yet they closed ranks during tumultuous and troubled times. Feuds had a short lifespan. Differences patched up quickly. Envy and Jealousy banished. Scandals ignored. Gossip had short legs. Character assassination, forbidden.

It was now time to perform La Carinosa a favorite with the assembled thousands.Carly was the swain and Cookie and Lucrezia would do intricate steps around him.

Most eyes centered on the three children. One lone figure in the back of the multitude put away the binoculars he had been using to look at the prey on stage. He slipped away swiftly and headed towards the outskits of San Mateo. His legs were like granite. He was an expert mountain climber. He knew every rock, stone and path which would take him to the site where his Leader and his companions waited.

"The motorcade will have to zig zag slowly through the sharp inclines and precipices of the Montalban hills. I'll cut right through and over the boulders and be there at least twenty minutes before the Ortigas motorcade gets to the pass."

He imitated the sound of a maya (a brown parakeet) and waited. The sound was repeated. He squeezed his thin frame between two rocks and stepped into the site of what had been designated as " Las Matanzas" the killing fields.

"You're late. You must have stayed till the very end," barked the vicious voice of the leader.

"I had to be sure which of the children was Lucrezia. I was only following your orders."

The slap that struck him was as unexpected as it was bloody. Two teeth flew out in a gush of blood.

"I would kill you if we did not need your knowledge of Montalban. Answer me, which one is Lucrezia?" he asked oblivious to the blood.

The young man talked through the blood still pouring out of his mouth" Sheesh imerd - she's in red (red) rnds even - around 7. Sheesh yellow er - she has yellow hair."

"Get ready. Everyone in their positions.You!" he pointed towards the bloodied mountain climber, "Stop that bleeding and get the carajo out of my sight."

Uncle Artie bid the people of San Mateo goodbye. "We humbly thank you for the affectionate welcome you have given me and my family."

"It is we, who are duty bound to thank you and cherish you and all the members of your family and clan who have honored us by coming to San Mateo, " replied the Mayor.

"Ah Wei, we are proceeding to Montalban. Since you are afraid of heights you can go back to Manila with the other relatives who swear they too will get sick navigating through the narrow roads of Montalban with its sheer drops," said Uncle Artie.

'Thank you sir. Just a kiss to Lucrezia? She hugged the child and kissed her. This feeling of catastrophe has again surrounded me. I am helpless. We are all helpless. It may be nothing at all. But I can feel that somebody hates the clan with such a biblical hate that it will stop at nothing to hurt them."

"Oh Ah Wei. It was just splendid. All of it. I hope I did not make too many mistakes. I think not. How did I sing? Did I dance gracefully? Please don't cry Amah. Is it because I was good or because I was terrible? Never mind. I love you and I'll see you all at Santol Mansion this evening."

EL CONCIERTO DE ARANJUEZ - JOAQIN RODRIGO

2009-03-31T05:06:00.000-07:00

Author's suggestion:

Before reading my personal account of meeting Joacquin Rodrigo ... I recommend you listen to all three movements of his major work - Concierto de Aranjuez (especially the 2nd part performed by Narcisco Yepes - who was playing during the concert I write about below):

1st part: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LxpRVbhWlLI&feature=related

2nd part: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxwceLlaODM&feature=related

3rd part: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OwBrv20CZDA&feature=related

Blind by the age of three due to a bout with diphtheria coupled with double pneumonia, composer Joaquin Rodrigo "saw' and felt Music even as he lay in that nether world of life and death. It entered through his every pore and permeated him. He lived it and breathed it. He imparted it to many of us.

The Concierto de Aranjuez was written specially for classical guitar. It is the first time in modern musical history that a composer wrote for this instrument and it is an immortal piece of Music. Rodrigo did not dedicate the Concierto de Aranjuez to Andres Segovia. He dedicated it to de la Maza. Perhaps that explains why the conceited though brilliant Segovia never once played the Concierto de Aranjuez throughout his long life.

Rodrigo was in Paris in 1939 while the civil war raged unabated in Spain. One million dead would stun the world and the Spaniards themselves. It was during his country's and his darkest hour that he composed El Concierto de Aranjuez.

The concert was first played in Madrid in 1940. My aunt or cousin twice removed Nini, (I never got the kinship clarified other than we were somehow related) who was then considered Generalissimo Franco's most important spy, attended the gala concert. It was a glorious event. Radio Espana broadcast it over the entire country. The audience in the concert hall cheered and clapped for 40 minutes. It lifted the hearts and souls of all those who listened for there was not one family in the whole of Spain that had not lost a loved one to "los rojos" - the Communists or to "los nacionalistas"- the Fascists.

I was first introduced to the concerto by my Uncle Matthias. Nini had sent a vinyl album of it to him. He headed a radio and television network in the Philippines for members of my clan, who were its main shareholders. All of the radios' programs struck the public's fancy, even The Classical Hour.

Listening to all three movements mesmerized me. To this day, I cannot imagine myself concentrating only on the Second Movement - the Adagio, a haunting and sublime lament devoid of pathos. Pure anguish and pain and acceptance of God's will. It was so unlike the mighty Tschaikovsky who could and did compose exquisitely pathetique music as witness his 6th Symphony known as La Pathetique.

The coolest cat on the planet Miles Davis together with arranger Gil Evans recorded the Adagio in his album Sketches of Spain in the early 60's, I think. It's mind blowing man!

Joaquin Rodrigo inflamed me to write music for guitar. Only I was tantalized and lured by the flamenco guitar which I then transposed for piano. It is not for the faint-hearted for it contains never ending arpeggios, discordant scales and rhythmic music. I called them "Danzas Atavicas." Atavistic Dances.

Gregorio Maranon, President of the Instituto de Cultura Hispanica - Institute of Hispanic Culture asked me to play the dances which I had arranged for piano at the Cultural Center. As a result of this recital, many flamenco cantaoras and cantaores sang the Danzas Atavicas as flamenco dancers in Madrid, Barcelona, Seville, Granada and Cordoba danced to its fiery music.

