“Last Splash” at 20: The Breeders Ride Again

Original cover of “Last Splash”, 1993.

Full disclosure: From a personal and professional perspective, there is no way to overestimate the significance of the Breeders in my own life and career. If music is a drug, and there have been studies suggesting that the two affects part of the brain in similar ways, then the Breeders were my marijuana, my gateway drug—at least, to the circles in which they ran and rotated. As such, I was thrilled to hear that the original lineup—Kim and Kelley Deal, Josephine Wiggs and Jim McPherson—was reuniting this year to tour in support of the 20^th anniversary of their most well-known album, 1993’s Last Splash (4AD/Elektra).

The “classic” lineup. Front: Jim McPherson and Josephine Wiggs. Back: Kelley and Kim Deal.

The album, which was a touchstone of the “alternative rock” scene of that era, has been re-released in stunning new form by 4AD’s Vaughan Oliver, who’s been established as a master of album cover design and packaging for a quarter-century. The new “LSXX” version contains 46 tracks, spread across three CDs for a very reasonable price of $23; the same material is also available on a sumptuous seven-LP box set for $90—worth every penny for a serious fan. Both versions of the box set contain not only the entire original Last Splash album, but other key documents from that time, including: the full 16-track Stockholm concert that was previously only available in truncated form through the Breeders Digest fan club; 14 tracks recorded in settings ranging from demos and BBC/Peel sessions to guest appearances on compilations like the epochal No Alternative; and all four of the four-song EPs that came immediately before and after the album—1992’s Safari and 1994’s Head To Toe, in addition to the singles for “Cannonball” and “Divine Hammer”. There’s also a 24-page booklet.

Last Splash LSXX

LSXX, interior…

At this writing, the box-set is in pre-order; the CDs start shipping on May 14, but the vinyl doesn’t go out until June/July. For me, as a longtime fan who’s not gotten my copy yet—although “fan” seems imprecise; the old wrestling term “mark” seems more appropriate—just reading through the tracklist brings back fond memories of not only the music itself, but of the often extreme lengths I once went to in order to obtain this material in the good ol’ days before the Internet, before e-commerce, eBay, Amazon and automated shipping.

For me, a Breeders run usually meant a trip to historic Five Points in Jacksonville, the longtime hub of my city’s alternative/indie scene before the action began diversifying into downtown and Springfield while crossing over into other genres. Last Splash was a hit, so it wasn’t necessary to hit up spots like Now Hear This!, since it could be had at the mall, but I got it from there anyway; it was my first trip to that neighborhood, and I also bought the excellent Copacetic album by Velocity Girl that day, starting a relationship with the area (where I now live) that will always persist in some form or another.

Now, getting hold of the EPs was a chore involving phone calls, special orders and the kind of research I only put now into corrupt politicians or would-be business partners. In the ‘90s, my resource for this stuff was a place called the Theory Shop, on Park St. It was owned by the Faircloth sisters; they also owned the legendary Beaches club Einstein-A-Go-Go, where many of the era’s top alternative bands performed and where a whole generation of artists, musicians, writers, fans and entrepreneurs first met each other, slowly knitting a social fabric that now stretches across most of this country. (A lot of those shows were taped, but sadly I’ve never heard any of it; it probably comprises an indispensable auditory document, and hopefully it sees light someday.) They were geniuses for special orders; if they didn’t have it, they could get almost anything, and usually for far less than one was willing to pay. They had the music, and certain curios that are now almost impossible to find: autographed posters, signed Breeders tube socks, even promo copies of the album on green vinyl.

The 1990s were an especially explosive time in the cultural development of a nation that is always pushing hard toward the future, and a big part of that era was what was then called “alternative music”. The term has fallen out of favor now, even retrospectively, as that music’s pervasive impact ultimately overwhelmed whatever outsider pretentions once existed. But, at the time, it was the perfect description not only of the actual music itself, but also of the intent that drove the many artists, producers, record executives, journalists and fans who were involved in its production and proliferation, starting with the man who was, for a time, at the center of the entire music world: the late, great Kurt Cobain. Had he not existed, a significant portion of the last 20 years of music history would quite possibly have never happened, and that fact is of special relevance in regard to the subject at hand.

Last Splash was officially released on August 31, 1993, but audiences were already primed, myself included. I was 15 back then. I was mostly into jazz and rap music; my tastes in rock and roll at that time were strictly limited to AC/DC, Queen, Hendrix and Guns and Roses; I recall enjoying GNR’s Use Your Illusion double-album, which I bought on cassette, way more than any decent human being should, absurdly, decadently, obnoxiously hyperbolically brilliant as it was. (To this day, I’m still kinda sad that the Axl Rose/Bob Guccione, jr. fight never actually happened; if it ever does, someone please inform me.) The first CD I ever bought was the self-titled debut by Rage Against the Machine, and I enjoyed it, but I was in no way culturally-inclined toward the rock music of that time, not at that point. My favorite rock band then was Led Zeppelin and, as much as I love the Breeders, they remain a very close second.

Many of my peers, of course, came from backgrounds were they were able to experience the genesis of what would evolve into “alternative music” holistically, so the effect of its rise was perhaps not as game-changing as it would be for. At that time, I had no idea what had been percolating in the New York, or Boston, or Athens. Seattle? Other than it being the estranged home of Hendrix, I knew nothing about the rock scene there, or anywhere else, until Kurt Cobain got the big push and methodically began programming names into the collective database of pop-culture. Once he started wearing certain t-shirts, covering certain songs and hiring certain bands to open for his band or sit in with them, I, like most people, spent the rest of the decade playing catch-up to what he had already internalized and regurgitated as the music of Nirvana.

Cobain’s infamous description of “Smells Like Teen Spirit” as his failed attempt to write a Pixies song was to the eternally-corrupt American music industry what then-president George Bush’s declaration of “a New World Order” was to geopolitics. It was, in both cases, the start of a new era in mass-consciousness, a new formulation of the context in which we all exist. To be a Nirvana fan meant you had to listen to all these bands you’d often never heard of, because you knew their work was crucial to the development of the stuff you like. It’s like how the British Invasion forced mainstream America to take a second look at the Blues, or how hip-hop helped spur a new appreciation of older black musicians ranging from Clyde Stubblefield to Roger Troutman—or, for that matter, how the “New World Order” concept became the global context in which we placed the many obscure, localized conflicts and atrocities that have happened in the subsequent years. While it is entirely coincidental that Bush made the relevant remarks to a special joint-session of Congress on September 11, 1991—which happened to be the day after “Smells Like Teen Spirit” was released, it’s fitting.

By the time Last Splash made its big splash, the Nirvana push was almost two years old, and the; Cobain would be dead within seven months of its release-date, but a significant portion of the time he had left was spent in various ways of giving the Breeders the rub. They were one of the opening acts on Nirvana’s last American tour, and they got perhaps the biggest exposure of their careers when they opened for Nirvana on MTV’s (pre-taped) New Year’s Eve special in 1993, playing the two lead singles from their album, “Cannonball” (released August 9) and “Divine Hammer” (released October 25).

“Cannonball” was released as a single 22 days before the album, which eventually went platinum based largely on that song. To this day, it remains their best-known song, and one of the more recognizable musical documents of that era. It’s been so ubiquitous, in fact, such a pure and perfect song, that it will always threaten to overshadow the depth, diversity and dynamism of their other stuff—a legacy that jumps genres and hews to no particular pre-defined aesthetic. For as the Deal sisters made their way through the business in those years, they did so as themselves; it’s not that their music conformed to people’s expectations, but that the expectations conformed to the music. That seems a trait they shared with Cobain, a trait he recognized, appreciated and did his very best to encourage, on- and off-stage. (Some seven months before Last Splash was released, Cobain praised Pod as one of his favorite albums ever in an interview with Melody Maker; “It’s an epic that will never let you forget ypur ex-girlfriend”, he said, and he was right.)

Cobain was neither the first nor last artist within those circles to meet a tragic, premature and, frankly, suspicious end, but because it was him, the overall effect was much, much worse. Culturally, Cobain’s death was later book-ended by the murders of Tupac Shakur and Biggie Smalls, but many great talents fell in the interim. The summer of 1994 was a summer of death for the musicians who knew him most closely, many of whom took their own demons on the road, touring through grief and uncertainty. Among the casualties of that brutal year were the Breeders—that is, the version of the band that recorded Last Splash. After Kelley Deal was allegedly caught signing for a FedEx package of heroin, virtually all of the band’s forward momentum to that point was stopped cold as a corpse. She went to rehab, Wiggs and McPherson left to pursue their own projects, and Kim Deal simply remained Kim Deal—the one constant in all of this. Despite all of the great work they’ve done since then, separately and together, they would never again ascend to a commercial plateau anywhere near their peak, which sucks, but life moves fast, and the fickle tastes of the pop-music business move even faster.

The sisters Deal and their colleagues continued recording their own projects for the rest of the ‘90s and then, like a phoenix of sorts, the Breeders was reborn in May 2002. That Title TK happened at all was viewed by some as miraculous, and by others as a sign of the apocalypse, but not even their most hard-core fans (and I count myself among them, maybe even at the tippy-top of the list) would have expected the album to be as unbelievable epic as it was. It’s not just that it was a good album by the Breeders; it was an amazing album by a version of the Breeders that did not exist prior to that point. With its antecedents in the Deals’ solo work in those frustrating years between Breeders albums, the difference between Title TK and Last Splash, in terms of both form and content, was as dramatic as that between Last Splash and Pod. Aside from the vocals and a couple little musical tricks, the three albums might as well have been by three completely different bands, and to a certain extent they were.

It’s now been over a decade since the revamped Breeders lineup strolled into the new century, recording two full-length albums, releasing two albums and an EP in that time while touring the world and landing high-prestige gigs like Coachella and All Tomorrow’s Parties (ATP). Despite this new era of success, some fans remain nostalgic for the “classic” version of the band, with Wiggs and McPherson. With the new lineup gelled and seasoned, it seemed unlikely that would ever happen, but as one has come to expect from the Breeders, anything can happen. As such, the Deal/Deal/Wiggs/McPherson version of the band will reunite and tour this year, in celebration of the 20^th anniversary of the record that made them. I’ve not seen them play in a decade, and I just realized I’ll have to miss their show in Atlanta on May 15; it irritates me beyond words, but that feeling is well-surpassed by the overall joy I feel, just knowing that the Deals are not only alive and well, but thriving. And as they celebrate the 20^th anniversary of their biggest commercial success, it’s really more like a celebration of a scene they helped create—a scene that now holds a dominant position across the scope American culture. As it turned out, with Last Splash, the Breeders were just dipping their toes into the water.

Morrison Pierce and Chance Isbell: “March Dies”/”Pandora’s Box”

Morrison Pierce and Chance Isbell at CORK

Individually, Morrison Pierce and Chance Isbell have crafted two of the more unique brands in this region’s art scene, spanning a range of media in various parts of the country—Pierce as an a painter, musician and maker of short-films, and Isbell as an illustrator and one of the area’s most in-demand tattoo artists. Collectively, they are working together on a new project centered in and around the One Spark event running April 17-21 in downtown Jacksonville. I spoke with them at the CORK Arts District building in Riverside, a place where both men are fixtures and facilitators of the facility’s functions. Each man maintains their own studio spaces in the building.

CORK plays host to their “March Dies” show, which opens on Friday night, March 29. Both men will be displaying some of their newest work for sale, while also offering a variety of items for a silent auction. Live music during and after the show will be provided by Creep City, Burnt Hair (aka Matthew Moyer) and Pierce’s own group, Scared Rabbits. A $10 donation is requested, but not required. All proceeds raised will go to fund the installation project Pierce and Isbell are planning for the epic One Spark crowdfunding event in April. “Pandora’s Box” (# 598) will consist of a large wooden frame with plexiglass panels, creating a large box for attendees to walk through. The artists will use paints to give the box the feel of a stained-glass window, but rendered in their own inimitable style.

I sat down with Pierce in his studio on the 27^th; video of the session can be found on YouTube. He explained that a lot of his motivation/inspiration for doing the piece relates to challenging the sociopolitical status quo, the quiet complacency that has led Americans to embrace extremism while handing over their own civil liberties, all for the sake of fighting an enemy that is spectral at best, and illusory at worse. Having witnessed, first-hand, the chance in people’s attitudes over just the past decade since our disastrous drive into war, Pierce feels obliged to help spur activism through his art.

Preview: “Music For Meows”, Feb. 16

This is the flyer. You don’t need one, because you’re reading about it already…

The third annual Music For Meows concert is being held next Saturday, February 16, at Jack Rabbits in San Marco, and I’d totally forgotten until Heather Bruce (whom I’ve known for years) hit me with a flyer at Birdies the other night. Well, she didn’t literally hit me, in the projectile sense–she slid it into the space between our drinks on the table. Ms. Bruce has been volunteering with the sponsors, the Stray Cat Saviors Group, since the event’s inception in 2011, and she counts it among the most rewarding experiences of her life. The purpose of the concert is to raise money for organizations working to reduce the number of stray, homeless and feral cats in Northeast Florida, with the ultimate goal of making Jacksonville a strictly no-kill city–certainly a noble undertaking, albeit formidable.

