Phineas’ Hour (June 2nd, 2018, Columbia, MO)

I’ve spent the afternoon luxuriating in the music of two brothers from Whiteville, Tennessee (and always associated with Memphis), pianist Phineas (pronounced FINE-us by his family but eventurally FIN-ee-us by the artist) Newborn Jr. and guitarist Calvin Newborn. The elder brother’s command, invention, precision, and speed on the 88s was such that critics still battle, as they’ve done with other keyboardists, over whether he was a purveyor of mere (mere?) technical facility or an artist of abiding soulfulness–the latter requiring a treacherous, possibly arrogant and presumptuous leap for the listener to make. As much as I’ve listened to music, I’m not at all convinced that I listener can accurately gauge “soul”; I mean, I can say for certain how it makes me feel, but if soulfulness exists in the musician as he plays, how would I ever know, and precisely what aspects of the recorded evidence indicates whether it did or not–and why do they? As for the younger Newborn, one has to dig a little to hear him in his exuberant youth, then in his prime, as he was usually an accompanist, and versatile and flexible enough to thrive in any setting, especially (maybe) when he was asked to play a discreet musical role. Only some thirty years after the advent of his recording career did he become a solo artist, and by then his best work may well have been past him. Suffice it all to say that he was one of jazz’s most underrated guitarists of the ’50s and ’60s.

You can think about both questions–of Phineas’ soulfulness and Calvin’s unjust obscurity–on the records I listened to today, combined on one CD by Jazz Beat Records: 1956’s Here is Phineas–The Piano Artistry of Phineas Newborn, on Atlantic, and 1958’s Fabulous Phineas, on RCA. The brothers play together on both releases (more so on the later) and furnish plenty of evidence to support my claims that the feeling, knowledge, and ideas behind Phineas’ playing = soulfulness, and that Calvin, coming out of Memphis blues and southwest jazz, was a force to be compared with the likes of Pee Wee Crayton and even (lightly, hoss) Wes Montgomery–particularly in his ability, honed through sibling battles and the oversight of their drummer father, to stick with Phineas even at his fleetest and highest.

As a bonus, enjoy the masterly rhythm sections on both, the Atlantic session featuring Kenny “Klook” Clarke and Oscar Pettiford, the RCA Denzil Best and the Newborns’ childhood friend and long-time musical cohort, George Joyner (each pairing, drums and bass, respectively).

Short-shrift Division:

I mentioned this a few pieces back, but if you love the above, you’ll want to try this very, very, very unsung set from the same basic period, as it features a mess of smokin’ Memphis players, most of him are from the Newborns’ cohort.

Up for some very entertaining and enlightening music lit you’ll have to search, then pay for?

I suggest this. (Price range on three used copies currently for sale on Amazon: $125-150–I didn’t pay half that much, so you might set your bobber out on the pond, if you know what I mean.)

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‘xcuse me while I plagiarize my Goodreads review:

This hard-to-find book is a classic of Memphis culture. Newborn and his brother Phineas Jr., both skilled multi-instrumentalists–the latter one of the greatest jazz pianists of the latter half of the 20th century–rise up through the Memphis’ rich musical soul, then ride a rollercoaster through regional and national tours, professional recording sessions, the Armed Forces, night life in New York and Los Angeles, and struggles with substance abuse.

Note: the book is not particularly professionally assembled. Misspellings and typos abound, a chapter number is skipped, three blank pages leave the reader in a state of mystery, the index is in alphabetical order by first letter ONLY, and the photo section is slopped together at the very end of the book. HOWEVER, it is also chock-full of great stories, the author’s mischievous wit, insights into mid-century African-American life in a very complicated city, charming candor, delightful idiosyncrasies of narrative…and the slopped-together photos are GREAT. I paid a pretty penny for a copy, and I do not regret it in the least (though I would like to know if EVERY copy has the blank pages).

