Month: July 2018

Tapscott Trio (July 5th, 2018, Columbia, MO)

Up to my ears in a project today, so not much to say other than my continued exploration of Horace Tapscott’s (and UGMAA’s–the Underground Musicians and Artists Association) music continues to bring me great pleasure.

Tapscott plays great on this live recording, as does bassist Robert Miranda, but percussionist Sonship Theus is the star, sustaining an almost ritualistic tension for the better part of the set. Thing about Tapscott: his comrades are purt-near always ready, willing, and able to wreck shop.

Tapscott isn’t present on alto saxophonist/ flautist Dadisi Komolafe’s Hassan’s Walk, but Komolafe is one of the most aggressive players to emerge from UGMMA, and the rhythm section is the same as above, and equally impressive. Though Komolafe does fine on Monk and Shorter covers, his own title tune lets him step all the way out, and the tone he establishes on the traditional “Calvary” lives up to the song’s title.

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLKEKKDPDJd8q-UVVaj0vC_GSkIhlbLVfu

Yep, this one is Black Panther-commissioned and Black Panther-sung, but the band arrangements and the group piano is Tapscott–enough to get him an FBI file.

Short-shrift Division:

I can only go with an album trailer here, but the energy and repetitions are so intense and even wild that, though it would drive most sane folks insane, it just might be my favorite jazz record of 2018. If you know Roscoe Mitchell’s Nonaah, imagine it ablaze.

Buzz Me, Baby (July 4th, 2018, Columbia, MO)

In the great George Jones documentary Still the Same Old Me, Johnny Cash, near tears, recalls raising a toast with Nick Lowe to The Possum: “To the best damn country singer in the world.” I get that feeling when I listen to Louis Jordan, as I did today while making tamales with Nicole. Jordan wasn’t exactly the best at anything, but his sly singing, ripping alto playing, sharp bandleading, and sterling songwriting and -picking touched almost everybody within earshot who was anybody in the next generation–by their own admission. Ray Charles (think of his boisterous version of Jordan’s “Let the Good Times Roll”), Sonny Rollins (think of Newk’s grabbing tone and mischievous wit), Bo Diddley (think of his “Say Man” series), and Leiber and Stoller (can you really imagine The Coasters’ 45 RPM comic slices of black life without Louis’ example?)–they were all touched. Further support for Jordan as a holy conduit from swing to rock and roll is that all roads to the matchless American landscape that flowed from Chuck Berry’s mind must travel through songs like “Ain’t Nobody Here But Us Chickens,” and that’s not even to mention Tympani 5 guitarist Carl Hogan’s riffwise influence on Berry. In short, this was patriotic listening today, and it wasn’t even that facile, as Louis still had a little toe inside the minstrel tent (listen to “What’s the Use of Getting Sober?”). He tears me up ’cause he had a vision that was fruitful beyond his own realization.

Short-shrift Division:

As long as Strut Records keeps sending me their subscription-only reissues, I’m gonna rep ’em. Vox kinda corny, rhythms and guitar not AT ALL.

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLXIsKbdpaw_1qd1FxSqNOqoFBr6SrGlBw

Aaron’s never been better than on these gospel classics, sharpened and deepened by Joe Henry’s production and studio aces, augmented by none other than Allen Toussaint’s subtle, elegant touch.

For the house 4th of July activity, we watched one of the great rock and roll movies of all-time: Luis Buñuel’s The Exterminating Angel. If you haven’t ever, you might do it now for resonance’s sake:

Are You Sure Outlaws Really Done It This Way? (July 3rd, 2018, Columbia, MO)

Some simple forays into the music today.

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLkkGYn98_Ax-nJuEwNAt7seGK2x4_AhnF

On a prestigious critical recommendation, I sampled Armadilloes & Outlaws, a new compilation surveying country’s “Roaring ’70s” and purporting (or seeming to purport) to represent the range of players involved. I am already well-versed in the stuff, but I’d heard there were surprises. There were a few good ones: a Jessie Colter tune I really dug, a new-to-me Tom T. Hall cautionary, an incandescent early version (I think–I have no notes) of “Dallas” by the Flatlanders, and Lou Ann Barton taking on an Irma Thomas classic fronting an early version of Stevie Ray’s Double Trouble. But. The rest of the solid tracks are totally predictable. The proto-outlaw Doug Sahm is unaccountably missing–his influence is too strong for him to be omitted, and there’s plenty cross-licensing power behind the collection. [CORRECTION: Sahm’s “Groover’s Paradise” (and a few others I didn’t hear yesterday, are included in the album but not available for streaming, for some reason. Those significantly upgrade the overall quality—but I still consider it an infield single, if you will.] And there is baaaaaad shit. David Allan Coe’s “I Still Sing the Old Songs” is unspeakable Confederate apologist nostalgia; the usually good for a laugh Bobby Bare and the overly vaunted Jerry Jeff Walker are avert-your-ears dated; and Michael Murphy should have just kept on ridin’ into the cosmos–out of earshot. I usually abjure the dis, but this compilation could have been leagues stronger, and more representative.