As to the event itself: “Music For Meows” will comprise a silent auction alongside the actual concert, which features a diverse sampling of the region’s musical fare, including the maniac metal-men of Status Faux, the ferocious folk stylings of Lauren Fincham, the ethereal electro-pop of Shoni and the balls-out bombast of All Night Wolves. The Pinz, Xgeezer, Dixie Rodeo and FFN are also playing, while I know nothing about them at present, I’m familiar enough the artists cited to be sure it’s all well-worth the $10 cover, which goes to help the little kitty-cats, anyway, so it’s money well-spent in any case. The organizers are partnering with local groups like First Coast No More Homeless Pets. (To buy tickets online, click this link.) As the kids say, “Meow!”

DVD Review: John Cage: Journeys In Sound

 John Cage: Journeys In Sound (Accentus Music)

The late composer John Cage (1912-1992) is one of those artists whose legacy is almost impossible to overstate. There was a world before Cage came along, and that world remains long after he’s gone, but those worlds are very different, and Cage’s seminal sound-craft is a decisive factor. He didn’t just change the music business; he changed music itself, in the process recalibrating the way humans make music, how we listen to music and how we think about music at the most basic and fundamental levels, from orchestrations and collaborations with other artists to manipulations of instruments and recording techniques. As a composer, I see him really as the heir to Arnold Schoenberg, but that could be debated.

A new DVD from Accentus Music, John Cage: Journeys In Sound, was released last October in celebration of Cage’s 100^th birthday. It takes a look at the world he left behind, demonstrating in several different ways how the man’s influence persists even now, 20 years after his death. Cage is one of the very few modern composers to have a serious presence in the larger pop-culture, known even to people who’ve never heard his music—and there is a lot to be heard. This release results from the collective efforts of two critically-acclaimed documentary filmmakers, Allan Miller and Paul Smaczny, who together led a production crew numbering some three dozen different people and companies. Miller, a two-time Oscar winner, was a longtime friend and colleague of Cage’s, and he comes armed with archival footage dating back to the 1960s, which he and Smaczny augmented with material drawn from a wide variety of sources around the world. The result is not so much a unified whole, but a series of sketches that all revolve around a central theme: “John Cage”.

The film begins as an old-school 1950s TV set opens up from its place in a sunlit field; the footage shows a young Cage employing various household items to create sounds for an audience whose nervous laughter gives away their general confusion—a common reaction. It then cuts to an older Cage, making meticulous edits to a film project he was constructing out of his famous “Chance Operations”. A scene in Times Square captures a cross-section of people talking about Cage on the street; the point seems to be that, while Cage may be obscure, he is hardly as obscure as one might expect, at least in that setting. The sights and sounds of the city, among other locales, acts as

22 different artists are featured in the film, besides Cage himself. Most of these people would be virtually unknown to the casual observer, with some few notable, indeed crucial exceptions. Topping that list are John Lennon and Yoko Ono, who actually appears in two different incarnations, in her youth alongside Lennon and Cage (bearded, Bob Ross-like), then later in life, after she’d long since become a sort of godmother to the New York avant-garde performance-art circles in which she and Cage both operated for years. Now, it’s not like John Cage needs John Lennon, or anyone else, to lend credibility to his work (which was often controversial to the point of being divisive, like an Albert Ayler or a Lou Reed, circa Metal Machine Music), but his very presence in the film, like some kind of omniscient, omnipresent ghost, elevates the whole affair beyond the quotidian; Lennon, as always, flirts with the sublime.

Journeys In Sound is a documentary about a musician, and not an actual music video, although we are treated to interpretations of Cage’s work in multiple contexts and configurations. Those who may find that there’s not enough actual music on the DVD to suit their tastes will be assuaged somewhat by the bonus material, which begins with a performance of Cage’s infamous exercise in ambient noise, “4’33”, conducted by the great David Tudor. The Schlagquatett Koln applies their percussive skills to Cage’s “Second Construction”, while pianist Steffen Schleiermacher performs a piece from Cage’s “Sonatas and Interludes for Prepared Piano”, followed by his “Water Music”; the latter two pieces really touch on those aspects of Cage’s artistry that has resonated the most contemporaneously. The set is rounded out by interviews with Cage, his longtime companion Merce Cunningham—a former dancer for Martha Graham who later emerged as arguably the leading choreographer of modern dance—and artist Robert Rauschenberg, all of whom were giants in their respected fields but who together pioneered a whole new concept of multidisciplinary art. The DVD booklet also includes a five-page interview with Miller, which helps put the film in context.

John Cage: Journeys In Sound will not add too much to the knowledge-base of serious Cage fans, but it offers a very nice introduction to a man whose work often defies explanation, in part because so many skilled musicians themselves made the effort to put Cage’s influence in their own words. If Cage himself were alive, or could be sent a copy of the DVD in whatever dimension he presently occupies, he would probably enjoy it very much. Of course, if one can construct a documentary whose very subject could watch it and learn something, that is the mark of success—a mark that Messrs. Miller and Smaczny have certainly earned.

sheltonhull@gmail.com

Album review: Screamin Eagle, “Her Kingdom”

Her Kingdom is the second full-length album by Christopher Alan Nanney, age 24, who performs as Screamin Eagle. It would be hard to imagine a more fitting alias. The sound of his voice—at once high-pitched and nasally, yet also guttural and sonorous—can at times evoke calls from birds of prey, and his musical style could be described as “quintessentially American”, to the extent there is such a thing. His own personal vision is fully-illuminated on his website, with essays and scanned pages from his own hand-drawn chap-books.

Nanney’s a native of Jacksonville. He worked serving sushi at a local café in Riverside over the past year when he wasn’t out performing, but with the onset of autumn he’ll be heading down to Gainesville, where’s he is enrolled in the prestigious Florida School of Massage (FSM). I’ve seen him perform a bunch of times over the past year or so, at places like Underbelly, Dos Gatos and Burro Bar. He was also a regular presence at the now-defunct Thief in the Knight building downtown during ArtWalk, right near where the sumptuous vegan vittles from Dig Foods were offered, and he also performed at the first big CORK event.

The album cover shows him sitting at a table in a dimly-lit restaurant somewhere. He’s wearing a blue t-shirt and placid smile, with silverware and a glass of water nearby; he looks mellow, composed and controlled. It wasn’t always that way: He was arrested for breaking into First Baptist Church in April 2010. The episode is reminiscent of recent incidents involving the Russian band Pussy Riot and MMA fighter/”Bully Beatdown” host Jason “Mayhem” Miller. A report by First Coast News claims police found him “standing on top of a water fountain. He had no shirt or shoes, was wearing a piece of purple cloth like a cape, and was holding a wooden club. Those items are listed in the arrest report as being stolen from inside the church. Police also noticed Nanney had several pages torn from hymnals [specifically, ‘A Hymn For Mother Nature’] stuffed down his pants.” A six-month stay in a mental hospital was followed by the recording of his debut album, Hurricane.

Certainly, it was an unconventional way to worship, but ultimately harmless. In fact, it may have been to his ultimate benefit. As noted on Nanney’s website, he credits the incident with helping to cement his commitment to music, a process that has led right up to the new album, which is excellent. Overall, Nanney’s crafted a collection of several excellent songs that all fit together nicely as a unified whole; there’s little fat, and almost no gristle. The 14 songs on Her Kingdom represent just a fraction of Nanney’s recorded output, which by his estimation may exceed 50 tracks so far. His work has already drawn praises from outlets like Movement, EU and Void. He usually performs as a solo act, using just his voice and acoustic guitar, but the album adds a few dimensions to that sound.

Nanney’s skills on electric guitar are used to nice effect—driving, anthemic—on the opening title-track, then entirely differently on the proto-blues “Rich Man”; it leads right into “The Gift”, which sounds like a cross between early Lou Reed and new Hamell On Trial. “Holy Ground” has a very Led Zeppelin III feel to it, a feeling reinforced by his slide-work in the album’s middle section on “Built To Last”, “King” and “The Meaning Of Life”. “Kundalini Rising” is an instrumental digression running five minutes-plus; it sounds like what a rising kundalini might sound like, if indeed it made a sound at all—and maybe it does, but that’s beyond the scope of this record review. “Pack Your Bags” resumes the electric-blues motif, while the brevity of “Like An Angel” and its repetitive pattern makes it sound like a lullaby. “The Drinkin Song” could, too, especially with its improvised chorus, recorded live at one of his shows. It should have been the last song—13 is an appropriate number, given the elements that combine to make the album—but “To Resist” ends it nicely.

He’s got just a few more shows booked in Northeast Florida before he leaves in September. They include gigs at Underbelly on August 18, Casbah on the 27^th and Nobby’s in St. Augustine on the 30^th. The reader will have probably missed all of those shows by the time you read this, but that’s fine. Without question, we’ve only seen the beginning of Nanney’s career; he’ll be playing around Gainesville’s always-interesting music scene, and he’ll be back in Jacksonville for the occasional set. The Screamin Eagle has only begun to stretch his wings.

Lost In the Stacks: Notes on jazz finds at the Jacksonville Public Library

The title of this piece is stolen from the name of a radio show on WJCT-FM, 89.9 in Jacksonville, Florida. “Lost In the Stacks” is hosted by Matthew Moyer and Andrew Coulon, two of the librarians at the Jacksonville Public Library downtown. The show revolves around music that can be found in the library’s collection, and I was fortunate to be invited as a guest one week in May 2012, as we previewed the Jacksonville Jazz Festival. I’d intended for this to have been online by then, to supplement the material discussed on that broadcast—that did not happen, but better late than never.

SDH at the WJCT studios, May 10, 2012. (Note that I’m holding a set of drum-sticks hand-crafted and signed by the legendary drummer/teacher Von Barlow, who left them there for someone else.)

The tracks referred to here were all obtained via compact disc, and almost all of it can still be found at there. The JPL held a pretty extensive stock of vinyl records, archival-preserved, augmenting that as the CD era took flight in the 1980s. By the early-‘90s, when I first started browsing those stacks in a serious way, the library had one of the most extensive holdings of choice material to be found anywhere—be it a storefront or a private collection. And bear in mind, there was plenty to go around: WJCT had a literal ton or two of records and CDs; UNF still has an excellent collection (in part because they kept their vinyl); local record stores still thrived, and there remained solid commercial chains like Coconuts.

When Barnes & Noble opened in Mandarin, they hired saxophonist Joe Yorio to stock their music section, and he might have ended up doing the same at Borders; I always appreciated his recommendation of Coltrane’s Afro-Blue Impressions, which were the first album I’d heard by him that I loved almost as much as the singular Interstellar Space. It was at places like that where I caught up on the new stuff; at local record stores like Stripmine Records, I’d fill in the gaps of the more obscure labels and musicians—your Hat Art, Tzadik, Black Saint, Leo, Enja material. But my main sources remained the radio and the library.

Like WJCT, the JPL began divesting itself of vinyl as the century turned. I recall buying a dozen first-pressings of Glenn Gould from the library for, I think, seven dollars—since misplaced, but worth a couple hundred if ever found. The jazz stuff had already been liquidated, all for 50 cents or a buck each. But the library has nonetheless continued to thrive in the digital future, or present, whatever. A large portion of my life was spent on the second floor of the old Haydon Burns building, which housed the library’s main branch for 40 years, walking up and down the stacks, neck craned 45 degrees to the right while edging slowly sideways, scanning the discs lined up vertically, efficiently. Back then, it took about 15 minutes to look at everything once, without touching anything, which is not possible; 15 minutes really meant an hour, for practical purposes, and you couldn’t bring coffee in with you.

Now, the music collection is split—the classical stuff (which is pretty nice) is on the third floor (closer to the reference books relevant to that subject), and the rest is down on ground level. It is situated perfectly, in the back; one must walk through the jazz section to reach the Young Adults section, and that’s a good thing for the youth, because it’s their birthright, anyway. Now the CDs are lined up in such a way that you have to flip through each disc, or grab a handful at a time to scrutinize them; it takes a little more time, but you can bring coffee now. Now, as then, folks often come prompted by Bob Bednar of WJCT; his playlists are some of the best ever, anywhere. Everyone has their favorites—stuff they heard there that might have otherwise gone unheard for years, if not forever. The web has facilitated a much faster route to learning about jazz, but there is nothing more holistic than a good public library, and Jacksonville is lucky to have a very good one. My picks (randomly listed) would include:

Charlie Christian, “Waiting On Benny”: Charlie Christian wasn’t the first great jazz guitarist in history—there was Eddie Lang, Les Paul, Freddie Green, Django Reinhardt, Oscar Aleman and others. He was not even the first to electrify the jazz guitar; he was, however, the man who made it stick. He was a game-changer in every aspect of his short career. The library doesn’t have much of his stuff—not the epic take of “Topsy” from Minton’s, nor his sessions with Lester Young—but his run with Benny Goodman’s sextet is well-documented. The high point was, in fact, an afterthought, hence the title: the leader was late, so the remaining five jammed out for five minutes until he showed up. It’s one of the greatest examples of small-group jazz in the immediate pre-war era, ruthlessly swinging the 4/4.