WIDE AWAKE!: 85 Decent Records from This Trying Year–an Update (June 1st, 2018, Columbia, MO)

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Time for my end-of-the-month update of records that fly in the face of the commonly heard assumption/argument/untested hypothesis that all the good music’s already been made. Based solely on what I’ve heard–much, but I know ears that have taken in far more–this calendar year’s produced 85 records I’d give a B+ or better to (I’m a teacher–as much as I think grades are institutionalized violence), it’s what I’ve got. By the way, they are ranked in order of most powerful in their effects upon me to least–but even #76 reaches me.

It’s a damn great year, in particular, for creative, outspoken women (no surprise), improvising musicians, artists of color and guitar bands (how ’bout that?). And, as always, plenty of old digs are proving they still got game–including one of the very oldest, and very best.

You’ve got the power at your fingertips to stream any of these, so dig in; do what I made my students do, and just pick 5-10 you’ve never heard of and try two-three tracks from each. But do keep an open mind, and remember what millennium you’re traipsing around in.

  1. Tracy Thorn: Record
  2. Nona Hendryx and Gary Lucas: The World of Captain Beefheart
  3. Berry: Everything, Compromised
  4. CupcaKe: Ephorize
  5. Mary Gauthier and Songwriting with Soldier: Rifles and Rosary Beads
  6. Sons of Kemet: Your Queen is a Reptile
  7. Janelle Monae: Dirty Computer
  8. Bettye LaVette: Things Have Changed
  9. Joe McPhee: Imaginary Numbers
  10. Chloe x Halle: The Kids are Alright
  11. Superchunk: What A Time to Be Alive
  12. Young Fathers: Cocoa Sugar
  13. Jinx Lennon: Grow a Pair
  14. Parquet Courts: Wide Awake!
  15. Sly & Robbie and Nils Petter Molvaer: Nordub
  16. Orquesta Akokan: Orquesta Akokan
  17. Sidi Toure: Toubalbero
  18. Quelle Chris & Jean Grae: Everything’s Fine
  19. Grupo Mono Blanco: ¡Fandango! Sones Jarochos from Veracruz
  20. John Prine: The Tree of Forgiveness
  21. Evan Parker, Barry Guy, and Paul Lytton: Music for David Mossman
  22. Jonghyun: Poet / Artist
  23. Halu Mergia: Lalu Balu
  24. Jeffrey Lewis: Works by Tuli Kupferberg
  25. Willie Nelson: Last Man Standing
  26. Bombino: Deran
  27. Idris Ackamoor & The Pyramids: An Angel Fell
  28. Rapsody: Laila’s Wisdom
  29. Courtney Barnett: Tell Me How You Really Feel
  30. Peter Brotzmann and Fred Lonberg-Holm: Ouroboros
  31. Toni Braxton: Sex & Cigarettes
  32. Car Seat Headrest: Twin Fantasy
  33. Salim Washington: Dogon Revisited
  34. Angelika Niescier: The Berlin Concert
  35. Charge It to The Game: House with a Pool
  36. JPEGMAFIA: Veteran
  37. Various Artists: Girls Just Wanna Have Fun…and Rights!!!
  38. Wussy: What Heaven is Like
  39. No Age: Snares Like a Haircut
  40. Marc Sinan & Oğuz Büyükberber: White
  41. Meshell Ndegeocello: Ventriloquism
  42. Cardi B: Invasion of Privacy
  43. Shopping: The Official Body
  44. The Thing: Again
  45. Ebo Taylor: Yen Ara
  46. Alice Bag: Blue Print
  47. Dana Murray: Negro Manifesto
  48. David Murray (featuring Saul Williams): Blues for Memo
  49. Pusha T: Daytona
  50. Shame: Songs of Praise
  51. Henry Threadgill: Dirt..and More Dirt
  52. Hot Snakes: Jericho Sirens
  53. Ceramic Dog: YRU Still Here?
  54. Van Morrison & Joey DeFrancesco: You’re Driving Me Crazy
  55. Various Artists/Sahel Sounds: Field Recordings
  56. Kendrick Lamar, et al: Black Panther—Music from and Inspired by the Film
  57. MC Paul Barman: Echo Chamber
  58. Kris Davis and Craig Taborn: Octopus
  59. Tal National: Tantabara
  60. Rodrigo Amado (with Joe McPhee): History of Nothing
  61. Rich Krueger: Life Ain’t That Long
  62. MAST: Thelonious Sphere Monk
  63. Tallawit Timbouctou: Takamba WhatsApp 2018
  64. Amy Rigby: The Old Guys
  65. Migos: Culture II
  66. Parliament: Medicaid Fraud Dogg
  67. Apolo: Live in Stockholm
  68. Yo La Tengo: There’s a Riot Goin’ On
  69. The Del McCoury Band: Del McCoury Still Sings Bluegrass
  70. Superorganism: Superorganism
  71. Laurie Anderson and Kronos Quartet: Landfall
  72. Sleep: The Sciences
  73. Ibibio Sound Machine: Eyio
  74. Various Artists: I Only Listen to The Mountain Goats
  75. Afternoon Freak: The Blind Strut
  76. Princess Nokia: A Girl Cried Red