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLsPwHbdEe58KejkeWsTBhl01lTf10KtUL

I am reading Steven L. Isoardi’s outstanding overview of the South Central Los Angeles jazz scene and social environment surrounding the too-little-known giant Horace Tapscott, The Dark Tree; the title comes from one of Tapscott’s greatest compositions. I’m only a quarter in, but today I encountered a story of a bespectacled alto saxophonist who entered Tapscott’s circle, which was filled with fearsome players, and just cut heads. Jimmy Woods was the name, and agile, speedy, inventive lines were apparently his game. I look forward to more musical discoveries from Mr. Isoardi.

Self-Determination (July 2nd, 2018, Columbia, MO)

Just a day of powerful music.

Early, early morning: the great clarinetist John Carter and the unsung trumpeter Bobby Bradford make the greatest Ornette Coleman album not actually made by Ornette, with the criminally unsung bassist Tom Williamson keeping it anchored:

I think most folks think M.I.A. is over. Has been over. But on ‘phones, listening to Matangi, I think they’re wrong. I’m with her politics, and I appreciate the abrasive sexiness:

Afternoon: folks, Wynton Marsalis can play, teach, and converse. I’ve long resented his tight-ass views, but having seen him and the Lincoln Center jazz orchestra wail, I surrender. And this comp of live performances does the impossible: justifies the hoary white icons hornin’ in on the NOLA thang. Dylan and Clapton don’t bite it, Buffett doesn’t sound like a fuck, and Lovett actually survives a “Trouble Man” rip. James Taylor is still marked for death, and Natalie Merchant needs to just stop. NOLA trad jazz can redeem almost anyone:

Early evening: If you don’t know the great Johnny Thunders solo album So Alone, shame on yer ass. Besides featuring his inimitable one-trick guitar, it perfectly captures his matchless stray cat, streetwise, born to lose, girl-crazy, doomed persona. On Record Store Day this year, one of the few attractive items was a “alternative” version of So Alone. Sucker bait–for sure. Horrible title: So Alonesome. Dubious label name: Remarquable Records. But goddamit, they even had procured some alternate album art, and subbed “Dead or Alive” and T-Rex’s “The Wizard” into the 10-song running time. Verdict: by god, it’s a must for fans of the original, and any “new” together Thunders is essential subject matter for those who are hangin’ back, bored shitless.

Short-shrift Division:

Spa 700 (with Moor Mother): 700 Bliss and Moor Mother X Mental Jewelry: Crime Waves—Listen to your mother, come on! She knows what’s up…and what’s down:

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLCtVopB5yK8Q4qp5bdhWKEJXHn-kGB9U9

Ring The Alarm (June 26 – July 1)

Out in the real world, in real time, it was a terrible, terrible week. Maybe these years are like a bad boil that’s eventually gonna be lanced; maybe they’ll leave a nasty scar that’s never going away. As I told a friend, I’m a hair away from despair, but music, love, and liquor has seen me to this Sunday. As is my custom, here’s a Spotify playlist that contains the best tunes of the week, should you care to partake. I’m hoping that one day I’ll want to (be able to?) look back and see how I stayed sane.

Aaaaaand…this week’s awards!

Plucked from History’s Dustbin (best recent purchase of an old record): Blackfire, One Nation Under.

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLfkpqmIcJWVqGaEbmChhQ66MniNnKIyFR

Grower, Not a Shower (old record I already owned that’s risen in my esteem): Soft Machine: Third.

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL_SB5HhC_Aa4b5fyB1iNH-Av8eFpjQEj7

Encore, Encore! (album I played at least twice this week): Nidia, Nídia É Má, Nídia É Fudida

Through the Cracks (sweet record I forgot to write about): Spa 700 (with Moor Mother), 700 Bliss; Wynton Marsalis & Friends, United We Swing.

Sunday’s Children: The Mekons 77, John Coltrane.