Then in 1973,the guitarist Narciso Yepes was to be soloist with the Madrid Symphony Orchestra. Only the music of Joaquin Rodrigo would be played. The entire week was to be dedicated to the music of Rodrigo. Indeed, a grateful people and an equally thankful Ministry of Culture were bestowing a series of honorific gold medals and a jewel to him.

I think Aunt Nini pulled strings because I found myself sitting next to Joaquin Rodrigo on the V.I.P. row. I couldn't help thinking that he was a rose between two thorns; His wife Viktoria and I flanked him. He was a giant. To me all blind men are giants, particularly those with that kind of musical talent and the true grit to carry on.

We had spoken at length when Nini had hosted a small reception at her antique filled flat in Hermosillo, Madrid's historic center. I closed my eyes because I wanted no distractions other than his voice and whatever vibrated from his soul and spirit. His voice lilted, and he smiled easily. I opened my eyes for a few seconds - behind his dark glasses I could see his half shut eyes. Viktoria stood beside him and she looked amused. I hastily covered mine with my hands, taking care not to cover my mouth with my fingers. He would have noticed the change in the timbre of my voice.

"Maestro, I think that everyone should learn the art of listening. Your Concierto de Aranjuez is so bewitching because all three movements talk to us. The Adagio is out of this world but it fills me with sorrow. I need the joy of the Third Movement, the Allegro to take me to a different plane," I told him.

"I agree," he replied. "I composed three movements but the world seems to have taken to its heart the Adagio. I sometimes wonder, why the young people of today who have so much, feel such an almost irresistible attraction to the Adagio."

The concert hall was full, the silence reverential. And then the Symphonic Orchestra of Madrid intoned the first plaintive notes of the Adagio. My face was inundated with tears. I made no attempt to wipe them with my linen hankie because the blind are sensitive to any movement however slight. I couldn't bear to disrupt his emotions. But my tears flowed like rain. I wiped my face with the palms of my hands. In silence, I took his left hand for it was the one closest to me and placed my tear - wet hands in his. I wanted him to know that I understood why he had written the Adagio. Death had compelled him. The death of a loved one. A child? An infant?

He held my hands for a bit and then he brought them to his lips and kissed them. Ah! now I know, even if you will never tell me. Only the death of an infant can cause this unbearable anguish.

In the Adagio I saw 9 year-old Bubi, my favorite cousin and playmate in his white coffin. Zita, my partner in pranks, dead at 22 possibly from a stroke due to diabetes, probably from a concussion sustained to her head when she fell as a result of a blow from her violent husband. Cousins Mila, Carly, Cooky, shot to pieces and then beheaded by Marxist or CIA fiends in the Philippine jungles.

Let the tears flow. Let the music go on. Life goes on too. The end of the Adagio tells us that acceptance of loss is important. That the belief in a higher power is comforting. That all children are innocent and thus ascend into the Light.

The orchestra begun the Allegro I glanced at his wife Viktoria. A slight smile formed in her lips. She nodded as if to say "Yes, you have captured the essence of the Adagio. It's a secret between us."

Joaquin Rodrigo died at the age of 97 in the year 1999. Preparations were being made in Spain for his 100th birthday. Viktoria had preceded him by 10 years. He granted an interview a few months before his death.

"Yes, when I composed the Adagio I was in despair. My wife and I were very poor. We had just lost an unborn son. But the adagio is also full of hope. I see that my son is going towards God and that comforts me. Life continues inexorably."

Now listen again to the 2nd part with your eyes closed.

To learn more about this wonderful man and his music go to: http://www.joaquin-rodrigo.com/index2.html

To see some photos of the beautiful Jardin del Palacio de Aranguez go to: http://www.gardenvisit.com/garden/jardin_del_palacio_de_aranjuez

MAESTRO MOISEYEV AT THE VILLA OF THE SARACEN

2009-03-17T05:50:00.000-07:00

"Be sure to use my name when you see Igor Moiseyev. I know him very well. The greatest Impresario of them all, Sol Hurok brought him to America in the late 50's and I was invited as the widow of Vaslav( Nijinsky, the legendary ballet dancer, choreographer and subsequently Father of modern ballet). So said Romola Nijinsky to me a few months before her death in Paris.

Almost three months to the day that Soviet tanks had entered Afghanistan, Moiseyev and his Dance Company came to Florence in the midst of a triumphal tour of Europe. Ah! The right of center and the extreme right mounted and organized protesters. Noisy Ones. Angry Ones. Carabinieri and police ( forze del ordine, the Italians call it) the forces of Order. Don't you just love that metaphor? The authorities bent over backwards to protect the Maestro and his dancers as well as members of the public. Fascist deputies in Parliament spoke out against the Soviet invasion in Afghanistan. Socialist and Communists defended their actions.

I did not give a flying fuck. Artists and Musicians did not fit into the political mold.We should not care about their politics because basically deep down all an artist wishes for is ARTISTIC FREEDOM to do with as he wants.

Imbued with this spirit and with the precious words of Romola Nijinsky I rang up the Teatro Fiorentino. He took my call. Dead or alive Romola was a powerful laissez passe. Not only because of her husband the one and only Nijinsky. Romola had written a best selling book on her life with Nijinsky. Romola had that Hungarian charm, moxie and personality. The aphorism says " All Hungarians possess something of the Count, the gypsy and the Jew in them.That's what makes them so fascinating."

It was all incarnated in Romola. She was Countess Romola de Pulski. Her mother had been Emilia Markus, a Judean actress known as the Balkan Bernhardt. She criss-crossed the globe in the days when a trip to New York from London took 20 hours.

Moiseyev had asked me to attend a rehearsal," We can talk during the pauses."

Bright blue eyes full of Life, well muscled body, disarming smile, a deep baritone voice and sculpted lips completed the image of Maestro Moiseyev.

We spoke in French and reminisced about Romola whom we both had been fond of. And then I invited him and his entire troupe for dinner at Villa del Saraceno in Bellosguardo. He had many more dancers then, close to a 100. The former Soviet Union did not mince money when it came to showing off their geniuses.