OLD MUSIC NICELY REPACKAGED

  1. Sonny Rollins: Way Out West (Deluxe Reissue)
  2. Neil Young: Roxy—Tonight’s the Night
  3. Gary Stewart: “Baby I Need Your Loving” / “Yester-Me, Yester-You, Yester-Day”
  4. The Revelators: In which the Revelators perform live renditions of selections from the Billy Childish songbook
  5. Against All Logic: 2012-2017
  6. Entourage: Ceremony of Dreams—Studio Sessions & Outtakes 1972-1977
  7. Camarao: The Imaginary Soundtrack to a Brazilian Western Movie
  8. Various Artists: Africa Scream Contest, Volume 2
  9. Wussy: Getting Better

Short-shrift Division:

Nicole and sailed home from our vacation on the vibraphone mastery of the great Milt Jackson. I put five albums together on a playlist, but these two made leaving Excelsior Springs a shade less painless:

Canasta Soundtracks (May 31st, 2018, Excelsior Springs, MO)

Little to say other than, to my ear, we chose well today when needing some music behind our morning reading, our multiple hands of Canasta, and our lollygagging around during our final vacation day at the historic (and inexpensive) Elms Hotel.

Morning: I told Nicole she could pick any great album ever released and I could probably find it and stream it from my phone. Her response?

“Too much pressure! You always do this to me when I’m trying to practice my Spanish!”

“Yeah, but you always wanna be asked before I play something!”

“Dammit, you’re right–something Colombian, then–”

Afternoon: we decided to resume our Canastathon. I had briefly assumed a lead, but, partially due to my enthusiasm for playing wild cards and her tendency to hold them back, she has dominated throughout. This time, she had an immediate answer when I made a soundtrack request:

I piggybacked on that with this:

Evening: after some swimming and poolside lounging and reading, we returned to the room for a maple syrup Old Fashioned (her) and a Main Root ginger beer and bourbon (me), and four hands of Canasta. Nicole’s defenses were weakened so I took matters into my own hands with possibly the greatest record of all-time, and two reasonable follow-ups:

Unfortunately, the above didn’t help my luck (I’m 2000 points down), but they certainly established a mood.

Short-shrift Division:

Fiercest desert blues in awhile.

I Lied: Musical Morning at The Elms (May 29th, 2018, Excelsior Springs, MO)

I thought I was gonna take a few days off, as we are ensconced at the above OG resort hotel, and yesterday’s post wasn’t shit other than celebrating a scary narcissistic value-free asshole’s political meltdown–here’s the moment I learned Missouri’s “governor” resigned:

But turns out you can’t stop the music. Imagine that! We’ve had a wonderful morning playing Canasta (learn it, if you knows what’s good for ya) and being centered by a) an Ethiopian nun who’s piano playing searches into the most uncertain corners of your being…

…and a long-gone pianistic genius from Memphis who played splintered shards of light and rapid-fire sparks of rhythm:

Also, in the early morning hours (we party late and rise early), I ate up brother Calvin Newborn’s hard-to-find memoir of growing up Memphis and living with and observing Brother Phineas. Seek it out if you wanna be electrofied by a mid-20th century account of being black and mid-South.