Lennie Tristano, “Turkish Mambo”: The music of Lennie Tristano was a revelation for me from the very first second, as it remains. The library has a CD of Rhino’s repackaging of two Tristano records made for Atlantic Records about 50 years ago. His was a very mathematically precise sort of jazz; he trained Lee Konitz, Warne Marsh, Billy Bauer and Sheila Jordan, among others, and was friends with people like Charles Mingus, Max Roach and George Russell. I was a big Anthony Braxton fan, and I’d gotten a copy of an album of Tristano songs he did from the late great Stripmine Records (its second incarnation, in Five Points). So I grabbed the Tristano disc, which contains some of the most sublime piano music you’ll ever heard. Folks who say the man played without feeling are delusional. On the first album he plays around with tape-speed, speeding-up and slowing-down certain tracks for effect; the second is straight-ahead solo piano. “Turkish Mambo” is a masterpiece—Tristano overdubs three (or four?) tracks of himself, each in a different time signature. Multi-layered, but seamless. Even the metronome swings!

Sidney Bechet, “The Sheik of Araby”: I remember wondering why the library would bother to have two copies of an old Bluebird compilation of tracks by a man largely unknown outside of musicians and critics—but then I heard it, and understood. Bechet is one of the great characters in jazz, and the comp cut a wide swath, leading off with the definitive version of “Maple Leaf Rag”. The track cited here features Bechet overdubbed on all the instruments using the primitive technology of the monaural era, literally cutting new tracks onto the disc, step-by-step. Any mistakes he made could not be fixed, so he didn’t make any. This was the beginning of so much of what we take for granted, in terms of how music is made today.

Sidney Bechet, “Sweet Georgia Brown”: Fast-forward 17 years, and Bechet is in France, a leader of the vibrant expat jazz scene in Europe. Bechet would be dead in a year, but this track, recorded live in Paris, shows that he retained his absolute mastery of the soprano saxophone until the very end. Never has this tune been swung at a faster tempo, never were more notes stacked against the harmony; it was the intersection of Bechet’s NOLA roots and the modernism he spawned. The credible solos of trumpet, trombone and piano are just scenery—the song belongs to Bechet, and drummer Francois “Moustache” Gallipedes.

Django Reinhardt, “Blues For Barclay”: When one speaks of jazz in Paris, thoughts go immediately to the gypsy who changed the game singlehandedly—literally. In 1947, Django Reinhardt brought his quintet into the studios of Blue Star Records and made his first serious recordings on electric guitar. He’d risked death by continuing to perform in occupied France during the war, caught the bop bug, came to New York and was basically rejected by the modernists; his sound was too soft, too dependent on syncopation, too acoustic to be heard in a bop setting. So he came back to Paris with a chip on his shoulder, haunted by not having gotten to assert himself as the rightful heir to Charlie Christian, and you can hear it in damn near every note he played for the remaining six years of his life. The CD Peche ala Mouche collects the cream of electrified Django from 1947-53. To this day, it remains the most slept-on aspect of the man’s legacy, and the CD is out-of-print; I was lucky enough to cop a disc of the 1947 stuff in Chicago, and some of the rest is on YouTube. The song mentioned above was written for Eddie Barclay, who produced the session and was, overall, an invaluable supporter of jazz in Europe, and European Jazz as well. Note the presence of silky clarinetist Hubert Rostaing and Andre Jourdan, one of three amazing French drummers who put in work on these sessions. This is the sound of a man playing for his life, and succeeding.

Larry Coryell/Elvin Jones, “Stiff Neck”: Even five years after first hearing this, it’s still usually the first thing I listen to in the morning; it’s like orange juice for your ears. Elvin Jones was bulletproof for years; his run with the Coltranes (John and Alice) cemented him as the kind of drummer who could do anything—trios with Sonny Rollins, orchestras with Gil Evans, the Pawnbroker soundtrack with Quincy Jones, whatever. He could show up in a movie and just randomly solo in a cowboy outfit, or run through 10-minute fusion workouts in a mesh t-shirt, white leather shoes and disco pants, and it was all good.

Lionel Hampton/Gene Krupa, “Air Mail Special”: It would be impossible to pick one person as my favorite jazz musician ever, but if I were pressed I’d defer to Krupa, since my studies of jazz music initially began as a quest for Gene Krupa records. Damian Lee sold me a Columbia repackaging of Krupa’s epic post-war trio, and it was off to the races. A common fallacy holds that Swing Era icon Krupa, who was in the 1930s the go-to guy for both Benny Goodman and George Gershwin, failed to adapt to post-war modernism, that bop left him in the dust. Untrue. While he could never be construed as a bebopper proper, the man carved his own highly relevant path through that era. Gene Krupa’s 1950s recordings are exceptional.

Sonny Rollins, “What Is This Thing Called Love?”: I’ll be honest—the music of Sonny Rollins took a while to grow on me. I became familiar with his work first through connection to Max Roach, who co-led the quintet with Clifford Brown where Rollins first became a big name in jazz. Rollins’ solo career had already begun before Brown, Richie Powell and their wives were killed in a car accident in summer 1956, but it really began in earnest as well after that; he and Roach both emerged from that tragedy as different, better musicians. Some of their best work was done together in the subsequent two years: Max Roach +4, Jazz In ¾ Time, Saxophone Colossus, The Freedom Suite. All this was nice, and moreso later, but for me what really set me straight about Sonny Rollins’ genius was his awesome 1957 double-album A Night At the Village Vanguard, which is arguably the best recording ever made at that historic NYC establishment. (Similar arguments can be made for the albums made there by John Coltrane and Bill Evans, both of which were made four years after Rollins’. The Cole Porter standard, which is taken full-bore for nearly 15 minutes, also marks one of the first real displays of Elvin Jones’ genius as a drummer. In the mid-50s, Rollins got to work with Roach, Shelly Manne and Art Blakey, among others, but it’s Jones who stands out as maybe the most versatile jazz drummer ever. The whole album is great, but it starts on the best foot possible.

Chick Corea, “Matrix”: Blue Note’s Best of Chick Corea compilation features highlights of his run fronting mostly acoustic trios for the label. I’m not the biggest fan of his stuff, but I like that era, and “Matrix” (from the 1968 album Now He Sings, Now He Sobs) is one of my favorite piano trio recordings ever. Much of the credit is due to his colleagues, bassist Miroslav Vitous and drummer Roy Haynes.

Machito, “Tanga”: The library once had a Verve CD entitled “The Original Mambo Kings” (taking off from the movie released around that same time in the 1990s), and it remains my favorite Latin-Jazz album ever, even though I haven’t heard it in 15 years. A lot of material would just disappear from there, and this was one of them. I don’t really blame them, because it was a great album that, like Peche A La Mouche, is ridiculously hard to find even now, let alone back in the days of special-orders. Still though, they could have just taped it, and not robbed all the rest of us of its pleasures.

Don Byas/Slam Stewart, “I Got Rhythm”: I’d heard a little Slam Stewart’s stuff with Slim Gaillard, whose nonsensical “Vout” style of slang reportedly remained a favorite with the Reagans well into their dotage. Stewart was known for vocalizing along with his with upright bass, sounding much like a bow being dragged across the low strings, creating its own sort of harmony alongside the string-plucking. It was an acquired taste, one that frankly didn’t resonate with me most of the time. But there were two occasions when Slam Stewart was The Man, and this five minute duet with pioneering bop tenorman Don Byas (who can also be heard on the Charlie Christian bootleg sessions) was one of them. The other was a gloomy, ethereal solo version of “Angel Eyes” (written by Matt Dennis, and old running buddy of my old friend, the late great Robert Eskew, whom I met through Alan Justiss).

Gil Evans Orchestra, “La Nevada”: Having noted the supreme versatility of Elvin Jones earlier, here’s another example. Out Of the Cool (Impulse!, 1961) was the greatest Gil Evans album; the man best-known for arranging Miles Davis’ big-band epics was a star in his own right, and “La Nevada” marks the peak of his compositional and orchestral achievements—15 minutes of swirling, throbbing, pulsing perfection from an all-star band driven by Jones, with some assistance from Dizzy Gillespie alumnus Charlie Persip. (Incidentally, the two also turn up together, along with Art Blakey and Philly Joe Jones, on the impossible-to-find Gretsch Drum Night At Birdland album.)

Turtle Island String Quartet, “Milestones”: In the 1980s, Turtle Island String Quartet took jazz to new levels by arranging a number of classic tunes for their group. Songs like “A Night In Tunisia” and “On Green Dolphin Street” not only opened the door to new perceptions of jazz, but crucially made the classical world more accessible to my young ears—a process accelerated shortly after by Glenn Gould and Martha Argerich. Among the classic TISQ efforts of that era are their versions of Bud Powell’s “Tempus Fugit” (which is hard enough, arranged for solo piano, let alone a string quartet) and the track I consider their masterpiece, “Milestones”, a song that always lends to excitement. They played the song at a much faster tempo than the original version, and the finger-picking is just brilliant. When I got to see them perform at the Church of the Good Shepherd (as part of the Riverside Fine Arts Series), it was like a pilgrimage, and one of the best concerts I’ve ever seen.

Joe Lovano/Ed Blackwell, “Modern Man”: For me, all this music represented seismic shifts in my cultural consciousness, but almost all of it was classic material from the Swing Era on through 1950s post-bop and the broader explorations that would culminate with Free Jazz in the 1960s. If the library had a weakness, in terms of their jazz collection, it was that there just wasn’t much new stuff; it was not the place to catch up on the innovations of my own time; that’s why places like Barnes and Noble and Borders became so useful. But, as one might expect, the little bit they did have was the best. Joe Lovano’s album From The Soul (1991) was the point of a spear being thrust by a resurgent Blue Note Records into the future, and it’s one of the finest jazz albums ever recorded, in any era. It was a lineup of future hall-of-famers, most of whom had yet to make their greatest contributions to the music, and one aging legend who took that moment to make a final stand that will never be forgotten. Lovano was joined by bassist Dave Holland, who went on to lead arguably best large jazz group on the planet, and pianist Michel Petrucciani, whose legacy as the heir to Bill Evans’ absolute dominance of jazz piano remained unimpeached until his premature death in 1999. The opening track, “Evolution”, catches the whole band on fire, but neither Holland nor Petrucciani appear on “Modern Man”. Instead, that track is a duet between Lovano and drummer Ed Blackwell, who was probably best-known for his work with Ornette Coleman, Don Cherry, Archie Shepp and Mal Waldron.

Dinah Washington, “Cry Me A River”: No one sounded like her—maybe the purest, most resonant voice in the entire history of music. Like all the great singers, hers was an utterly unique vocal instrument. Dinah Washington died way too young, but the stuff she left behind will last until the end of time, starting with “Cry Me A River”. It defies my ability to explain why’s it such a game-changer.

sheltonhull@gmail.com; May 30, 2012

Book Review: Bill Banfield

Representing Black Music Culture: Then, Now and When Again? By William C. Banfield. Lanham, MD: Scarecrow Press, Inc. 263 pp, illustrated.

Professor William Banfield, director of the Africana Studies Center at the prestigious Berklee College of Music, is what one might call a “Renaissance Man”; “Harlem Renaissance Man” is more like it. This book is, first and foremost, a book about William Banfield, and that’s a story well worth telling. Born in Detroit, 1961, his matriculation was shaped by his local music scene, which was then one of the world’s best. He was playing guitar in bands as a teenager, writing his own music in college, and released his first recordings in the early ‘80s. As such, he knows a lot of people, and he doesn’t mind dropping names; it’s pretty cool. The index runs ten pages, and includes many of the leading figures in Black Music over the past 40 years; odds are he knows anyone who’s living among them. In fact, there’s probably a picture.

While most of the narrative transpires in native haunts like Boston, New York and Minnesota, it was a pleasant surprise to see that pages 58-65 relate to events in Jacksonville, where William Brown died in October 1994. Banfield was a longtime friend and collaborator of Brown, who sang tenor at high-end spots around the country (ending with a run at Friday Musicale) while teaching at the University of North Florida and other places. Banfield’s only trip to the city was for the funeral; it was the second time in three days that he had to bury a close friend, which is the hard part of being a creative artist in any field. Life is short, and one is constantly reminded of that in that business.

The selections from Banfield’s journal entries offer slices in the vital life of a full-time academic and veteran musician. The rest of the book consists of Banfield’s essays on matters related to the art today, and they’re fine enough. The author’s prose modulates from pedantic to ponderous; the second half doesn’t read quite as breezily as the front. There are some splendid interviews that he conducted with artists like Don Byron, Wynton Marsalis, Nnenna Freelon, Maria Schneider and Dr. Billy Taylor, and an awesome section near the end with sketches of key colleagues and concepts built around photographs. The pictures are, in general, a real highlight here. Mr. Banfield is only 50 years old, but has already had a tremendous run in the business; this new book looks back on that past, while laying the groundwork for a prosperous future.