We decided that the last night of the performance a week hence would be a good date. The company could relax and enjoy la vita bella Fiorentina, even if politically the vita was not so dolce because of Afghanistan.

He asked me to stay and watch the reharsals as long as I wished to. I did. At a certain point he approached a tall DDG( Drop dead gorgeous) man and whispered something in his ear.

A mixture of cold and hot tingles ran down my spine. "Aha! That must be the highest ranking KGB accompanying Moiseyev and his troupe."

Without a thought of dissimulation, DDG man turned to gaze at me for about a minute, as if in that space of time while he took in the sight of me he was making up his mind. In the meantime he and Moiseyev continued their conversation.

"If only I coud read lips."

I did not take my eyes off him either. He was one of the most handsome men I have ever seen in my life and trust me, I have seen and known many. Then he turned swiftly towards the Maestro and nodded.

At that precise moment I knew that Maestro, his daughter Irina who happened to be one of his leading dancers, and the rest of the 100 plus dancers and musicians would come to Villa del Saraceno.

This was confirmed by Moiseyev himself when he beckoned me onto the stage to murmur." Cherie, A bientot. AVendredi dans la Ville de les Saracene."

I had no time for engraved invitations. The telephone would be my ally. To avoid diplomatic incidents and hurt feelings I talked to various high ranking American diplomats and informed them that I was not even remotely thinking of inviting them to my bash for a Russian legend. To a man, they expressed disappointment at the situation but took pains to express their understanding of my actions.

Ca va sans dire, the Russian Ambassador came with a large entourage from Rome. He was suave and sophisticated in his bespoke suit. (Caraceni from Milan, I was told. Gianni Agnelli's personal tailor). Fiat was building a huge complex in Russia, called Togliattigrad, in honor of Palmiro Togliatti, founder of the PCI - Partito Comunista Italiano. The Italian Communist Party. The Mayor of Florence and the entire city council would be attending. The Mayor was a spiffy dresser himself and always looked very fetching.

The Carabinieri and the police blocked off the road leading to the Piazza of Bellosguardo, where Villa of the Saracen stood in all her Renaissance splendor since 1521, Demonstraors and protesters never showed up. It gave me some satisfaction that the local authorities had thought of this. It showed me that some politicians can be far-sighted and intelligent. La bella figura of the Florentines had been maintained. In politics face is very important.

So much for the intime - intimate after performance party I was planning strictly for the Maestro and his dancers and the de rigeur KGB escorts.

I invited my beautiful friends from Florentine and Roman nobility. Some happened to be married to equally fascinating men. I think they all came out of curiosity. They had seen the performances of Moiseyev and had clearly been impressed with the power and charisma of the dancers and their repertory of dances from all the countries comprising the USSR - Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. At that time, most of the rich and famous in Italy regularly voted Socialist/Communist. Italians are always fascinating because they are chock-a-block with contradictions.

The menu was all Fiorentino. Bruschetta, Pasta alla Puttanesca, Florentine beef steak which you could cut with a fork, wild rucola and fresh mushroom salad. The Chianti wine flowed from a fountain which a friend who was a decorator had hastily improvised. For dessert we enjoyed a macedoine - salad of fresh fruits steeped in aged Taylor port.

My children Marc'Aurelio and Cinzia stayed up till the wee small hours. The next day was a Saturday and there was no school. It was a unforgettable moment in their lives because at a certain point after dinner, the dancers asked the beauties to dance with them. Moiseyev had brought several accordion players and in the Great Hall the sounds of the tango, polka, valzer, varsoviana, mazurka, and tarantella reverberated throughout the Villa. A couple of the young dancers taught Marco and Cinzia the mechanics of some of the steps of an intricate polka.

I met the handsome KGB spy with whom I had locked eyes at the theater. His name was Pyotr and he was a diplomat at the Soviet Embassy in Rome. He was the Cultural Attache. His Italian was impeccable. That figures. He graciously asked me to dance when the musicians struck up Tchaikovsky's Waltz of the Flowers. I wore three inch heels which made me a meter and 79 inches - almost six feet. Pyotr was taller by a good three inches. My daughter often reminds me of the striking figures we both made.

"Mamma, it was like watching Anna Karenina and Vronsky in real life."
Children can be romantic and magical that way.

Everyone stopped dancing when Maestro Moiseyev took my hand and led me to the center of the Great Hall. "What would you like?" he asked me.

"The Kaiser Valtzer." I replied without hesitation.( The Emperor Waltz by Johann Strauss.)

I realized that he was honoring me by dancing the Emperor Waltz with me. Yet he knew that I was reciprocating my admiration and respect for him. The nearly 200 people who witnessed it felt the same way. The fact that I was a good dancer and had danced the Waltz with my father, uncles and cousins before I turned 15 was a great advantage.

I am compelled to say, looking back on that wintry Florentine night that it was a night to remember for all time.

The party I hosted in Fort Lauderdale while" a smash", as society editor Martha Gross wrote, was anti-climactic. The musicians did not play a single note. None of the dancers danced. Neither did the singers sing. It did not have the magic and power and yes! the perfection of that night in Florence, Bellosguardo.

I asked Maestro what he thought about working out of gyms, pilates, aerobics, body buildig and such.

He threw his head back , laughed and replied," I think we are genetically wired for a long or for a short life. If you abuse your mind, soul and body you might die sooner. All this working out will not add a day to your life. I don't believe the doctors. The only thing it will do is turn you into a good looking corpse."

It was my turn to crack up. He then told me a Russian joke which was making the rounds at that particular time.

Two stray dogs meet on the street. One says to the other,"well, well, Valodya, how are you doing under this free life?"

"Not at all well Nikita. We had plenty of food before but we could not bark."

"Yes. I know. Now we can bark all day and all night but we have no food."

The first thing Yeltsin and his cronies did was to turn the Ministry of Culture into a sort of insignificant association. Money for the Arts? Forget it.

I think Moiseyev must be happy with Vlad the Putin. He has not only reinstated the Ministry of Culture but money is flowing again into all the arts. Maestro is now a national treasure to all Russians and to all of us who love the dance and his intelligent and artful way of globalizing the company these last 10 years.