Short-shrift Division:

We also listened to a dude named Charlie Parker (35 minutes away from the city where he caught fire) while Nicole dealt caliente upon me as we played cards (3180 – 2650).

“Goodbye, Baby!” (May 28th, 2018, Elms Hotel, Excelsior Springs, MO)

I’m takin’ a vacation ’til Saturday. Right now I’m sitting in an historic hotel, with my lady and a glass of Four Roses, celebrating the fall of a state politician who redefined the word “creep”–and that doesn’t even count the BDSM.

Rock on, readers! We’ll see if I can be dormant for the rest of the week!

Update: We did listen to music during our travels and after our arrival. A trip to Brazil to revisit one of the greatest post-Tropicalia ever waxed–play it if you don’t believe me:

And a couple trips to Addis Ababa to sip at the deep, dark, and spiritually refreshing well of Ethiopian jazz:

Shots! (May 27-28, 2018, Columbia, MO)

For the past three days, I’ve had my nose in Neil Young’s 2013 memoir/journal/autobiography. I wish I’d read it when it emerged, but when you read backwards and forwards like I do, you have to leave some stuff on the shelf. On Saturday and Sunday, I repeat-played Neil’s still-classic first-decade sum-up Decade as a soundtrack (no wonder the studio version of “Like a Hurricane” sounds a little stiff and shaky–it’s the goddam run-through!). Today, I created an Apple Music playlist called Decades–First Extension, which picks up some goodies the original comp missed and moves Young’s musical story into the mid-Nineties. It was Memorial Day, and though I created it without the intention, the playlist made me think about it plenty: “Shots,” “Powderfinger,” “Cortez the Killer,” “Captain Kennedy”–those are just a few. Also, the playlist spans several hours, during no second of which was I bored (I was reading, too, of course, but I would have skipped a track). As as he testifies repeatedly in Waging Heavy Peace, Neil’s never needed a push to try new things (musical or otherwise), and though his patented wailing stomp-rock and his strangely otherworldly acoustic meditations will always ring my bell, his experiments from “Broken Arrow” to “Transformer Man” keep my attention as well–maybe it’s his way with the ol’ hummables.

So that’s the listening–what about the book? Should you read it? I’m “reviewing” it five years, several albums, and a third divorce later, but if you’re interested, three things:

1) It takes awhile to shake loose. I was kind of annoyed across the first 100 pages at his rich-guy tendency to talk on and on and on about all his stuff. The dude’s happily acquisitive, and he says straight-out that he loves capitalism, but that shit’s boring as hell to me. Fortunately, though, the book recovers.

2) How does it recover? Through Young’s committed, droll, and reflective treatment of some engaging other themes: loyalty, family, resiliency (the health issues!), technology, hedonism, the creative process, individualism, and–no surprise, but voiced in some surprising ways–primitivism. I must confess to have wanted to skim the sections on Lincvolt (electric cars), PureTone/Pono (audio files), and his film adventures, but one can’t help but admire his enthusiastic inventiveness and restless mind. Plus, he seldom lingers long on those topics (he circles back intermittently) and his self-effacement is redeeming.

3) Structurally, Young goes where he wants, when he wants to. Can you imagine that? How very Neil of him! Not only does he jump with little transition from topic to topic, from theme to theme, from musical phase to musical phase, from life event to life event, he doesn’t arrange those spheres chronologically. But it doesn’t matter. As I’ve said, he keeps chapters brief, and his matter-of-factness helps the reader stay organized. But ignore what I said; the late great David Carr wrote of it that it’s “a journal of self-appraisal,” and that it is. The form and style, I think, are also an expression of Young’s attraction to a unique primitive aesthetic, and it works for me here as a reader as “Cinnamon Girl” works for me as a listener.