 

sheltonhull@gmail.com; May 10, 2012

Jazz Festival Preview: Sonny Rollins

The Lion In Winter: Sonny Rollins, the last best hope of Hard Bop

 

Sonny Rollins, who headlines this year’s Jacksonville Jazz Festival, was born in New York City on September 7, 1930. His arrival is a triumph for local jazz fans who’d lobbied for his inclusion for years, perhaps as long as the festival itself has been in existence. I know that, in my ongoing conversations on the subject of jazz with Bob Bednar, host of WJCT’s “This Is Jazz” program (and recently a member of the festival’s Hall of Fame), Rollins’ name was in circulation since the late-1990s. We’ve both mentioned his name repeatedly, not that doing so was necessarily necessary, due to his legend status—but, then again, it’s only happening in 2012, and we should consider ourselves lucky to have had the chance for so long.

In the years just after Charlie Parker’s premature death in 1955, Rollins emerged as the dominant new saxophone star of the jazz world. He was then a member of the great Clifford Brown-Max Roach Quintet, sharing the front-line with Clifford Brown, whose meteoric rise was halted by a 1956 car-wreck that also killed the group’s pianist, Richie Powell—whose older brother Bud Powell was in fact one of Rollins’ old employers. When Max Roach pushed through his grief to reemerge with a new band, just a few months later, Rollins was key to its sound. Max Roach + 4 found Rollins out-front with Kenny Dorham, one of the most underrated trumpeters ever, with Roach now taking unprecedented amounts of solo space; the Max Roach that most jazz fans think of today really began in 1956.

Rollins’ work on Roach’s seminal Jazz In ¾ Time helped cement the drummer’s place as a leading figure in the jazz mainstream, while adding further shine to Rollins’ reputation, which even then, in his 20s, was approaching mythic status. The years 1956-‘62 saw him cranking out a string of perfect records: Sonny Rollins+4, Newk’s Time, Tour de Force, etc. For the newcomer who wishes to hear the purest distillation of Sonny Rollins at his peak, one is advised to immediately get ahold of Live At the Village Vanguard. It was his first time recording in what would become, in time, his ideal setting—the trio.

Also, Tenor Madness featured a rare recorded meeting between Rollins and John Coltrane, who was also then beginning to get a serious push as well. Theirs was not a rivalry, so much as it was a case of two relentless perfectionists evolving on parallel tracks. Saxophone Colossus was the Rollins sound encapsulated; “Blue 7” features a solo by Roach that is a masterpiece of minimalism. Way Out West sees Rollins reinventing shopworn tunes of the Old West, while drummer Shelly Manne turns in one of his all-time finest efforts.

The Freedom Suite marks Rollins’ first experiments recording in a more expansive style, a form he’d return to often in later years. His trio includes Roach and bassist Oscar Pettiford, in one of his last major efforts before dying just a couple years later. It also led to a favorite musical curiosity: While waiting for Rollins to arrive at the studio, Roach and Pettiford jammed on the standard “There Will Never Be Another You”, which is 1) the high-point of Pettiford’s recorded legacy, 2) one of the greatest bass solos ever recorded in jazz, and 3) one of only a handful of recordings documenting Max Roach’s singular style when playing brushes.

Rollins returned from sabbatical with a new band built around the sumptuous harmonies of guitarist Jim Hall, who’d spent the previous period making key contributions to two of the most unique groups (in terms of their sound and approach to composition—Chico Hamilton’s quintet and the original Jimmy Giuffre Trio. The title-track of the group’s first record, The Bridge (1962), sounds exactly like what it is: a formal announcement that Sonny Rollins was back, and ready to reclaim a tenor crown that Coltrane effectively abdicated with his brilliant but polarizing excursions in the stellar regions of free jazz.

One of the true jewels in Rollins’ output, and one that doesn’t get enough attention, is his 1966 collaboration with master post-bop trumpeter Freddie Hubbard, East Broadway Rundown. The 20-minute title track evokes “The Freedom Suite” with its length—which wasn’t nearly as big a deal by then, just four years later; credit Coltrane for that—but the sound was completely different. Typically for Rollins, there is no piano; he probably became convinced of the value of this approach while working with Roach, who abandoned the piano chair entirely in ’58. This quartet also includes bassist Jimmy Garrison and drummer Elvin Jones, who were at that time also the backbone of Coltrane’s quartet—surely no coincidence. The sound is also reminiscent of Ornette Coleman’s quartet, circa Change Of the Century.

Incredibly, there may be many jazz festival fans for whom Sonny Rollins is actually an unfamiliar name. When dealing with a man who’s recorded at least 38 albums to date (not counting the copious live sets, bootlegs and sideman gigs), one may be challenged to find an appropriate jumping-in point. While any record makes for a good jumping-off point, the essence of Rollins’ artistry can be gleaned from an excellent double-disc set released by the Concord Music Group to commemorate his 80^th birthday in 2010. The Definitive Sonny Rollins on Prestige, Riverside and Contemporary includes 21 of the key tracks recorded between 1951 and 1958, including “Blue 7”, “Tenor Madness” and “the Freedom Suite”.

Rollins’ most recent album is Road Shows, Vol. 2, released last September. Rollins has continued to record and tour into his ninth decade, winning three Grammys in the 21^st century so far. For those of you who are truly newbies to Rollins’ music, there is no better place to start than the Main Branch of the Jacksonville Public Library, which has almost every major recording by or featuring Sonny Rollins; you can check out his entire career, fit it all into a canvas tote, and (if so inclined) load it all up onto your computer. It’s some of the best music ever made.

sheltonhull@gmail.com; April 16, 2012

Jax Jazz Fest preview: Madeleine Peyroux

[For the May/June issue of Arbus.]

The Pop-Jazz Prototype:

Madeleine Peyroux: A Musical Change-Agent

 

For years, Madeleine Peyroux (born April 19, 1974) has been a darling of public radio, a perdurable presence in every Starbucks, Borders and Barnes & Noble—a singer-songwriter who anticipated the massive shift in the music industry over the past decade. Her evolution from anonymously busking on Parisian streets to global acclaim is a story she’s told herself, in songs written for five albums on three different labels. The reason it took so long for Peyroux to get over in the business is that it simply was not possible when she started, 20 years ago; there was no market structure to support and sustain her artistry.

In a sense, the story of Madeleine Peyroux can be viewed the story of seismic shifts in the industry itself. Her presence as one of the top acts at this year’s Jacksonville Jazz Festival can be also viewed as a shift in the festival, which is making more of an effort to embrace the traditional jazz artists favored by fans and critics alike. Peyroux has always been one those artists hard-core jazz fans would have loved to see here, but never thought they actually would. When her name popped out from the lineup sheet, it was like a pleasant hallucination.

After three albums for Rounder, Standing On the Rooftop is Peyroux’s first for Decca Records, a legendary British imprint founded in 1929 and now owned by Vivendi/Universal. It holds a special place in the hearts of jazz fans for its early advocacy of Louis Armstrong and Duke Ellington, but it has also been a major contributor to the American vocal tradition, in all its many forms. The Decca catalog is, arguably, the most extensive cross-section of American and British indigenous music ever compiled. (This year’s jazz festival’s headliners, Sonny Rollins and Chick Corea, are also currently signed to Decca.)

Decca has maintained that tradition into the present. Peyroux, an early auteur of the new hybrid style, joins a roster featuring Melody Gardot, Sarah Harmer, Sonya Kitchell, Imeda May, Jane Monheit, Krystina Myles, Hayley Westerna, Laura Wright and Nikki Yanofsky, in addition to a whole crop of up-and-coming crossover classical talents.

These ladies are the latest in a line that has included many of the all-time greatest female singers of jazz, blues, pop, gospel, country and classical music, people like the Andrews Sisters, Tori Amos, Dee Dee Bridgewater, Judy Garland, Connie Boswell, Jenny Lou Carson (first woman to write a #1 hit country song) Patsy Cline, Rosemary Clooney, Kathleen Ferrier, Ella Fitzgerald (youngest woman to lead a big-band), Jane Froman, Marilyn Horne, Kathy Kirby, Brenda Lee, Peggy Lee, Ute Lemper, Annie Lennox, Loretta Lynn, Vera Lynn, Dolly Parton, Leontyne Price, Lita Roza (first British singer to chart #1, with “how Much Is That Doggie In the Window?”), Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Kitty Wells (the first female country star) and Aziza Mustafa Zadeh. Note also that Billie Holiday, to whom Peyroux’s voice has been so frequently compared (although it’s changed so much over the years), recorded one album for Decca, The Lady Sings (1956), at their famous studio at Manhattan’s Pythian Temple.

For this album, Peyroux—who started out singing alone on streetcorners—has assembled a sterling cast of collaborators, including pianist Allen Toussaint, violinist Jenny Scheinman, guitar master Marc Ribot and Meshell Ndegeocello. Listeners will by now have an established idea of Peyroux the singer, but she challenges those perceptions with her most adventurous album yet, taking bold risks with an already-lucrative commercial brand. Producer Craig Street is best-known for his work on Norah Jones’ first album, arguably the most important record of the 21^st century, as well as people like John Legend and Cassandra Wilson. He crafted a great sound, dense and haunting, but clear—a fine sonic foundation for Peyroux’s voice.

Peyroux wrote or co-wrote eight of the album’s 12 songs. Scheinman co-wrote two, as did David Batteau; “The Kind You Can’t Afford” was co-written with Rolling Stones bassist Bill Wyman. The album opens with “Martha My Dear”, a Lennon/McCartney chestnut. “Lay Your Sleeping Head, My Love” is a sleek, sophisticated lullaby for grown-ups, written by Ribot and Wyston Hugh Auden. The title-track sounds almost like indie-rock—anthemic affirmations over dissonant chords. When she sings “I have conquered all my fears”, the listener believes her.

For this writer, the album peaks with Peyroux’s lurching, ethereal cover of Robert Johnson’s “Love In Vain”—one of the finest things she has ever recorded. Even experiments like the soft summery funk of “Meet Me In Rio” come off nicely; it’s iPod-ready for beach runs. But through it all, that voice is like the center-line on a road stretching and winding through past eras of music history, on into those unfolding as we speak. With a serious new album on a major jazz label, the years ahead may be her best yet. And even if she never quite eclipses the brilliance of Dreamland, to simply survive, thrive and progress is a victory, in and of itself.

sheltonhull@gmail.com; April 16, 2012

 

Notes on Names Divine and Christopher Bell

[I’ve seen lots of musical acts so far this year—the more, the better. They’ve been mostly local, but plenty have come through on tour; here’s a few quick notes about two of my favorites:]

On a recent Monday evening—Feb. 13, to be exact—I had the great pleasure of watching a band from Chicago called Names Divine perform at Burro Bar. It was their second time playing this city, but surely not their last, as local audiences have already taken to them, and vice-versa. It was a crowd filled largely with other musicians. The Infinitesmal Records crew was out; bought a Kevin Lee Newberry CD, which is excellent and well-worth having.

Names Divine is a large band, led by singer/guitarist Kendra Calhoun, a spectral young woman who’s the only person I’ve ever heard cite Jendak as their favorite musician. Lukas Wolever played a drum-set that appeared to be missing its bass drum; it is unclear whether that was a matter of course or a concession to the inefficiencies of van-travel. The band has at times numbered up to nine; the show at Burro had seven, all shrouded in dark, a whooping whirlwind of sound built around Calhoun’s guitar, the clarinet of Kalina Malyszko (which rhymes with “Zbyszko”) and Ike Floor’s violin.

Names Divine has a two-song EP (containing the songs “Something Vague” and “Maybe Rotten”) available for download via Bandcamp, with more recordings planned for the year. The EP was originally released in a limited cassette-only edition of 100; the hemp cases, hand-woven by Calhoun, are useful for all kinds of things, but those versions are surely gone by now. Another two-track EP was released last December, and hopefully all this is building to a proper full-length release, along with another trip to Florida, at some point this year.

Watching Christopher Bell performing at Burro Bar, where he opened for the sumptuous Canary In The Coalmine on March 3, was something of a revelation. The music was excellent, but his means of making it was even more compelling. Bell’s approach to crafting a full-band sound for his solo sets begins with his instrument of choice, the cello. While almost all cellists prefer to play from a seated position, which is better for bowing, Bell plays his standing up, like an acoustic guitar, with more emphasis on finger-picking than the bow.

His style with the instrument reminds me, oddly enough, of the late jazz bassist Oscar Pettiford: After breaking his wrist playing baseball, Pettiford was unable to comfortably play the double-bass for a time, so he went with the cello; his recordings during that period are marked by a delicacy of sound that almost anticipated Chico Hamilton’s groundbreaking groups.

Bell’s cello is augmented with a self-contained wooden box full of effects pedals, as well as a keyboard that he uses to sample himself, as he crafts his beats in real-time. It was fun, and instructive, to watch each song come together, piece-by-piece, and it speaks to his dedication to performance that he does this for every show, instead of just playing over pre-recorded tracks. Despite his affable demeanor on-stage, which comes off somewhat geekish and slightly goofy, his command of the tools before his gave the performance a professional sheen.