In a few months Putin and the country will celebrate his 99th birthday. What a life! What a man!

MAESTRO IGOR MOISEYEV

2009-03-17T04:38:00.000-07:00

Maestro Moiseyev is the only man in the photograph. What a man! His wife Irina is holding his arm. Step-daughter Yelena is standing next to Irina. I am wearing a Panama hat and attired a la Marlene Dietrich in a masculine looking suit by Saint Laurent.

Luckily, some of Moiseyev's performances have been recorded. To see some examples check out these videos posted on YouTube:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=39Ed4HRjZBE&feature=channel

www.youtube.com/watch?v=63iLeBqNvAw&feature=related

www.youtube.com/watch?v=FG4sweEP9DQ&feature=related

MOISEYEV: A NIGHT TO REMEMBER

2009-03-17T03:05:00.000-07:00

I am printing an article written by Martha Gross, Society Editor Fort Lauderdale News - October 26, 1991. Newspapers are almost unreadable when you scan them. Below is her piece.

The performance Thursday was incredible; the party afterward, a smash. From start to finish, the Moiseyev Dance Company's opening night at the Broward Center for the Performing Arts was the kind of electric experience that sends you home giving off sparks.

It began with a hearty chuckle. After being introduced to the packed house by the center's exec, Bill Farcus, Judy Drucker confessed how upset she had been during the Soviet coup attempt. As president and executive director of the Concert Association of Florida, she had just booked nine Russian programs for this season, including the Moiseyev. "I said, "There goes the season. But then I called Gorbachev and he listened to me, so everything's OK. They're all still coming," she joked.

The performance followed. You could hardly hear the music for the clapping, cheering and cries of "Bravo!" Ethnic. Exciting. Dancers in boots kicking and stomping. You wanted to hop up there and stomp and kick with them. And those leaps. (Whatever happened to gravity?) "Ohhhh! My hands hurt, "Madeleine Sadock cried 40 minutes into the show, but I can't stop clapping." Who could? The best thing about intermission was that it gave the hands a break.

The 85 -year old Igor Moiseyev (Huh? he looks all of 60) doesn't entertain visitors backstage during the company's performances. But Drucker can go anywhere. She could probably sit on Pavarotti's lap on stage if she chose to.

At intermission back she went with the beautiful, statuesque Countess Isabel Suarez de Vacani , who hosted the elegant reception buffet later, and Kuwaiti Sheik Yusuf Alghanim, in whose magnificent Fort Lauderdale waterfront digs the Countess staged the do. It was soo huggy - kissy. Moiseyev hugged Drucker (she has gotta be the most hugged Impresaria of all time). He kissed the Countess's hand and both cheeks and she kissed him on both cheeks. (They're friends. She ran a party at her Villa in Florence when the Moiseyev performed in Italy.) And he shook hands with the Sheik. (He's 92? Can't be. He's far too handsome, slim and dapper - another man whom time has touched lightly.) They chatted briefly, then hurried back to their seats.

Drucker was greeted and waved at by rows full of Miamians who bused up by the hundreds for the opening. And after the performance, Moiseyev, his wife Erina, her daughter Elena Koneva, the 45 dancers, association members, and other special guests rode up to the Sheik's little palace away from home in north Fort Lauderdale. There they supped on various pastas, sipped Tuscan wines and chatted with the Moiseyevs and the dancers. Olga Semenova told how the company loves the weather here (Compared to Russia's cold? It figures.) And friendly. Igor Goryachhkin said he particularly enjoys that everything is not so ordered and predictable here. "We like all the differences.And your beautiful cars, wonderful food, great houses. You have so much. That's where we are going. It may take some time. But we'll do it.)

Jerry Hoffman noted that the Moiseyev Dance Company used to draw protesters, poster carriers and heavy security; including a host of KGB." This is their first performance in this country without the KGB on hand," he said. (Not that there wasn't plenty of other security. It's a given when you're being entertained by a member of Kuwait's Royal family).

Drucker was in her element.Raving over American Express and Alamo Rent A Car for sponsoring the booking. Chatting with many of the staunch arts supporters in the crowd - many of them close pals. "They're the kind of people I enjoy," she said. "Just people. I don't need fancy types. I like real people. You know," she chortled, while tripping out the door with Bob Burpee at the party's close, "like Pavarotti, and Baryshnikov and Moiseyev."

On the scene: Dorothy and Bill Meyers, Franca Carnevale, John Hoffman, George and Sue Levin,Yolanda and Bill Maurer, Robyn and Joh Cassell,Jerry Mager,Gregory and Mary Ann Wolk,Concert Association Treasurer and vice chairman Sanford Ziff, its director of development Lenore Toby, Met Opera stars Thomas Stuart andEvelyn Lear, Frosene Sonderling, Dorothy St, Jean, Eleanor Kosow, Marilyn Fellman and Mimi Alabiad (in a floating black and gold gown with that Middle Eastern look).

Miles Davis - Coolest Cat on the Planet

2009-03-11T07:58:00.001-07:00

In the penumbra of the screen theatre, Clint Eastwood, as a Secret Service agent, in the motion picture “In the Line of Fire” enters his dark apartment. He glides carefully like a duelist scenting the air.

There is a psycho out there who has vowed to kill the President of the United States. The scene is tense. The director plays with little light and a great deal of shadow. The audience is on edge. Then Eastwood turns on his CD player and drops back into the shadows as he strides toward the light colored sofa and sits down with a sigh.

“No one is going to pounce on me here. I am safe,” declares his body language. He remains in the chiaroscuro listening to the music that is flooding the room and the theatre.

“Miles” Cinzia my teenage daughter whispered to me and perhaps to no one in particular.

Indeed. It was He. The Incomparable. The Electrifying. The Spellbinding. Miles Forever and ever.

He was blowing one of the pieces from ”Miles Ahead”, which he had done with the arrangements of Gil Evans. No one ever again has played the trumpet even remotely similar to Miles. Not Dizz - Dizzy Gillespie, not Chet Baker and certainly never Wynton Marsalis. I could show off and rattle of several more trumpet players. All good ones. Why bother? We are not going to see anyone like Miles for eons.

