connecting*the*dots

John Smith and I met last Friday afternoon, as I worked out of The Press (Wine Cafe) across the street from my home/office. We rapped about driving in NYC, women, music… dude was just real and at times, a riot.

I think I caught him in the above photo thinking about whether or not he could retain his manhood while drinking beer from a frosty glass. That entire conversation killed me, because as he vociferously defended the mechanics of the bottle and the presentation of “guy” it projected, he had a slice of lime swirling around in his beer bottle.

Heh.

Meeting cool locals like John isn’t the only new thing happening across the street. The spot has quickly become both my office of choice for calls & non-design intensive work (the WiFi connection is really strong) and my default lunch spot (Turkey Panini, chips and a coke, gracias). And while I wasn’t quite digging the music much before, the vibe has begun to shift a bit.

First of all, the live shows — what I’ve caught at least — have been damn good.

They had a solo, acoustic act a few weeks ago; the guy moved smoothly from Stevie Wonder to Mark Cohn to Neil Young and sounded amazing. Last week, I stumbled in on the Thursday night show and people were cuttin’ up the rug by the sofas. And this past Thursday, I swear the senior member of the jazz quartet couldn’t have been any older than 24… and their improv was as sick as their flow was tight.

Greensboro talent representing.

My only real complaint of the day to day experience — the CD rotation — has changed a bit as well. I just don’t know if Mike and Aaron know about it.

I’ve been slipping the staff mixed CD’s with jazz, hip-hop and electronica, shifting the vibe a bit from the afternoon elevator jazz we’ve had to endure this past month. The vibe is definitely still jazzy, but there’s now some freshness to the mix. I’m hoping that down the road, the guys invest in some form of a jukebox solution, something that customers can influence at no cost.

Until then, it’s all good.

Mike and Aaron opened up a few weeks back, after months of building and prepping the corner of MLK and Gorrel. I’ve wanted to write about them since, as their general manager, Stephanie, fed Lucy treats each day as we passed on our walk, but I’ve been way too busy.

Yep, blogger bought off by dot biscuits.

But with free WiFi, comfy couches, good and decent-priced food, a relaxed atmosphere and local artwork adorning the walls, you really can’t go wrong spending time over there. I’m not a wine fan, but from what Angela tells me, they have a choice selection. And oh yeah, the Ganache Chocolate Cake is ridiculous.

My only criticism so far (they got rid of the canned fresh fruit) is the background music rotation; it leans too much in the Kenny G direction for my tastes (I’m much more of a Mingus, Miles, Thelonious kinda guy). Thursday night is live Jazz night, so we’ll see where this evolves…

Check ‘em out and wish them well, as they’re Southside’s first foray into the restaurant / bar / nightclub world.

Where the magic happens

Aaron on opening day

My third office (counting The Green Bean)

Artist: Gil Scott-Heron
Song: Whitey On The Moon

==========

A rat done bit my sister Nell (with Whitey on the moon)
Her face and arms began to swell (and Whitey’s on the moon)
I can’t pay no doctor bills (but Whitey’s on the moon)
Ten years from now I’ll be payin’ still (while Whitey’s on the moon)
You know, the man jus’ upped my rent las’ night (’cause Whitey’s on the moon)
No hot water, no toilets, no lights (but Whitey’s on the moon)
I wonder why he’s uppin’ me? (’cause Whitey’s on the moon?)
I wuz already givin’ him fifty a week (with Whitey on the moon)
Taxes takin’ my whole damn check,
The junkies makin’ me a nervous wreck,
The price of food is goin’ up,
An’ as if all that crap wuzn’t enough:
A rat done bit my sister Nell (with Whitey on the moon)
Her face an’ arm began to swell (and Whitey’s on the moon)
Was all that money I made las’ year (for Whitey on the moon?)
How come there ain’t no money here? (Hmm! Whitey’s on the moon)
Y’know I jus’ ’bout had my fill (of Whitey on the moon)
I think I’ll sen’ these doctor bills, Airmail special… to Whitey on the moon

Cephas & Wiggins rocked the stage last Saturday afternoon, bringing some good ol’ Piedmont Blues to the hills of Virginia:

Just 10 minutes later, Corey Harris and the 5×5 Band busted out some reggae, kicking the vibe of the festival up a notch or two.

Last September, I happened upon Michal Levy’s brilliant computer animation of the Coltrane classic, Giant Steps. After reading John Amato’s latest musical post on John Coltrane, I figured John and his audience would dig it. Thanks for the h/t, John.

Now, if you’re truly a political head, yet only a casual a fan of jazz, I’d be remiss if I didn’t point you over to the life work of Charles Mingus. The man lived life on the edge, spoke from the heart and translated his political perspective into complex compositions and straightforward lyrics that would make even the most polished, political pundit take notes.

Check out this quote from a review of the Mingus Big Band release of Blues & Politics:

…Mingus’ song titles are also fascinating because they are so suggestive — how does the Haitian revolution or the rise and decline of man (”Pithecanthropus Erectus“) sound? The titles make you think and pay attention to the music as it is played — this is what Mingus desired most as a performer. Throughout his career he sought a conscientious audience working with him to bring meaning to the music. Reprinted within the liner notes of Blues & Politics is Mingus’ untitled prose poem about pledging allegiance to the American flag as well as the lyrics to “Oh Lord, Don’t Let Them Drop That Atomic Bomb on Me”, “Don’t Let It Happen Here”, and “Freedom”. These pieces reflect Mingus’ concern with justice for all Americans across racial lines…

Pure genius.

So what do you do when the grind of the city commute smacks you in the face? You find a comfy spot in the back of The Jazz Gallery and let Steve Coleman’s workshop grab ahold of your soul.