Check it out.

Short-shrift Division:

Serengeti: Dennehy–The sui generis Chicago rapper’s now-decade-old record really holds up. And it’s not just the halo effect provided by this timeless classic:

Charge It To The Game: May 20-26

‘Twas a week of even less structure than last, as my wife Nicole, also a teacher, was loosed upon the summer months. I continued to find it difficult to get focused on writing (I clearly need my back to the wall once a day), but plenty of music flowed within the walls of our home. To wit:

The weekly “Living to Listen Awards” for high-impact records!

Plucked from History’s Dustbin (best recent purchase of an old record): Jewels and Binoculars, Floater (multi-reed master Michael Moore’s project designed specifically to interpret Dylan on a jazz tip–and does it work!). This ain’t that album, but if you’re skeptical?

Grower, Not a Shower (old record I already owned that’s risen in my esteem): see immediately below–a double-winner this week.

Encore, Encore! (album I played at least twice this week): Grant Green’s The Complete Quartets with Sonny Clark. Lots of rockers don’t dig jazz guitar, but Green’s bluesy intensity might cut through that prejudice. Plus: ya got Clark on the 88s.

Through the Cracks (sweet record I forgot to write about): Pusha T’s Daytona. No MC alive is better. As they say, he could recite the phone book. An unfortunate man is allied with him on this project–I will continue to debate with myself as I hope you will whether it’s acceptable to encourage such a project. Also, Grupo Mono Blanco’s ¡Fandango! Sones Jarochos from Veracruz, from Smithsonian Folkways but don’t let that stop you from swaying to it.

Sunday’s Children / Today’s Sounds: The Del McCoury Band’s Del McCoury Still Sings Bluegrass.

Another Tequila Slumrise (May 25th, 2018, Columbia, MO)

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Picture a married pair of teachers, spending one of their first ed-genda-free days together after getting in a good, long walk and some reading during the early morning hours, standing in their kitchen examining the unfolding late morning and early afternoon as their shared oyster and wondering, “What to do?” No papers to grade. No tutorial appointments to keep. No student teachers to observe. No students whose grades need tracking. What to do when one (make that two) can do anything? One teacher catches a familiar cocking of his partner’s eye, and translates it–after many years, mere twitches can communicate paragraphs.

“Huevos rancheros and margaritas!”

The pair hightail it to their favorite joint. The huevos are great; the margaritas are so good, they shrug and admit, like lush-life Ernie Bankses, “Let’s drink two.” And a shot for good measure when they get home.

Two hours later, they awaken to slum the rest of the day away–well, their slumming might be considered more industrious than most folks’, but slumming is the name of the pace and the character of the choices, especially the musical ones. He browses the stacks for something that perfectly suits their pleasantly bleary mood, something that signifies creeping into consciousness, something that dawns slowly and then breaks brilliantly, something they both dig the most (and that they were digging the day before).

Ah. Yes.

After a few more tracks from the CD–“Can You Get to That?” “Me and My Folks, You and Your Folks,” “Super Stupid”–it occurs to him that the darkness of the, um, analysis is outracing the darkness of the actual day. There is a chill that blows in off of this Funkadelic album that might well suit the state of the nation, but does not match the state of the home. Also, a paranoia pervades Mr. Clinton’s sentiments, perhaps; is this what the couple need as they enjoy some well-earned freedom?

Warmth! Fondness! Good cheer! A seductive drawl, perchance? That’s right: he doesn’t even have to choose, he doesn’t even have to ask her if it’ll do. That quartet of requirements just adds up to an inevitability.

The intoning of Mr. Frizzell fits the cut of their slumming like a perfectly worn pair of sweatpants from ’05, and the pair just let Lefty roll from their, with a softly swinging closer a couple of hours down the night.