Miles had died on September 28 of 1991. We were watching the movie in New York exactly a year after his death. That made Cinzia’s declaration all the more poignant.

He had been working on a rap album at the time of his death.

“Hey Nefertiti, I am sitting here by my window and listening to the sounds and the cries from the street. Man it’s a learning experience,” he told me in his throaty, hoarse and sandy voice. I always found it irresistible. It was the summer of 1991.

That summer was a harrowing time for the Middle East and the United States. Saddam Hussein had invaded Kuwait in August 2, 1990. A year later, it was still topic number one. Blah-blu-blah. All the television, radio and newspapers inundated you with nothing but news from the Middle East, panels, round table discussions and talk shows galore. Most did not know f---k all. The best thing was to keep the media from invading your thoughts, opinions and worse – so that you would not be inevitably brainwashed.

Miles the wise did just that. He listened to the laments, the rage and anguish and despair of the young, the old, the disenfranchised, the marginalized and the poor. True, the language belonged to the Blacks – whose ancestors had been seized in their villages and taken by force to the Americas. From one moment to the next they found themselves slaves to white Masters.

Now they could speak out, through rap and hip–hop. This was not original in and of itself. The Congolese warriors, shamans and griots had never stopped rapping. The Zulu, Shona,Baluba, Yoruba, the Masai, Watusi and Mandingo had never allowed their colonizers to silence their chants and their drums.

It was unique on the streets of New York that steamy summer. Miles without question on that fateful summer of 1991 launched hip-hop and rap. And because the cat was elegant and a once-in-a-lifetime class act, it was impossible for it to be sadistic, cheap and vulgar.

To be sure, it was erotic and full of flair and double entendre, but dear God! It was the closest thing to Heaven divine as Miles blew his 22 carat golden trumpet out of his magical lungs. Miles’s breath, I always called it. No, I will not retract the word magical.

He had mainlined heroin, then quit cold and never touched that venom again (unlike Chet). Then he took cocaine. He had recurrent tuberculosis. Pneumonia assailed him. Miles was frail; he looked frail, a small–boned potentate of Jazz and Music in its every nuance. Make no mistake. He was made of the finest titanium. Notes and rhythm flowed in his veins.

We shall never know what caused his untimely death at the age of sixty-one. Hospitals are notoriously filthy places. Toxic bacteria, chemicals, and infectious diseases abound. Doctors boast of their expensive state of the art machinery but they are as empirical in the diagnostics game as they used to be in the Middle Ages.

This is a racist question but I am going to ask it anyway. Miles Davies or no, do hospitals ever devote the same care and concern towards blacks as they do towards whites? Even if the black individual in question was loved, respected, adored and admired throughout the globe?

A sleek black Ferrari became familiar on the streets of New York and on the highways of the country. The Ferrari was a beauty to behold. As a rule, fire engine red is the color associated with La Ferrari. Miles had ordered a black one. He had ordered it expressly from Maranello. Enzo Ferrari, the Engineer himself as everyone addressed him had personally looked after every detail. This was not unusual. His attention to detail was legendary, but his gruff and almost always brusque nature fitted in wonderfully with Miles curmudgeonly character. This handmade Ferrari attracted attention, just what Ferrari and Miles wished for.

To say Miles Black Beauty upset the NYPD is an understatement. They found endless excuses to stop Miles, search his Ferrari, scratch the pristine leather upholstery, damage the varnish and goad Miles into losing his short fuse.

I doubt I ever watched more than two episodes of the television series - NYPD Blue. The scriptwriters wrote tight and smooth stories, but the images of Miles being harassed, humiliated, insulted and abused gratuitously many times over the years, filled me with disgust. The television series scored high on the ratings. I am told that not all cops are rotten. I still wonder about that as far as New York is concerned. Envy and jealousy pushed the police to ever more indignities towards Miles, who did not always bear them with stoicism. How many of us would?

To this day I hope I never have occasion to encounter an NYPD blue. But then, I am very fair and blonde. In the Metropolis I only ride in limousines vouched for by security companies. That is not so smart is it? I mean many of those limo drivers are former policemen. I avail myself of the services of Latinos and only speak in Spanish. The truth is,many of them are glad that I talk and converse with them in Spanish.

Miles did not come from the slums or the ghettoes. I believe the PC words to use are projects and inner cities. His family hailed from Saint Louis, Missouri. Miles was born with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth. The silver was so sterling he almost choked on it. He was raised in the lap of luxury. He was, what one would call well brought up. He went to posh prep schools and vacationed in the family’s vast estate in the gorgeous Missouri countryside. His family paid for his tuition to attend the crème de la crème of Music schools, Julliard in New York.

This surely explains why he never lost his flair even when the most horrible imprecations and obscenities issued forth from his mouth, when provoked beyond endurance. And yet, and yet, he stood out because he emanated class from every pore.

My son Marco and my daughter Cinzia and I for one have never recovered from losing miles and miles of Miles. Without a doubt, the world has never recovered either. It will not do so anytime soon.

He was erudite, well read, highly educated, multi-talented, intelligent and curious. Color was unimportant to him. He worked with artists and musicians of every shade and race. All you needed was to overflow with musical talent and passion.

Yes! He could be a beast if someone in the audience happened to be an ass by uttering surly remarks, laughing or generally behaving in a rude manner when He was playing. It did not matter if one was white, black or any other color. You asked for it, you got it. Miles pulled no punches then. He had a venomous tongue like Voltaire and he used it to perfection.

There is the famous story about the African American with a blonde, white floozy sitting on the front row while he was playing. The couple giggled and fondled one another continuously.

Miles stopped playing. This was intolerable behavior.

"Listen, you lout. Get your f-----g nigger ass out of here and take your f-----g honky assed bimbo with you.”

I was surprised to read an article on Miles in Forbes magazine just before the Millennium. I was a frequent reader and subscriber to Forbes. It was geared towards the Moneymen. Sometimes their forecasts sucked. They could be inane and boring.