His new album, Cashing In On My Mistakes (2012) represents a huge step forward—more songs, more complex, better-recorded. It’s the sound of a musician who, after years of experimentation, has finally found his mature sound. That was how he sounded at Burro. It would be interesting to hear him performing with Robin Rutenberg & Friends next time he’s here, just to hear the contrast in cello-work between him and Ms. Naarah Strokosch, who is my favorite cello player in the world right now—not because I’m some expert on the instrument, but because she’s cool, and so is that band’s music–a new CD out now.

Notes on Chris Brown, Rihanna and notable woman-beaters of recent history…

Anyone who’s spent any portion of the past couple of years perusing either my Facebook page (arguably the greatest of its kind, ever) or my recently award-winning Twitter feed (thanks again, Jax Mag!) can discern two facts straightaway: 1) I love pro-wrestling; 2) I hate Chris Brown. If I need to explain why, I can only offer congratulations on getting out of your vegetative state, or GITMO, whichever applies to your specific case. My fiery distaste for this glorified minstrel was inflamed yet again by his feuds with WWE Champion CM Punk and country singer Miranda Lambert (both of whom could probably kick his ass), as well as the news that he’s collaborated on two new tracks by Rihanna, who of course is best-known for being repeatedly punched in the face by Chris Brown, and not really minding that much.

To each his own—and these are two peas in a pod. Whereas Brown has spent the past few years trying to balance his need for public absolution against his obvious inability to change the mentality that got him that situation to begin with, Rihanna has spent that time glorifying her abuser and his type in songs, videos and elaborate stage shows built around the single unifying theme of all of Rihanna’s music: S&M. The world erred in viewing that incident as domestic violence, and Rihanna as a helpless victim of an abruptly abusive male. In reality, the beating was just one small, public part of a long-term sadomasochistic relationship between two people who grew up being abused, and whose profession requires them to project self-destructive messages to the urban fans who, being rubes in the most fundamental sense, take their gimmicks seriously. Their job is to help normalize this shit, and make it cool.

The Chris Brown camp—aka the “I don’t hit girls, but if any girl ever gives me a halfway plausible excuse, I look forward to doing so” crowd—makes a very good point in his defense: He did nothing unusual in the larger context of pop-culture. To single him out is unfair, and hypocritical. Brown is not the first famous guy caught beating the crap out a woman, but he is the first who’s ever had to apologize more than once, if only because there were pictures.

A short list would fill this column; a full and detailed list would fill this entire issue, and it’s surprising no one’s actually tried that yet. After looking into the subject, I was disturbed to see that many of my favorite artists, writers and musicians hit their wives, girlfriends, or even strangers; some are well-known, others less so. This list is meant to include only convictions or plea bargains, admitted incidents, incidents that occurred in front of witnesses, or individuals who have been accused by multiple women.

Marv Albert, “Stone Cold” Steve Austin, Chris Benoit, Big Pun, Biggie Smalls, Riddick Bowe, Jackson Browne, Jim Brown, Bobby Brown, Glenn Campbell, Jose Canseco, Nick Carter, John Daly, Miles Davis, Elijah Dukes, Eminem, Mel Gibson, Jimi Hendrix, Terence Howard, Joe Jackson, Rick James, Sean Penn, Jason Kidd, Sugar Ray Leonard, Lex Luger, Sugar Ray Robinson, Tommy Lee, John Lennon, Norman Mailer, Moses Malone, Steve McQueen, Shawne Merriman, Harry Morgan, Mos Def, Bill Murray, Tito Ortiz, Pablo Picasso, Kirby Puckett, Busta Rhymes, Axl Rose, Randy Savage, George C. Scott, Charlie Sheen, Christian Slater, Dick Slater, Wesley Snipes (accused of beating Halle Berry), Phil Spector, Kevin Sullivan, Tone Loc, Stalin, Daryl Strawberry, Hunter S. Thompson, Ike Turner, Mike Tyson, Jean-Claude Van Damme, Sid Vicious, Yanni. And you know who was one of the most notorious woman-beaters in recent memory? Mr. “peace and love” himself–John Lennon! Hell, even Ric Flair has been accused of domestic violence. (Note: For legal reasons, and to save space, no local examples are cited here, but everyone knows who I’m talking about.)

What can we learn from all this? Nothing.

Let’s also note that the Chris Brown/Rihanna debacle points to a common problem in dealing with domestic violence: What do you do when the woman forgives and embraces her accuser? Rihanna fans who were disgusted by the beating she took have now been forced, by her, to put money into the pocket of the man who did it. All her so-called “friends” and family who went to her birthday party just a couple weeks ago were compelled not only to tolerate Brown’s presence as he nuzzled up to her, but also to reportedly sign confidentiality agreements saying they wouldn’t tell the media he was there—and they did it!

And, lest the world come down too hard on Rihanna’s deplorable behavior in all this (which sets a new low, even in this category), let’s not forget that things could be worse. The example of Halle Berry looms, pointing toward her future, in a best-case scenario. At worst, well, one shudders to think. Hopefully she does, as well.

Top Billin’: Sonny Rollins booked for 2012 Jacksonville Jazz Festival.

Mayor Alvin Brown was the star at a press conference held Thursday morning, Feb. 9, to formally announce the 2012 Jacksonville Jazz Festival, which will be held downtown May 24-27. The big news coming out can be summed-up in just two words: “Sonny Rollins”. Jazz fans will need no further embellishment, but for the uninitiated (and becoming a hard-core jazz fan is kind of like an initiation): With the sole exception of Dave Brubeck, Rollins is the world’s greatest living jazz musician, a man whose influence permeates almost the totality of the music in the 60+ years since he first made his name in post-bop New York.

One must note, also, the presence of two other masters among a lineup that is still being finalized: Chick Corea and Terence Blanchard. But the booking of Rollins, who at age 82 does not play concerts that often anymore, and rarely outside the areas more epicentric to the music, is a major coup of historic proportions. He is probably the most important musician to work our festival since those peak years when Dizzy Gillespie headlined multiple festivals toward the end of his life. But that was the ‘80s—a whole different world. The idea of Sonny Rollins appearing in Jacksonville, Florida in 2012 will, for some, be interpreted as a sign of imminent apocalypse; a heavy cynic might wonder if the world is destined to end the day before.

By attaching his name to the festival, Brown does it a service by basically making the festival brand symbiotic with his own. This is a great move, for his own interests, and it also puts a bit of pressure on him to make sure the festival’s long-term momentum is maintained. There were deep initial concerns about its very future coming into this year. Funding for Office of Special Events (which also oversees things like the World of Nations festival and Veterans Day parade) had been in some jeopardy during the last few years of budget battles; while truly significant cuts were not made, the specter of such cuts—and their disastrous effect on the city’s cultural identity—was often invoked by the Peyton administration in its later years.

Those fears, stoked by Peyton, caught fire soon after Brown succeeded him. Those now-infamous staff cuts last year hit the OSE hard, resulting in the elimination of its two top people. Theresa O’Donnell-Price and Christina Langston-Hughes were two of the unsung heroes of city government in the first decade of this century, skillfully implementing the mayor’s mandate to restore the vitality of a festival that had seen better days. Last year’s festival turned out to be their last at the OSE and, headlined by Herbie Hancock and Roy Ayers, one of the best ever. But Brown, at that point less than a month in as Mayor-Elect, was on vacation at the time, so he missed seeing what they could actually do—and within a few months, they were shown the door as unceremoniously as everyone else.

Losing them both, simultaneously, was the biggest blow to the festival as an institution since the scandalous staff cuts at WJCT that led directly to the collapse of the festival under its direction in the late-‘90s. It was a dark day for local jazz fans, that’s for sure, and anxiety about the future has only built-up since. Initial buzz on the 2012 festival has already gone a long way toward assuaging many of these concerns, but more can be done. In a nutshell, there should be a heavy representation of local artists at the festival, the businesses of the Urban Core need to be better-integrated into the overall experience, and the City should take the lead in establishing an even stronger presence for the festival in media, both in terms of social media, as well as trying to strengthen relationships with local and national media.

After WJCT basically washed their hands of the logistics, and the country caught its first taste of the post-9/11 economic instability, it was a gamble to invest public money in the Jazz Festival. (Bear in mind, there are people who oppose its public funding even now, despite the overwhelming evidence of disproportionate upside, in terms of economic impact. If all public monies could generate such direct and visceral return on investment, the whole world would be different right now.) But Peyton did it anyway, in early signs that he was far more moderate than he ever got credit for, and I think we can all agree that the gamble paid off.

It’s entirely likely that, had anyone else become mayor in 2003, the Jacksonville Jazz Festival would have never survived into the 21^st century—the third century of jazz music, which was born in Storyville, New Orleans, in the late 1800s. For this, Peyton will surely someday join Jake Godbold among former mayors enshrined in the festival’s Hall of Fame. At this rate, Brown may end up there, too. He’s got a real gift for the kind of retail politics that work so well in the south, and initiatives like this put those skills out-front.

Having written more about the festival’s modern incarnation than any other reporter (if not all of them, combined), I can say that he’s done the two things I’ve always recommended the political leadership do: 1) Take advantage of the festival’s ability to bridge gaps among citizens, and 2) Bring Sonny Rollins to town. It will be curious to see if the national jazz media gives the festival a bit more hype now; we’ll see about that.

Notes on Occupy Orlando

Raising the Bar: Occupy Orlando sets the regional standard.

This reporter, who lives in Jacksonville, recently spent a couple of days visiting Occupy Orlando, which was then in its third week. The Occupy movement began in New York City, then quickly went national as graphic evidence of police misconduct inspired others to start their own local offshoots in solidarity. As such, while each Occupy location does have certain features common to all, they mostly reflect the distinctive character of the cities and towns they are situated in.

Having already spent hundreds of hours researching the subject in general, including communications with insiders, observers and other journalists at Occupations around this country, the chance to sprint south and check out the scene in Orange County was welcomed eagerly. It certainly helps that Orlando is a beautiful city with great food, from eateries like Dandelion Community Cafe and Ethos Vegan Café, multi-media madness at Rock and Roll Heaven and Park Avenue CDs, which is the best record store in all of Florida. Right around the corner, Stardust Video and Coffee makes epic soups and sandwiches and a massive selection of DVDs for rental. Each Monday evening, their parking lot hosts the Audubon Park Community Market, while the Homegrown Local Food Cooperative (HomegrownCoop.org) provides sustainable fruits, vegetables and dairy to homes and restaurants throughout Central Florida.

The city’s impressive development in the half-century since Disney’s arrival makes it an ideal location in which to weigh the costs and benefits of the corporatized society the Occupiers stand opposed to. The fact that so many of them (the students, in particular) are beneficiaries of this system does not invalidate their position; rather, it reinforces their responsibility to get involved.

After putting the word out via social media (the author maintains the greatest Facebook page ever, full disclosure), about two hours elapsed before receiving a phone call from Brook Hines, part of their Media Relations team. At 45, her experience in the media and public relations world was put to good use. This type of rapid response and vigor in regard to outreach efforts has been crucial to their rapid success in a state that is generally almost devoid of large-scale progressive activism of any kind. As she puts it, “We want to work with the city, rather than crash it.”

There were veterans of the Iraq, Afghanistan and Vietnam wars. Some got their first taste of politics via the Obama 2000 campaign. Others are veterans of older movements, including the assorted presidential campaigns of Ralph Nader, Ross Perot and Dennis Kucinich. A smaller segment comprised folks old enough to have participated in the seminal protest movements of the 1960s; for many old-school activists, these may be the final act in their political lives.

As Hines wrote in one of the group’s press releases: “Like Occupy Wall Street, Occupy Orlando is a leaderless movement, but it is far from disorganized. Coordination takes place online and at daily General Assemblies where … participants present ideas and dialogue until reaching consensus. Then, we take action to accomplish out collectively approved goals. The formation of multiple committees, including media, medical, peacekeeping, legal, transportation, food, event facilitation and materials preparation, enables all participants to contribute to the movement.”

The actual Occupation of Orlando commenced on Saturday, October 15, but planning began two weeks earlier, including two General Assemblies held at the Orange County Regional History Center. The date was announced in advance, a website was set up, Facebook pages and Twitter feeds built, supplies gathered, responsibilities designated and promotional materials (flyers, buttons, posters, etc.) prepared. They even sent out a letter soliciting the support of local businesses. The work paid off. The first event was arguably the biggest political protest ever held in Orlando, drawing between several hundred and a couple thousand participants, depending on who you ask.

Beth Johnson Park is just a quarter-mile or so down the street from Boom Art Gallery, a shop showcasing the brilliant hand-crafted work of Glenn and Sandy Rogers, which they describe as “the fusion of functional furniture and nostalgic art”. Their client list is awesome, and includes Ann-Margaret, Jay Leno, Paul Shaffer, Jeff Foxworthy, Mandy Moore, Robert Plant, Carrot Top and Shaquille O’Neal.

The art is must-see, and the artists are two of the most interesting people I’ve ever met. Glenn’s dual backgrounds in fine art and as an International Flooring and Home Furnishings Designer led to a diverse career that included technical work on Broadway, shows, art exhibits in SOHO, storyboarding the “Mr. Whipple” commercials for Charmin, acting credits in Hollywood and the New York stage; he also helped create the Yellow brick Road used in The Wiz. The Rogers met and married during their 15 years spent touring together as clowns in the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus. Sandy was, for seven years, Director of it Clown College, in which capacity she helped train Steve-O. Unsurprisingly, they offered full support for Occupy Orlando.