Coleman wasn’t on my radar before tonight, but leave it to Jonathan to introduce me to a hot act in the Jazz scene. This guy is dope. He’s currently playing a 1-1-2-2-2-1-1 then a 1-1-2-2-2-1-1-1-1 then a 1-1-2-2-2-1-1-1-1… 1-1 beat, getting his drummer up on cue to the progressive, deterioration of the riff. Man, this is a workshop. Sue Mingus runs a “workshop” with the B and C players of the Big Band and Orchestra, occationally practicing new compositions. I love you Sue, but that’s not a workshop. That’s income.

Steve just invited audience members to join him on stage and work out the riff. Now with two women on the mic and the drummer carrying the beat, he gets abstract off the beat — like a launch point of a ramp built in progressive takes.

Two boards added, a half peeled away, two and a half stiched on, pause for a second, add three and gone!…

Now an audience member is on the piano, riffing to the progressive beat, Coleman standing back, checking out the take… and the first woman on the mic scatting… add Coleman…

Coleman’s not only brilliant, he has the patience and explanatory skills of a teacher.

Alright, now he’s dropping the improv down an octive and slowing down the tempo, mixing up the original riff into more paused flashes of laddders. Live blogging a jazz show… if I could visually describe what I’m hearing, well, imagine it to be something like this.

Dope!

The improv of jazz blows me away, especially the type that occurs across a large group of musicians as with Mingus Big Band. Factor in the unique, layered compositions of a Charles Mingus, with his political lyrics of the 50’s and 60’s, and you have a textured mix of jazz structure and improv with the undeniable taste of blues soul.

Great stuff, indeed.

Unfortunately for me, my age precluded me from catching live shows of the legendary jazz musicians and quintets, but thankfully, I’ve been lucky enough to catch a few of the legendary blues acts over the years. So as much as Son Seals and Robert Cray gave amazing performances — each man rocking the stage with a unique six-string sound, pouring their scarred, shaped souls into their sets — I’ve got to tell you, experiencing Buddy Guy live at the Greensboro War Memorial Auditorium last night… well, he took my appreciation of the blues to an entirely new level.

The man is pushing 70, yet he rocked the stage as if he were 30, applying an undeniable pace to his presentation to the audience. Buddy started off with his guitar singing at a murmur, which slowly quieted the warmed up, rambunctious crowd over a a ten minute period. Never changing strategy and displaying the utmost confidence in his approach, once he had the ears and souls of the crowd in tune with him, he moved right into a heavy jam to lift the spirit of the audience beyond where we were to begin the set. The temper of the packed house became something akin to a Sunday sermon when a testify! was shouted out to my left.

The preacher preached on…

The rapport he displayed with his band — jamming back and forth with the back-up guitarist, pianist and saxophonist — brought my appreciation of improv to the forefront of my attention. By the time Buddy and the band hit, I’ve Got Dreams to Remember, from his latest album, I was already kicked back in my seat with my arm locked around Angela, breathing in the gift of this legend as he crept into my psyche with his janitor’s key in hand, unlocking the guarded door to my soul.

Words can’t do him justice.

damn! straight…
away
the wind blew in today
weeks past
jazz…
blues…
the funk
y
the skunk
of the streets
ripped out between
heartbeats
the skipped hearts
beat the shit out of me
you still think indivisible is them with us?
when they pry away your child to get on the bus
don’t make a fuss.
you’ve a bunch of sand people left to plug
you’ve a bunch of poor, old, black people left to shrug
away
into the streets of decay…
today
yesterday
cronyism in full effect
a flag of death on the errect
pole…
are eyes
blind to the killers?
deaf to the ’cause?…
i want you!
american people, where you at?
when enough is a black cat?
when enough is a black cat?
deja vu
do you in your home?
with two shots straight to the dome?
no one at home?
get behind the wheel
the cause?
we need
we demand
we take
leadership repeal!

ah yeah
feel that dive
straight back into the hive
alive with a high five
line language
with spaces in between
the mean whole
the slick sixteenth
the ebony and ivory dream
twinkle fingers on the horizontal ladder
making the bassist groan deeper
making the drummers beat badder
coming together like siameese twins
dropping out like a catheter
straight to the bassline
fine
wine
got
nothing
on
this
rhyme
head bouncing to the riff
as the bridge is about to be built
twisted
encrypted
lifted
clipped

A frenetic interpretation at the fez

So I was hanging out with my bud JD last night at the Fez, checking out Mingus Big Band as I usually do every other Thursday night, when news through the player’s grapevine hit me like a left hook. Smalls is closing saturday night. Smalls!

I’ve been going to this club for almost 7 years now. They’re the most lax Jazz club in the city; it’s BYOB to stock in their own fridge, with jamming until 10am for $10, a cozy environment with plush velore seats… man. A damn shame. I talked to one of the regular musicians last night and he was bummed, but he turned it around by saying:

Hey, that’s what clubs do. They close.

I guess if he can look at it like that, I should be able to as well… but still, NYC is losing a great, intimate venue for up and coming Jazz acts and established ones alike.

i got up in the morning
after a long nights fight
with the back of my mind
the delusional and mystified heights
of sane desires
and excite
meant that i had to move on to another
dream
another scheme
shit, there’s just no way i’ll stick to this routine
when up becomes down
and left becomes right
you gotta turn things around
and make shit tight
so where do i start to unwind this mess?
like a nasty piano bit played by john tesch
i’ll just wipe the slate clean
do what i say
say what i mean
but not like i do all the time
twisted and interpreted through a rhyme
but through my actions in the real
world events make more of an impact
to one’s soul
it’s time to move my ass
make my shit whole