Yet someone in Forbes, perhaps Steve Forbes? or a writer he had commissioned? was sensitive and hip. Their stock went up as far as I was concerned. I am still a faithful reader and subscriber, thanks to that piece on the Coolest Cat.

“They had realized that the lolly, to use a cockney slang for money, was not everything. Forbes was not so obsessed with megabucks and mergers after all,” I pondered.

One day in the mid seventies to the eighties Miles stopped playing. He had tuberculosis and his cocaine addiction had made him very ill. He might have been searching for new directions. He was not one for resting on his golden laurels.

Vinicius de Morais, the Father of the Bossa Nova, poet and composer of “Black Orpheus” La Garota do Ipanema” - The Girl From Ipanema who was himself ailing from extreme alcoholism brought him to my Villa of the Saracen in Bellosguardo, Florence. It seems Vinicius’s daughter was married to one of Miles favorite drummers.

In my family. It is almost a genetic requirement to listen to and understand Jazz. You have to love Miles, The Boss Man (Sinatra) Chet Baker, Mingus, Satchmo, Billie, Ella, Sarah, and Bessie. Vinicius, Tony Jobim, Astrud, Elis (Regina) Gilberto, Gaetano and Milton must inflame you inside and out. What happens if yo don't dig all that jazz. Well, you will not be banished especially if you are amusing but you will never be a part of our beguiling musical pentagram.

The acoustics in the Great Hall of the Villa del Saracen seemed made in Heaven. I had Joaquin Rodrigo’s Concerto de Aranjuez on the stereo. It was the entire Concerto, not only the Second Movement, which was the one Miles, had recorded with Gil Evans in his album “Sketches of Spain.” The soloist (on classical guitar) was a young Catalan, Renata Tarrago, playing with the Madrid Symphony Orchestra.

Silence reigned. Musicians always listen to beautiful music. They do NOT treat the music as background tinkles in which to engage in meaningless chatter. For a few minutes after all three movements of the Concerto de Aranjuez had ended, no one spoke or even moved. Then suddenly as if the demonic and bewitching spirits of the Renaissance Villa had possessed us all, everyone began gigging. It was impromptu and thus - not planned. Vinicius set his glass of Chivas Regal down on my concert grand Bosendorfer. I sat down on the piano and began the rhythmic cadenza for “The Girl From Ipanema.” Vinicius entered on the 8th beat, Mingus on the 16th and Miles skatted the trumpet solo in his deliciously raucous voice.

It was midnight, the witching hour. My two youngest children aged six and eight had stayed up, too mesmerized to go to sleep. I did not insist. Occurrences like these are not likely to happen again.

“Carpe diem!” said the Roman poet Horace over two thousand years ago.

"Dom loquimur fugerit Invida Aetas: Carpe Diem, Quam Minimum, Credula Postero.

While we're talking, envious time is fleeing. Seize the day, put no trust in the future.

Yes! Seize the day, the night, seize every moment and second. Live the Music. Take deep breaths. Never let it go. Never forget.

The last album Miles made was DOO-BOP. Easy Mo Blues produced it for Easy Mo Productions and Warner Brothers Records.

Buy it. You will find that it will kick you, gas you, cool you, trip you and teleport you to the Land of Miles.

Author’s note: There are literally millions of sites on Miles. Many of them feature several bars of his memorable music. Don’t be satisfied with so little. Buy his works. They are works of art as well as investments.

Remember: he only worked with the finest virtuosos in the firmament. I shall do a post as well on all the breathtaking and fabulous cats who played and collaborated with him.

By the way, Miles was also a talented abstract painter. Colorful, exotic and sexy. The paintings do not come with inexpensive price tags. Why should they? They are worth every thousand.

There's Only the Music

2009-03-10T12:30:00.000-07:00

A winter’s dusk at the sixteenth century Villa of the Saracen, in Bellosguardo, Florence is an awe-inspiring experience. Writers like Henry James, who lived at the Villa as well as D. H. Lawrence who spent disturbing afternoons there wrote about its strange effect on its occupants.

Contessa Lucrezia von Remo has played all the murderous “Transcendental Studies” by Franz Liszt. No pianist can ever master the keyboard without the conquest of these almost impossible etudes.

“My hands are sore. I’ll beat you yet, you monster,” she declares, massaging her hands with extra virgin olive oil. She addresses her comments to a rare print of the composer, which hangs to the right of her grand piano – a Bosendorfer.

"You have been dead nearly a hundred years, but no other virtuoso has found studies to perfect one’s technique better than you."

She turns around in her piano stool. She has been so obsessed with Liszt, who is a taxing composer; she has not noticed darkness descending. Her children, Marco and Chinzia, are attending a birthday fest at the Castle of Montauto, a few hundred meters away from the Villa of the Saracen. They won’t be back until six or seven o’clock. Mely, their nanny is with them. Her driver and major-domo Ruffo is out on an errand. She is luxuriating in the fact that she is all alone in this section of the Villa.

Perhaps I might brew myself a cup of Lap sang Suchong tea and take a warm, ruminating bath.

Lucrezia, still entwining her fingers sensuously around each other, rises slowly to turn on the overhead lights from the Murano crystal chandelier. As she brushes against her walnut desk piled high with books, musical scores, letters and documents, her gaze is drawn to a yellow index card placed carefully on top of the tallest column of musical scores.

”Kid, wake me up at four. Come yourself. Ciao. Chet.”

It’s almost five! The clock with the golden putti (cherubs) on her desk stares back at her ominously. Lucrezia bolts across the library, indifferent to the fact that she has a long tweed skirt, which hugs her waist and hips. She tears through the Great Hall, wrenching the heavy and massive oak doors open, sprinting across the Loggia of Baccio D’Agnolo, teacher/preceptor of the young Michelangelo.

“Chet!” she yells. In the immense, vaulted ceilings of the Loggia her voice reverberates harshly.

Lucrezia is taking the steep stone steps two at a time, and her knees are in agony.

“Chet!” she yells louder with a sense of unavoidable doom. She is now dashing across the Loggia on the second floor.

“Chet! Chet!"