“This is redress of grievances, not a wedge-issue protest,” said Matthew, a 23 year-old student and musician part of a group of young people sitting on blankets in the park one day. His group included several people who’d been part of the OWS group, but were reticent about sharing further details with a journalist.

Over 2,000 people had taken part in the occupation, over 200 of whom spoke at the General Assemblies; and another 10,000 people had expressed support online in just the first five days, and those numbers spiked in subsequent weeks as Occupy caught steam nationally and Occupy Orlando started getting mainstream attention.

Like many of their fellow Occupy operations, the Orlando group maintained a camera streaming content directly to UStream.tv. Depending on the size of the crowd and the amount of activity in a given city at any given time, most full-time occupations run live video 24/7, while others fill the “dead” time with video of earlier activity; some cities have more than one feed, in addition to whatever is being done by individuals. This type of instant connectivity isn’t just great for outsiders (advocates and critics alike) to watch what’s going on directly and interpret for themselves. It is crucial for the actual occupiers in each of those cities, who can now learn from each other in real-time, share knowledge, adjust their methods, streamline tactics and goals, as well as networking.

Maybe no other city in Florida has brought in as much money from multinational corporations than Orlando, but there are many ways to quantify it. But its public image is tied-in with Disney and Universal Studios in a way no other city is with the many large companies doing business in them. Theme-park money spurred tremendous growth, and the landscape reflects it, especially compared to the relative bleakness and desolation of the outlying areas like Winter Park, Casselberry, Maitland and Ocoee. (The blank-yet-knowing looks on the faces of the kids working at the Walgreens and Steak and Shake in Apopka made me want to adopt them all, or at least write them recommendation letters to the UNF.) Mass-transit out there sucks, putting the lower-income families living out there at a persistent competitive disadvantage for jobs and schooling, the youth in particular.

The reader has probably seen the video(s) from Zucotti Park, where those three wee lasses felt the hot stuff (which really hurts, by the way). Note that at least one officer was already conducting a discussion with the ladies related to their refusal to get up and leave. While not exactly cordial, it was civil until his colleague imposed his own will upon the proceedings. The original cop’s agitated response, directed toward the one who deployed the burning, stinging mist into a group of civilians and fellow NYPD officers, presaged later confirmation of prior complains against the same guy at political events.

The nefarious action of one cop means little compared to the historic reputation of a department that saves and improves the lives of people every day, nor does it mean that the women sprayed that day were necessarily right. But the incident was recorded from a number of angles, and the targets were highly intelligent, well-connected members of a well-organized protest operation that was already ongoing in New York, with affiliated groups already starting elsewhere. The hardest part of civil disobedience is to not fight back when violence is used; that’s why most people generally want no part of it.

NYPD handed Occupy an image to, for lack of a better word, brand their movement, and like all good brands, it has staying power: young people being pushed around for engaging in political protest. Thanks to cell-phone cameras, YouTube and streaming video sites, a huge portion of the thousands of Occupy-related arrests have been documented, replete with scores of clear-cut incidents of abuse. The situation in Oakland alone could fill a book; surely a number of student protesters will apply their field experience directly to the classroom.

It only took a few good squirts of poorly-aimed pepper-spray to transform Occupy Wall Street into a national movement, and Florida is doing its part

 Beth Johnson Park sits at 57 S. Ivanhoe Blvd. It curves off the I-4. Whether approaching from any angle, the first thing one will see is the American Flag. Currently, Beth Johnson Park closes at 11pm. All citizens must vacate by then, but the sidewalk is not subject to those rules. As such, Occupy Orlando adopted what’s called “Sidewalk Solidarity” by standing on the sidewalk in shifts, 24/7. However, the law does prohibit sleeping on the sidewalk, sitting down on it, or sitting in a chair (all activities that are allowed in the actual park when it’s open). Sleepyheads make use of a privately-owned parking lot across the street, 20 feet away. Although trespassing charges was raised by police, they did not occur because the lot’s owner either refused to make a complain, or was otherwise not present.

This is just among the many examples of how, despite the anti-capitalist talking points and the alarmist rhetoric of commercial media, sizeable portions of the business community around the country are exerting subtle forms of support for Occupy activities. Another is that the nearby Doubletree Hotel offers its bathroom facilities for the occupiers. (Note also that Zucotti Park, the epicenter of Occupy Wall Street, is itself owned by a billion-dollar corporation that clearly has no issue with their presence, as long as they clean up after themselves.)

Most occupiers have chosen to heed those rules, but as expected others forced the point. Occupy Orlando took a huge, risky step forward on the night of October 22, when a small group of activists chose to openly defy city rules and remain in the park after 11. They, as individuals, chose to stage their own independent action without the approval of the General Assembly; some 200 people were doing Sidewalk Solidarity at the time. Some allege it was a blatant publicity stunt, others that it was an attempt to be more aggressive in the face of political power.

This civil disobedience resulted in Trespassing arrests for 19 people, including two women and a juvenile. By all accounts, the police were entirely professional in doing their job. (It’s always worth noting that law-enforcement has very little actual influence on the crafting and implementation of our nation’s laws, and citizens are worse off for it.) If it was a publicity stunt, it worked perfectly by forcing the occupation into commercial media, thus helping to grow the numbers. Another 13 arrests were made a few days later, as activists refused to vacate the park following the teach-ins on November 5—Guy Fawkes Day, incidentally, and also a day after the epochal success of Bank Transfer Day.

 

Among those 19 arrested that night was a wheelchair­-bound young man who had been doing unpaid volunteer work for President Obama’s national reelection campaign, similar to his activities in 2008. His disability leaves him unable to do most types of work, so he lives at home with his family, on a fixed income, while he pursues his studies. Like many people in his position, he’s felt the heat of price increases and the pressures exerted on many Americans as state legislatures around the country clip strategic holes in the social safety net; those concerns manifest as political action.

His involvement with Occupy Orlando was as a private citizen, not as any type of representative for an Obama campaign that many critics allege the Occupy movement is designed to help, much as the Tea Party ultimately served Republican interests. However, after the news of his arrest became public, he was dismissed from his official duties and rendered persona non grata, on the pretense that his arrest brought negative publicity to a campaign that hasn’t even been officially declared yet.

Further, the fellowship that made the delicate balancing act of his student life possible was immediately pulled, throwing his educational future into some doubt. The crushing news was delivered by telephone, by a supervisor who was either unwilling or unable to say exactly who made the decision, or to delineate the process by which his life was ruined. He was still emotionally wrecked, visibly and palpably so, as I spoke to him ten days later; the police who arrested him were downright kind, compared to the allies who shafted him, over a petty charge that will most be dropped.

Yet, despite this life-altering humiliation, the young man was insistent that his name not be used here, because that’s how strongly he feels about reelecting Obama. That, in a nutshell, in what the Occupy movement is about: Young (and not-so-young people doing what they think is right, despite the extreme consequences that may result. His plan now is to hit the road, visiting and collaborating with other Occupy operations in places like New York, DC and Chicago, culminating with the ongoing actions in the city of his birth, Philadelphia.

Many activists on the scene gave vocal credit to students from the University of Central Florida. Many of those UCF “Knights” have lived up to the moniker, in terms of their contributions to the effort, from logistics to publicity.

           

            October 25 saw 15 Occupy Orlando activists expanding outreach efforts even further by sitting in to show support for the Amalgamated Transit Union Local 1596, which was negotiating with the Board of Directors for LYNX, Orlando’s bus system. According to a press release, “Drivers have not seen wage increase in three years and are being offered only a 0.5 percent wage increase at a time when inflation for food is forecast to rise as much as 4.5 percent.” They had no obvious effect on negotiations, which remain calcified, but it made for valuable experience.

            Such action has become a worthwhile habit.      The day before, Occupy Orlando sent  27 people in business clothes to the Orange County Legislative Delegation meeting, where they had meetings with state representatives from both parties. Occupy has also become a regular presence at meetings of the Orange County School Board and the Orlando City Council.

November 1 was Day 18 of the occupation, and coincided with the “Awake the State” rally. The day’s most popular whipping boy was the local Chamber of Commerce. It operates out of a large multi-story building adjacent to the park, yet reportedly pays only $1 in property taxes per year. Spicing the brew, Mayor Buddy Dyer had apparently, a couple days prior, made the astoundingly absurd claim that there was no corporate money at all in Orlando. 

A low makeshift stage was laid out near the entrance to the park, placing the Chamber building (and the sunset) behind the speakers. Their modest PA was sufficient. Speakers included an older activist whose rights to vote had been forfeited via felony; he copped to his mistakes, and urged everyone else to cast the votes he could not. The owner of Dandelion talked about the wildly disproportionate environmental impact fees that undermined profitability and her ability to hire new workers. A member of the teachers’ union noted that Florida teachers haven’t received a cost-of-living wage increase in three years; “Education cuts don’t heal”, she said. The delightful Sundrop Carter brought glad tidings from the United Auto Workers, who are stepping up organizing efforts in Florida, a state basically built around the automobile.

Although no elected officials made their presence felt on Day 18, the crowd did include a number of veteran political insiders, as well as a couple of candidates. Mike Cantone, 28, is seeking to unseat mayor Buddy Dyer in next year’s elections (scheduled for April 4, 2012). He comes off as a smart, earnest young man who’s quickly developing a certain facility with the lingo of leadership. Having myself run for Jacksonville City Council in Jacksonville earlier this year, I was curious about how his new-reality based, grass-roots approach would fare against an entrenched incumbent like Dyer.

 He began smartly, with a streamlined and systematic approach to his platform. He broke it down into seven key components; for each he created quick, one-line synopses of his vision, then identified a number of forward-thinking proposals he would implement in order to methodically each component of the larger agenda. Listed alphabetically, they are: Clean Energy (4), Coordination (3), Education (4), Innovation (10), Public Safety (7), Quality of Life (6). As a Jacksonville resident, I appreciate the catchphrase “A Bold new Vision for Orlando” even more than his slogan, “I Like Mike!”

As one might expect, he’s fully-synchronous with social media, and his promo materials are well-done; they’re also union-made. The aesthetic centers on soothing blues and greens, reminiscent of the city’s waters and lush plant-life. The candidate’s picture is good, with a nice sunset background, but it can be improved upon.

We both agreed that the non-partisan, “unitary”-style elections held at local levels offer the best chance to get new progressive talent into office, as opposed to the standard process, which allows Democratic gatekeepers to freeze out any dissenting voices. As we have both noted repeatedly, the great efforts made by Occupy so far will be wasted unless they translate to serious political gains in that epochal year of 2012.

Occupy Orlando has a lot of electoral activity they can exert potential influence on. Senator Bill Nelson is up for reelection, and the popular Democrat will have several marginal Republicans chasing his rear bumper; a strong progressive turnout helps bolster what looks so far to be an fairly easy win, and be crucial if conditions change. All seats in the US House are up for grabs next year, and those are always volatile; Occupy’s exact place amidst is impossible to guess..

Locally, besides Dyer’s seat, four of the seven School Board seats in Orange County are up for grabs, as well as three of six seats on the Board of County Commissioners and three of five seats on the Soil and Water Board. The offices of Sheriff, State Attorney, Public Defender, Clerk of Courts, Comptroller, Property Appraiser, Tax Collector and Supervisor of Elections are all on the ballot in 2012, so the stakes are huge. This election will decide the future of their city.

In real terms, a guy or gal like Cantone would need a massive groundswell of progressive activity statewide, the rising tide to lift all boats. He (or any other, similarly-inclined candidates elsewhere next year) can probably build a formidable street team, but to keep them all activated at full efficiency, it takes money. 2012 will be the most expensive election cycle in history; to win in that environment does not necessarily require more money, but it does require a substantial amount of ready cash. My campaign, for example, did not result in victory because I was not an effective fundraiser, and could not find anyone who was. Cantone and his ilk must be a lot better, a lot faster, and it’s quite possible.

I also met a fella named Curtis Southerland, also from Jacksonville. His path into the realm of political activism was neither planned nor voluntary. His obscure, outsider campaign to unseat Jacksonville Sheriff John Rutherford as a write-in candidate in 2011 was motivated by his desire for redress after his brother Mark[?] was killed in a one of those “police-involved shootings” that have now become an unfortunate trademark of the Jacksonville Sheriffs Office. He lost, of course, but that’s fine because the fix was in from the start; former JSO Public Information Officer Ken Jefferson had an excellent chance to win, but regional Democrats stymied his fundraising, for unknown reasons. Southerland’s campaign was more of a protest against the system and a means of telling people about the tragic death of his brother.

Local media coverage was generally fair, though laced with the same snarky cynicism typical of Occupy reporting in general. Leading the pack, surprising, was the nominally liberal Orlando Weekly, which functions in the case as a gatekeeper for an Establishment Left that has been uncomfortable with Occupy from the get-go. In its October 27 issue, staff writers Billy Manes and Jeff Gore flog the standard commercial media talking points: That Occupy has no “list of demands, a chief goal or an overarching political philosophy”. While conceding their sidewalk strategy to be “brilliant”, they repeatedly note the “(ostensibly) leaderless nature of their organization” and keep the focus squarely on the negative aspects, like arrests and shady characters.