Short-shrift Division:

George Clinton & Parliament: Medicaid Fraud Dogg–I didn’t quite complete the near two-hour journey of what might well be the final Uncle Jam record, but–and I say this to comfort the cognoscenti–a weird journey it is. It’s damn near ambient funk, it’s so hushed, but it flows like lava, it’s offers a kind of concept that adepts will recognize (“One nation / Under sedation”), it hides munchkins in its grooves, it guest-stars an intriguing, speech-impeded pimp (Mudbone Cooper?), and, yes, it does indeed feature the grizzled Dr. Funkenstein hoarsing around funkily with his considerable accumulated wisdom. I am not sure how many times I (or you) may listen to it, but I can testify that it is interesting. And did I mention it flows like lava?

 

They’re/he’s back.

 

 

 

 

 

A Perfect Day, Serious (May 24th, 2018th, MU Recreation Trail)

On the way to and back from our five-mile walk. Shit just gets better; Hendryx and Lucas GET the source material, which shines better than ever:

While writing blog post yesterday. Dallas – Fort Worth brilliance/ give the man props while he’s living: Dennis Gonzalez!

While waiting for my beloved to return from a massage–’68-’70, some very great / fucked years, like our own.

Thank whatever we weren’t there. We might not be here.

On the way to the oh-so-summery ice cream joint. Atlantic, Berns-Wexler, the King of Rock ‘n’ Soul:

School’s Out, With Uncle Jam (May 23rd, 2018, Columbia, MO)

George

Today was Nicole’s first day of “summer”–her first day of liberation from her honorable, rewarding, fun, but demanding public school job as a special education liaison between Columbia’s Battle High School and the district’s career center. I have three jobs, but I’m very part-time, very (and somewhat uncomfortably) retired, and my “year” ended on May 3–so I’d had three weeks of slovenliness, sweats, and sounds cranked to seven (I can no longer go to eleven), and it was only fair that I provide her with the music she needed.

“So…we’ve got the afternoon. What would you like to hear, my dear?” I proffered, not intending that quite inappropriate Marvin Gaye pun, over a Main Root ginger beer and Four Roses.

“Hmmm…I don’t know…you suggest something.”

See, this is a frequent dynamic in the Overeem home. I respect it, but it’s difficult to negotiate. I can awaken at 4:30 a.m., stretch, and put on some Charles Gayle at relatively high volume, then proceed with getting back under the covers, reading the news, wishing folks a happy birthday on Facebook, and more lazy awakening rituals. Like most sane and well-adjusted people who are in a relationship, Nicole likes to be consulted before I put anything on the box, but frequently she doesn’t have anything in mind–we do have 10,000 records in the house, supplemented by the full range of streaming services–and asks me for suggestions. At that point, I will default to her pleasure points (Sister Rosetta, ’50s Chicago-style electric blues, Dinah Washington, New Orleans r&b, Dead Moon/Pierced Arrows), and sometimes she’ll just give me a genre or say, “Something not too annoying.” I usually do OK within those boundaries, but should I, after several months of compliance, pick out some music without prior consultation, she will detect the transgression–even if I pick, oh, the irresistible Al Green’s Call Me.

This being a very liberated space for her, I suggested carefully. I knew she wanted something great, something not whiny, something with some power, humor, and rhythm, something to get into (yesterday) an origami groove to.

“George Clinton?”

“Bring it on.”

This entry is short and sweet, but I will close with a playlist that replicates what we jammed to for an hour or so while she folded and kept an eye on her “crockpot lasagna.” The origami, the food, and the vibe? All good. Liberating, shall we say?

There are more great songs from Clinton’s Capitol solos than the ones on the playlist–but I had to keep the groove movin’, and they’d have caused it to stutter a bit. Listening again for the umpteenth time in thirty-plus years, I am moved by Uncle Jam’s commitment not just to The One but also to GUITARS–and I wish I’d understood that “Nubian Nut” was a Fela tribute back in ’83 when I bought “You Shouldn’t-Nuff Bit Fish.”

Short-shrift Division:

Marc Sinan & Oğuz Büyükberber: White–Trouble with Apple Music is it doesn’t supply much artist or recording information.