Nothing.

Lucrezia swings the massive oak door open with such force she startles Chet, who is on his knees, naked, with a needle protruding out of his groin. His face reminds her of the color of lumpy cornstarch.

"Like the painter Arcimboldo’s monsters." She shudders.

Eyes crossing and uncrossing. Foam dripping from his mouth. Body quivering, and teeth rattling.

“Orrk is the only sound out of him.

He’s trying to tell me something. Could it be overdose? Is he trying to mouth the word overdose?’ she asks herself again.

Over … gasps Chet.

Lucrezia falls on her knees beside him as he crumples towards her. She catches him in her arms, brings him to her lap and cradles him.

“Chet! Oh no! Oh God!"

What shall I do?

Lucrezia has seen people she loved die almost by her side. Uncle Rudolf‘s last desperate heaves of air, his chest, a mountain as he fought for air, his throat choked with the dissonant death rattle as his heart slowly stopped beating. She held on to his hand, while her Gran-Gran , the Matriarch Dona Esperanza stroked his other hand and recited the Pater Noster. The Our Father in Latin.

But not this horrifying death by your own injection, this Thanatos (death) wish.

A slow anger begins to possess her. She shakes him. This is a stupid way to leave this life.

“Don’t you dare die! Do you hear me?” she shouts.

He seems to be opening his mouth. She places her ear to his blue lips.

“What is it? I can’t make out what you’re saying!"

Lucrezia is in such a state of shock the thought of panicking is not even a remote possibility. Look around. Don’t be afraid. Voices seem to be guiding her.

On the Florentine cotto, (tile) next to a sixteenth century oak dresser is a syringe filled with liquid. Relying on her primal instincts, Lucrezia crawls with difficulty by moving her legs and sliding her hips towards the dresser, with Chet still collapsed on her lap.

For one so scrawny and Biafra thin, I can’t believe how heavy and leaden a dying body can be ... Let it be the right one! Please!

The syringe with the lifesaving epinephrine, to counteract the heroin!

The needle with the heroin is still stuck in Chet’s pathetically thin groin. Slivers of blood are on it and the syringe is half full. Chet is starting to convulse! She has to remove the needle, taking care that the heroin does not enter his blood stream. Liquid and blood ooze out of the puncture into her bronze colored Donegal tweed skirt.

I cannot stanch it. What if he has aids? I will have to do this with care to avoid any cuts.

One arm is still holding Chet and she is aware of it only because the numbness taking over her muscles sends out sharp punctures of pain. Never mind. It will pass.

The blood he is losing will not kill him.

“There! It’s out!”

She places the needle on the floor. It rolls under the bed. With Chet across her left arm and shoulder, Lucrezia lunges at the syringe on a table next to the dresser. She succeeds on her fourth attempt. She tries to inject the epinephrine on his upper arms, his wrists, his hips, buttocks and legs. The needle will not enter his veins; what are left of his muscles has all collapsed.

“Please, God, please!”
Chet is flailing his arms, striking her, some blows falling on her face and neck.

That’s it! I haven’t tried his neck! What if I kill him?

“I implore you, Chet! Help me. Can you hear me? I am not going to allow you to die in my Villa with my children and my pianos and books in it. You can die another time and in another place. Porco Diavolo! Filthy demon. Where shall I inject you?"

Lucrezia grabs one of his arms and places it on his neck. Chet is still convulsing and raining blows. She is determined not to feel the physical pain. The anguish of witnessing his self-destructive death is more than she can tolerate.

“Just show me, please! Show me! Bloody hell, Chet! You’ll never blow your horn again.”

A trembling claw seems to point and guide Lucrezia.

“I have to inject between the carotid and the jugular? Yes? No?” He seems unconscious.

I cannot feel if he is breathing. Oh God! I’m not doing this right. What if I kill him? You have given me very rotten choices.

She plunges the needle through resisting flesh and pushes the needle slowly and unsteadily.

“Why is it taking so long?” she asks, clasping her wrists hard in order to keep them from trembling.

At last! All the liquid is in.

Now we wait and we pray ... What beautiful music he used to play. And his voice was like velvet. Let him live! ... I’m holding his naked body but I can’t connect with him.

She sings Chet’s song quietly.

“My funny Valentine, sweet funny Valentine, you make me smile through my heart.”

“Hi.” The sound resembles a croak.

Chet opens his eyes. They are uncrossed though rimmed with blood.
Then a stronger but still tremulous “Hi, Kid."

Lucrezia enfolds him in her breasts. Thank you. Thank you. We made it. You’re out of danger. And now I am remembering the horrifying event, which has just taken place. I am going to lose my temper, I fear.

“You bastard! Damn you! You could have died! You bloody twat! Suppose I had killed you? You swore to me, to all of us, you were off the heroin. Only grass, you said. God damn it, Chet!”

“Kid, I’m a junkie, okay?” he tells her in a detached voice, still resting his head on her lap. “I lie. I’m good at it. I’m druggie trash.”

"No! That’s not true. You are first and foremost a gifted musician. A magician with the horn." She retorts angrily.

Lucrezia’s first instinct is to query him. She stops herself. Why raise questions when you already know the answers? Chet had suffered an overdose. It didn’t take an expert to make a calculated guess. The stuff was too good or too bad. Either way it could kill you. Lucrezia did not condemn, scold or preach at her friends for taking drugs. She suspended making judgments on their use and abuse of drugs.

Perhaps they are dying souls! Why? I have no answers.

“Thank God! You’re all right. Look at you. You’re a worm covered in suppurating ulcers!!! How can you live like this? What the bloody hell kind of life ...”

Chet stretches a bony arm towards her face, still lying on her lap.

“Kid. Listen. Listen, man. I ain’t got no life, there’s only the music! You know?”

“There’s only the music,” she repeats softly.

The statement bludgeons her. It grasps her soul. She feels she has a glimmer of comprehension into his ailing spirit.

“Let me help you up and into bed. I’ll light a cigarette for you.”

“It’s grass,” he replies in a mocking tone of voice.

“Light it yourself. Join me in the library as soon as you are able?”