Granted, this was published only 12 days into the Occupation, and surely there is more left for them to say on the subject. But as a visitor to the city, I was disappointed to see its leading liberal publication projecting a generally dismissive attitude toward young people whose political views are basically consistent with the values of alt-media in general. It’s the sort of reductionist thinking that has essentially tanked political-based print media in general, in particular an alt-weekly market that has become aggressively corporatized and unresponsive to the needs of their audience.

Ironically, that issue’s cover features a snarling, broken-toothed Tea Party caricature as part of a series of poorly-done humorous Halloween masks. Occupy gets a nod, too, with a cut-out version of the now-ubiquitous Guy Fawkes mask adopted from “V” For Vendetta, which is now a universally-recognized symbol of Occupy and the larger (and more amorphous) Anonymous movement. “Initially dismissed as iPad-wielding hippies, the occupiers leered and groaned in the face of authority, anxiously anticipating police brutality and pepper spray,” writes Manes.

“The very notion that this leaderless movement had come to life as a pseudo-political monster is enough to cause apoplexy and anxiety among those in power [including, apparently, OW itself]. ‘Give us your list of demands!’ they screamed at the occupiers in a panic, only to realize that there really wasn’t a list of demands.” Imagine, two completely contradictory ideas coming from the same writer, in the same publication, just nine pages apart. This kind of cognitive dissonance certainly helps explain why the mainstream media still struggles to comprehend the depth and complexity of Occupy.

http://www.occupyorlando.org

http://www.occupythehood.org;

othorlando@gmail.com 

http://www.mikecantone.com

http://www.ocelections.com

http://www.HomegrownCoop.org

http://www.stores.ebay.com/boomart

sheltonhull@gmail.com; November 7, 2011

Interview: Kathleen Hanna

[The piece below is for Folio--runs Tuesday. But, since Ms. Hanna's birthday is today, it made sense to preview it now, for the one-half of one-millionth of the world who actually checks this thing out--and thanks, by the way. I should also note that the section of downtown Jacksonville with MOCA and the newest Main Branch library are the best investments made in local public infrastructure in the past decade, a decade with many nice moves made.

The library's music section is probably the best in Florida, in part because the collection is old, and in part because their acquisitions game is tighter than the Carlyle Group. The record collection alone was worth perhaps $100,000 before it was sold off piecemeal; WJCT did the same thing, and the cognoscenti worldwide sez "Thanks!" The zine collection is the most recent addition, and it touches on an aspect of regional culture crucial to its current leviathan status.

And next time you're in Gainesville, make sure your visit includes a) the Butterfly Museum, b) Hear Again Music, and c) the legendary Civic Media Center, of which I could never say enough. Etc. and so forth, here ya go.]

Leader of the Pack
Kathleen Hanna on zines and scenes and feminist things.2011 Zine Symposium
“Zines: The Personal Is Political”
Jacksonville Public Library, Hicks Auditorium
Panel Discussion, 11am; Keynote Presentation, noon
Back when people wrote actual letters, I sent one to Kathleen Hanna, former singer for Bikini Kill, whose three imperfectly perfect albums in the ’90s set a sonic standard whose emulators have dominated the 21st century. Between her sound and their fury, Hanna (who turns 42 on the 12th) helped establish the continuity that ensured “girl singers” could do what they want, however they want to do it. What was next? I wondered. She sent back a package with some of the zines she was doing then; soon, Julie Ruin emerged, followed by Le Tigre. The original Rebel Girl is now an established veteran of all aspects of media, and one of the most influential women of her generation. She’s recorded eight albums since 1991, three EPs, seven singles featured on nine different compilation albums and, most tellingly, appeared on 17 different albums by other artists. She’s also the subject of two documentary features: The Punk Singer and Who Took the Bomp? Le Tigre On Tour. (And, of course, her cameo in the video for “Bull In the Heather”!)

Hanna’s first visit here comes this Saturday, November 19, by invitation of the Jacksonville Public Library, where she’ll sit on a panel convened by curators of the library’s game-changing zine collection. Panelists include author, musician and FSCJ art professor Mark Creegan; artist/author Adee Roberson (http://www.pineappleblack.blogspot.com–very nice!); zine writer Travis Fristoe (whose credits include Maximum RocknRoll, Library Journal and Gainesville’s legendary Civic Media Center); and myself, a big fan of all their work. Hanna will then deliver the keynote address for the 2011 Zine Symposium. For adepts and adherents of the art form, this cannot be missed. Folio caught up with the ever-busy Hanna via Internets:

FW: Did the Internet kill the ‘zine trade, or somehow make it better?
KH: I think the internet gave certain obscure zines a place in the modern landscape they never would’ve had without it. Having said that, it is annoying to me when people buy older zines and then scan them and put some pages up on the internet without the author’s permission. They lose their original context that way, and often zines that were written in a specific time and place come off as overarching and ahistorical when, really, they were responding to specific things that were going on in local scenes at the time. Zines kind of were our blogs before blogs existed; they were meant to be quick and rough and
local and not overworked.If we wanted to write books, that were more permanent, we would’ve, but we didn’t. They were meant to be ephemeral and function in a specific time period.

FW: Have you ever worked with the Future of Music Coalition(futureofmusic.org)?
KH: I know Jenny and Kristin but I’ve never worked with FMC. [Note: Jenny Toomey and Kristin Thomson co-founded the band Tsunami.] They were, I believe both at the first Riot Grrrl meeting and were verysupportive and involved early on. I went to Junior High with Jenny Toomey.

FW: What are your thoughts on Occupy Wall Street? [Note: OccupyJax has
been in Hemming Plaza since Nov. 5]

KH: I think it’s great. I am pretty inspired by what young people do in general (not like it’s all young people, but it seems like quite a few young people were the instigators). It is interesting to me when people criticized it in the beginning, claiming it was all young, middle class people, and I was like “They are the ones who can manage to physically be down there sleeping on the bricks, and so they are, and that’s awesome, not a bummer!”FW: How do you feel about the “SlutWalk” trend?
KH: I am always happy when women are taking it to the streets and starting discussions.FW: What are your thoughts on the late Slits singer Ari Up?
KH: She was an innovator and I can’t believe she is gone. We lost her and Poly [Styrene] in a 2 year time period [note: both to cancer] and I think many of us are still reeling from this.

FW: Tell me about Lydia Lunch?
KH: LOOOVE HER. There are many spots on the album I am working on with my new band The Julie Ruin where my vocals are totally influenced by her style. She has influenced culture on such a deep level and never really been given her due.

FW: Is it possible for women to take positions that contradict the larger feminist community, while retaining feminist credentials? What must she say or do to be “expelled” from the movement?
KH: There are so many different ways to enact one’s own feminist ideas that it is pretty hard to come up with a unified list of feminist do’s and don’ts, and I personally hate that way of thinking. I am way more into allowing women to define feminism for themselves and keep on stretching its meanings. More arguments, more questions, more disagreements, this is what leads to a vital movement, not lists and rules.

FW: What’s it like seeing yourself on film?
KH: Um. Weird and embarrassing pretty much sums it up, but I have a distance from it now. After Who Took the Bomp? came out, I started being filmed for an upcoming documentary called The Punk Singer and my main thing is that I don’t really care if I come off like a jerk. I just want the movie to be engaging so people will go off on their own and check out my work and the stuff me and my bandmates made together.  I mean, on one hand I have a huge ego and love attention and all that, that’s why I’m a performer, but on the other hand I don’t take any of it too seriously, cuz I really am just an ant on anthill like everyone
else and my time here on earth is finite.

FW: Which of your recordings stands out as most representative of your aesthetic?
KH: I am most proud of the Rebel Girl 7″ Bikini Kill did and the first Le Tigre album. The song “Hot Topic” on that album is very much indicative of my aesthetic. Poppy yet still DIY with a big nod to the past.

FW: Who are the “Riot Grrrls” of today?
KH: Brontez Purnell of The Younger Lovers is my favorite modern riot girl. Also the women who run the website http://www.girlgangunderground.org/.

FW: Why have you never appeared in Jacksonville before?
KH: I don’t really know why, it was always hard to book stuff in Florida for some reason. Le Tigre played in Gainesville and Miami, but BK never played Florida at all.

jplzinelibrary.wordpress.com
jaxpubliclibrary.orgsheltonhull@gmail.com; November 7, 2011

Imported Goods: Candy Lee follows her bliss to Jacksonville

Candy Lee Long and her husband David moved here from Fayetteville, Arkansas at the beginning of the summer, to study and be closer to their friends; she has quickly gotten established herself in a scene already swollen with skilled singer-songwriters. She notes Tobacco Pat, Robin Rutenberg, Gospel Music and Sunbears! among those she’s enjoyed so far, when not herself working spots like Burro Bar,European Street, Dog Star Tavern, Speckled Hen Tavern, New Orleans Café and the Riverside Arts Market. She hosts the open mic nights at the Wine Bar and has featured at Creekside Songwriters Showcase. A strong start, but any standard.

She’s new to this scene, but not to Florida, or the business. Born in Ft. Myers 27 years ago, Candy Lee lived briefly inVermont but spent the last three years studying and performing in her adopted hometown of Fayetteville, which is where her artistry really caught stride as leader of a group (which included Dan Dean, Warren Dietzel, Jennifer Graham and Emily Jenkins) aptly dubbed “Candy Lee and the Sweets”. It was there where she found the confidence to really begin to define herself as a creative individual, performing as a solo act and putting the emphasis on her own songs. And feedback was positive: she was named Best Female Singer/Songwriter and Best Female in a Band by the Northwest Arkansas Music Awards.

Lee has been singing since childhood, and performing in school bands and various other groups for almost as long, but only started on guitar four years ago. “I used to play clarinet, but haven’t since high school. Now the only instrument I play proficiently is my voice. My knowledge of music theory is minimal. I can read music, but when it comes to what I do as a singer/songwriter, I mostly play by ear.” With diligent practice she’s evolved on the instrument to effectively support her songwriting. These skills are ably displayed on her debut solo recording, The Gate, which comes in a package entirely designed by her. (It’s worth noting here that Candy Lee is also a skilled artist and graphic designer.) Not many musicians are as intimately involved in every aspect of their recording.

According to her website, “The Gate is a project of music, art, and philosophy. It explores the evolution of human thought, as experienced by Candy Lee. It is the story of the hero’s journey to Self-realization and enlightenment.” Recorded inFayetteville last year, the album features her own artwork and her own compositions, which display a melodic sense of unusual potency. It captures a musician of ferocious self-assurance, one unafraid to go full speed ahead and miles away in pursuit of her artistic objectives.           

Candy Lee’s voice changes tone and pitch from song to song; the voice services the song, rather than the other way around. Hers is the only voice heard on the album, frequently overdubbed for harmonic purposes; this comes out in places like the choruses on “Worst Enemy”, one of the album’s best tracks. In practice, her voice sounds very much like the Casady sisters, aka Coco Rosie; this comes through on the opening track, “Blues Skies”. At others, like on “Experiences”, it’s more reminiscent of Cranberries singer Delores O’Riordan. It doesn’t sound derivative, but more like a set of certain sonic tools employed in service of the songs.         

Following the album itself, a few minutes of silence yield to a bonus track that shows off yet another aspect to Candy Lee’s artistry: electronic music, rendered by her group “Metasapien”, whose debut disc, Art Or Die, was released a couple years ago. Candy Lee sings the hooks while husband David Long raps over beats they crafted together. The two met shortly after she graduated high school, playing together briefly in an acoustic duo called 50 Cent Trade. Long also records as “I Am”; his third album, Spiral Dynamics, was released in February, and all can be had via his Bandcamp site.

From a newcomer’s perspective, what are her initial impressions of our scene? “I like the indie folk scene and the fans who attentively listen at shows,” she says. “I didn’t really know what to expect when I got here, as far as the music scene goes. I had heard that there were plenty of places to play, but nothing in detail about the other bands in the scene. My initial impressions of the music scene in Jacksonville were positive. I am happy the music scene here is so diverse.

“What I dislike about Jacksonville is that it seems very commercial, like most of Florida. I miss the small town, environmentally conscious vibe of Fayetteville, with its independent businesses, bike trails, community gardens, and kid friendly events. The environment there gave rise to a certain level of introspection” in the resulting cultural products. Of course, many people here are working to change both that perception and the underlying realities; the fact that the city still attracts her type, even in this ridiculous recession, is certainly cause for optimism.

Long earned her BA in Environmental Studies at Florida Gulf Coast University, and picked UNF to pursue a Master’s in Environmental Engineering. Having made the successful transition into a new phase of her life and career, her immediate goals are simple: keep moving forward. She’s building contacts and booking gigs in new (to her) venues, while planning to tour in November. The home studio she used to record The Gate will be used to record her follow-up, with release slated for sometime in 2012.