“Sure thing. Ahm…where’s the stuff?” he asks.
“My God! You can’t be serious Chet."

He does not reply and remains motionless.

Chet needed a fix and he needed it now. Reasoning, pleading and threatening would never work. He might get withdrawal symptoms. I’d have to call a doctor. He would do his duty and report it to the police. Chet would be in jail. My options suck!“

Kid. The H, you know? It’s pure, good stuff. That’s why I OD’ed,” states Chet casually.

H as in Hell thinks Lucrezia.

Chet has festering sores on his arms and legs. His shriveled manhood-penis and testicles are a pitiful sight to behold.

I can’t refuse him the heroin. There’s more dignity in his mainlining it than being mocked by police in a cell as he shivers and trembles trying to detox alone and anguished.

“Look under the bed, Chet."

He grins; his dimples stand out on his sunken face.

"Thanks, Kid. Cool."

He shrugs before getting down on his hands and knees.

"I’ll give you some ointment for your skin ulcers."

"It don't do no good, Kid."

"Damn it, Chet. As long as you're in my house, you’ll use the ointment because I’ll bloody well put it on you myself.”

"Right, Kid. Don't wet your pants. Ok? For a lady you’re sure as hell swearin’ a lot.

"Chet. I'll see you in an hour."

Lucrezia walks slowly back to the library on the ground floor. In a delayed reaction, her hands begin to shake. She stumbles on the salmon= colored leather sofa and ponders.

Chet must have entered the library and brought the index card while I was occupied with the “Transcendental Studies”.

She catches a whiff of putrefied flesh from the sleeves of her cashmere pullover. Chet's rotting sores! She jumps up and rushes to her bedroom next to the library. Off with her orange pullover and matching turtleneck sweater. Begone beautiful bronze skirt. She strips naked. The clock by her bedside table shows 5:30 pm. An eternity has gone by in thirty minutes. Leaving her clothes in a pile on the floor, she makes up her mind to burn the orange and bronze ensemble in her fireplace later that evening when all are fast asleep. She sprints towards her orchid-filled bathroom covered from floor to ceiling with a rare yellow marble. She swiftly turns on the bronze shower handle carved in the shape of a swan. The cold water strikes her almost violently. She stands tall and trembling. She leans her torso against the gelid marble and shuts her eyes.

Pull yourself together Lucrezia. You will not faint nor will you vomit out your entrails.

She takes a series of long and deep breaths and begins to intone the Pater Noster, The Lord’s Prayer in Latin. Bit by bit, the stink of death is washed away. The death, which she had touched, held and clasped against her bosom.

The water has cleansed me. Deo Gratias. I thank the Lord.

In the paneled olive library with the Bosendorfer grand piano, a Petroff upright, and wall-to-wall books, Chet is drinking strong, black tea with a straw, both hands holding the rattling Limoges cup on his plate.

"Chet, could you mainline anywhere but in the villa?”

I know Chet will not comply. Why do I ask such useless questions? One more day to go and then he’s flying back to Amsterdam via Milan.

“I can't stand seeing you reduced to the state of a ...protozoa," she tells him.

"Yeah, but that doesn’t bother me at all," he drawls.

Then he smiles his dimpled smile. The only thing left in his ravaged body that still reminds her of the young and handsome Chet, so very long ago it seems.

The Chet, who so inflamed me with his horn and his voice together with his sexy good looks, is not the same man who now pitifully sits across me. I am gazing at a carcass. I secretly guarded an overpowering infatuation towards him for years. I confused the man with the music I have been in love with his music that will last for all eternity. I realize this in anguish as I find myself gazing at him and reflecting. I met him face to face at last at the private jazz club of Prince Pepito Pignatelli. He was playing there for ten days with his Quintet. We had both been thrilled that he would be staying at my Villa of the Saracen at Bellosguardo.

“You know the last chord you played early this morning in 'When Sunny Gets Blue'? When you change suddenly from flat to sharp, from major to minor, it's bad, Man. I love it," said Chet as casually as if nothing had happened.

It was over. There was only the music, like the man says.

"You comin' tonight, kiddo?"

"Yes, Chet."

"See ya! Hey man I gotta go practice. Ciao."

Epilogue:

For Chet Baker, the only thing that counted was the music. He breathed it and lived for it alone. By his own terms of reference, jazz was a lifestyle outside of which he ceased to exist. Day after day, night after night, he played each solo as if it were the last. We all came because we loved his music and feared that it might be the last. More often than not, we also loved him. He reminded us that, sometimes, true creators are unreasonable, cruel, destructive and alone. They crave alone-ness. Only the music and the drugs are their constant companions. The former brings as much joy as the latter surrounds them with pain. Thus, they are irremediably alone.

All of those who fell under his spell will forever be haunted by that simple, velvet artistry that was as obvious as it was instinctive. On trumpet or with his own voice, Chet, in a long disconcerting, sexy wail, distilled the same pain we feel with a rare intuitive use of suggestion . . .things left unsaid and undone. Music was the only real world in which he moved. The rest, all the rest, was a nightmare from which he awoke. Each time he did so, he took us with him.

Chet died in Amsterdam fourteen years ago. His corpse lay crumpled and broken on the rainy street when the police arrived. They knew, as the music and jazz world did, that he was a spellbinding musician and . . . a junkie.

Did an overdose kill him at last, as he lay alone and abandoned? Perhaps unknown assailants had thrown him over the balcony of his hotel room? It is not unusual for mainlining junkies to owe big sums of money to drug dealers.

Did he jump? Did he fall off the railing while in a drugged stupor? Accidental death. Homicide. Suicide. Subconscious death wish – the Thanatos the ancient Greeks discoursed about?

It didn’t matter anymore.

"There was only the Music. There will always be the Music."

THE END

Notes from the writer.

All the events, as described, took place in the sixteen-century Villa of the Saracen, about sixteen years ago. Only the name of the narrator, Contessa Lucrezia von Remo has been changed. Readers will note that the writer’s alter ego is Lucrezia.

To hear his wonderful music go to: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=007P6bFgRCU