@the Green Door, 2008. Photo by "Noir33"

www.candyleemusic.com

http://www.facebook.com/CandyLeeMusic

http://twitter.com/CandyLeeMusic

http://iamdavidlong.bandcamp.com/

sheltonhull@gmail.com; September 19, 2011

Press Release: Odd Future/Adult Swim

ADULT SWIM PICKS UP LIVE-ACTION SERIES WITH ODD FUTURE WOLF GANG KILL THEM ALL             LOITER SQUAD TO PREMIERE ON ADULT SWIM IN 2012 Adult Swim announced today it has picked up the live-action series Loiter Squad, a 15 minute live-action show that features sketches, man on the street segments, pranks and music from Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All. The cast, featuring the Los Angeles collective of rappers, artists, and skateboarders, channel their multi-faceted creative talents in this Jackass-style showcase.  This announcement comes on the heels of Tyler, The Creator’s “Best New Artist” win at the 2011 Video Music Awards.  Creating their own show comes as a natural next step for Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All, whose accomplishments have garnered wide media attention in 2011 and continue to compound on themselves.  Singing member Frank Ocean contributed to the new Beyonce album and the collaboration between Kanye West and Jay Z. Tyler, The Creator’s Goblin LP has sold more than 100,000 copies and his Yonkers video has been viewed more than 22 million times. Odd Future is on the verge of their first national tour and the release of their Golf Wang book in November will document their travels and hometown exploits.  Loiter Squad is being produced by Dickhouse Entertainment–the Hollywood production partnership of Johnny Knoxville, Jeff Tremaine and Spike Jonze who have been the creative power behind hits including Jackass, Nitro Circus, Rob & Big, Rob Dyrdek’s Fantasy Factory, Wild Wonderful Whites of West Virginia, The Birth of Big Air and Wildboyz.  The Dickhouse sensibility provides a perfect match for the unique viewpoints, masterful pranking and artistic inclinations of the Odd Future crew.  Jeff Tremaine and Adult Swim’s Nick Weidenfeld will serve as executive producers. Adult Swim (AdultSwim.com), launched in 2001, is Turner Broadcasting System, Inc.’s network offering original and acquired animated and live-action series for young adults.  Airing nightly from 9 p.m. to 6 a.m. (ET, PT), Adult Swim shares channel space with Cartoon Network, home to the best in original, acquired and classic entertainment for youth and families, and is seen in 99.4 million U.S. homes. Turner Broadcasting System, Inc., a Time Warner company, creates and programs branded news, entertainment, animation and young adult media environments on television and other platforms for consumers around the world. ADULT SWIM CONTACTS: Atlanta     Tim DeClaire                              (404) 575-9283                                                  tim.declaire@turner.com Elliott Niespodziani                     (404) 885-4834               elliott.niespodziani@turner.com Wendy Rutherford                       (404) 827-5097               wendy.rutherford@turner.com ODD FUTURE PR CONTACT: Heathcliff Berru @ Life or Death PR  (773) 344-8216               info@wegetpress.com

Preview: “Tangerine” at Walkers Wine Bar, Aug. 25

courtesy Nicodemus Atrium Galleries

The man known as Zaiche keeps many plates spinning. After emerging in the 1990s as one-third of the hip-hop group Power Douglas, Zaiche (a native New Yorker) traveled the world before returning to his adopted home of Jacksonville, FL a few years ago. He and his mother opened the Kabre’ Cyntanna Salon on Park and King streets a couple years ago, and he is now also a principal in the Nicodemus Atrium Galleries, a new management/promotional groups focused on the freshest, most sophisticated stuff in the region. (You know, that Nick Fresh-type stuff!)

His newest project is called “Tangerine”, and it’s being promoted as an upscale, high-energy gathering of the new power base, the young artists, musicians and activists helping to put Duval back on the map as a hotbed for progressive politics and diverse cultural excellence. The first event occurs on Thursday night, August 25, at Walkers Wine Bar, located on the corner of Post and King streets in historic Riverside, just a couple blocks down from Kabre Cyntanna. It’s a perfect venue for such a gathering, with the sort of stylized industrial aesthetic that has come to define the area; the owners of Walkers also own a dance club called The Loft and a wine bar called Rogue, located side-by-side just a few yards from Walkers.

As usual with a new project, it’s unclear exactly what will happen. What we do know is that DJ Chef Rocc, of the infamous Big Bucks DJ crew, will be manning the tables. The rest is largely up to the clientele. Zaiche wants it to be the kind of place where conscious cats can network and plot the power moves needed to move the city forward. Show your support by attending, and be sure to “like” the various FB pages linked from here. I will certainly be there!

G. Jerome Jones on Hip-Hop

Jones and Justiss, 2006

[We don't often get guest posts at the "Money Jungle Safari", but this is a welcome exception. G. Jerome Jones is one of my oldest friends, a multitalented multimedia pro who's been a major influence on myself and others in the business. He's done short-stories, plays, recorded a couple albums (one with DJ Zane III, the other with Jay Cole and the late, great Alan Justiss)--but he may be best-known for his spoken-word skills. I met him in 1997 at the old Nicotine Meltdown, through Justiss, when I came to write a story about it; I met Al Letson, Nestor Gil, Matt Butler, Troy Lukkarila, Chris Spohn and others all within the same couple weeks--a good summer!

Later, Jones was a founding editor of the original Section 8 Magazine, which ultimately delivered over 1,000 pages of original "local, national and international art, music, and information" to hundreds of readers. It would be impossible to say succinctly how important he was to building the organization to the global (and, quite possibly, intergalactic) status it hold today.

Jones reads from the 8, Elevations 2000

A graduate of Florida A&M University (one of the very best HCBUs), Jones hasspent most of the past decade in his native Barbados, where he continued to crank out material while developing his own greeting card/postcard business that shows great promise to fill some sizable gaps in that industry. He’s also working on a series of new releases related to his first love, poetry.

Jones recently took time to expound on a subject central to all our lives: Hip-Hop. He helped chronicle the formative earlier years of Duval’s stellar hip-hop scene in his reporting, and was the charismatic force behind the “Elevations” hip-hop nights held at Jack Rabbits under the 8 banner a decade ago. Artists like Willie Evans, Jr., Astronautalis, Paten Locke and dozens of others (a full list would be nice) all performed at those shows. Evans debuted “Underground Utilities” there, while Astronautalis once did a 30-minute freestyle while waiting for everyone else to show up. Epic. Enjoy.]

In Retrospect: An Old Head Takes a Look Back

Lord Monsta Ty battles Triclops; Zane III on the decks, 2000.

In many circles the question is often asked “what is Hip-Hop?” or “is that Hip-Hop?”  I’m sure most would agree that Hip-Hop is steadily evolving, and has come a long way from when it was birthed in the mid to late 70’s in theNew York Cityborough of theBronx.

As with any growing entity Hip-Hop has passed through many phases in its development and sadly many of today’s Hip-Hop heads don’t know, or care to know, about these changes. Most are caught up in the now, and really, why should they care about the history? No reason. But true Hip-Hop heads care about the history if for no other reason than that it did happen and without a doubt there was some timeless music that was produced and wonderful events that took place way back when. 

To many over the age of 35 the true essence of Hip-Hop was found in the “golden era” of the decade of the 80’s. In this time a great deal took place that shaped the styles of today. So let’s rewind a bit, sit back, as I bounce around through some of the moments and happenings that make Hip-Hop the lovely thing that it is to me. Me, an old geezer on the other side of 40, who by no long stretch of the imagination is an authority of this beautiful movement, but who, like many, is just another rabid fan and, thanks to time, has seen some thangs.

THE GOLDEN ERA- 1979-1989            

A cat by the name of Kool Herc is often mentioned as the one who started it all. Herc, originally fromJamaica, would take his sound system into the parks, set-up and throw a park jam, while doing this he would sometimes talk (or toast) over the instrumental records and do a bit of mixing. More DJ dexterity came with cats like Grandmaster Flash who was basically the man who started the whole scratching deal.

From the DJ came the rapper. Names like the Sugar Hill Gang with their hit “Rappers Delight” came out in 1979 with the lyrics by Grandmaster Caz who never got the credit. Kurtis Blow whose big hit was the “Breaks” and Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five also began their careers in ’79-’80. In 1982 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five dropped a bomb that showed Hip-Hop could be more than party music with their infamous “Don’t push me ‘cause I’m close to the edge…” the line that started the classic jam “The Message.” Also in ’82 Afrika Bambatta and the Soul Sonic force had a big hit with “Looking for the perfect Beat.” But it was RUN DMC who took it to the proverbial next level with their debut in ’83 – “It’s like that/Sucker M.C” and their success and “push” of the artform is still very much respected.

In the mid 80’s Hip-Hop was twisting in many different positions. New variants were sprouting from the main root. There were big tunes like Kraftwerk’s “Tour De France” andShannon’s “Let the music Play” which were examples of electro funk and freestyle or Latin Hip-Hop, but the so called pure shi8t was still being represented.

 A young, lean and hungry cat full of testosterone came forward in ‘84 with his debut “I need a Beat” and shook up the game. He was James Todd Smith, or LL Cool J as most people know him. LL was tight, but other cats were approaching it a bit differently. Folk like Doug E Fresh – the original beat box- and the group Whodini who dropped their album- “The Escape”(with classics like Friends, The Freaks come out at night and 5 minutes of Funk) also repped hard in ‘84.

The group UTFO also came out in ‘84 with “Roxanne Roxanne” and created the response trend, estimates are given that between 50-100 responses came off of that song. Another significant record released in late ’84 was 2 Live Crew’s “It’s gotta be Fresh”. This record, from down south, birthed the Miami Bass sound. In ’84 The Fat Boys were also around doing their thing and they became known as the most comical characters in Hip-Hop. Yea, Hip-Hop comics; something hardly seen in present times.

Fast forward to 1985. Many call this the last great year of Old school Hip-Hop. It was before the advent of overblown sampling. In ’85 RUN DMC collaborated with ‘70’s rockers Aerosmith and came with “Walk this way” and the early rumblings of  “gangsta rap” began with a track called “Batterram” by Toddy Tee.

A massive hit in ’85 was by the sexy Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam with their joint “I wonder if I take you home” causing intense reactions on dance floors. But it was Doug E Fresh who owned that year with his big tunes “La Di Da Di” and “The Show” which took Hip-Hop in a new direction.

In my opinion the years 1986 -1989 are the pinnacle years in Hip-Hop. I say this because so many important groups emerged in this time and so many other things came into fruition that pushed the culture along. 

In ’86 DJ Polo and Kool G Rap made their debut with “It’s a Demo b/w I’m Fly” produced by Marley Marl. The shi8t Kool G Rap was spitting back then could still rock crowds today. The Juice Crew and Boogie Down productions went to battle with “The Bridge” and “The Bridge is over” ,  and MC Lyte stepped into the mix with “Cram to understand”. Salt & Pepa represented for the females as well with their joint “Push it” and the Beastie Boys released “License toIll”. But without a doubt, the debut of Eric B and Rakim with “Eric B is President.” takes the cake and when they dropped the full length album in ’87 – “Paid in Full” everybody and they Mama was checking for this dynamic duo.

In ’87 rap began to spread strong on the West Coast with Ice T dropping an album that did some high numbers and got him a lot of criticism. Ice T showed that life on the West Coast was different from the East.  One of the most influential, controversial and revolutionary groups in Hip-Hop also stepped up in ‘87, this was the mighty Public Enemy, mixing hardcore rap with strong socio-political messages they were a shock to the system of America.

In 1988 MTV created a show dedicated to all things Hip-Hop with Yo! MTV Raps and the Source Magazine printed its first issue. NWA released “Straight Outta Compton and Slick Rick came with “Children’s Story.”

In 1989 came the birth of Hippy-Hop with the Native Tongue collective emerging. Artists that comprised this collective were people like Queen Latifah and the groups De La Soul and the Jungle Brothers. Their music promoted tolerance, respect, fun and harmony a sharp contrast from what many of their contemporaries where doing.

Okay let me, pause and admit something here. This info is readily available on the internet, that’s were I got it, and if you are interested it takes only a couple of seconds to google it up, but for me, writing this article and looking this stuff up, I must admit, was a lovely stroll down memory lane. Time traveling at its utmost. To me many of these songs conjure up images of what I was doing at the time: the chica I was checking, the different haircuts I had, the clothing styles me and my friends use to wear the different dances we use to do, the slang we use to sling, basically all the things that go into making you who you are. The memories, some of them lovely and bringing forth a chuckle, some not so lovely and bringing forth a sigh…ah the memories.

While all this was happening with the musical part of the movement the other aspects were also flourishing i.e. gaining notice among the masses and spreading.

Some of the first movies that featured break dancing where classics like Wild Style and Flashdance, these films showed audiences near and far what the kids in the NY ghettoes were up to and people took notice. Without a doubt the two main Breakdance crews at this time were the New York City Breakers and the Rock Steady Crew.

On the Graff side things were bubbling too. Although still illegal, some of the artsy fartsy crowd in the big-up art galleries in downtown Manhattan, and elsewhere, were becoming interested in the inner city art that they saw on the subway trains and on the sides of buildings, and art exhibitions started to feature some of these artists. In most Graf circles the name that often comes up at least once is the lord of Graf, Phase II who started taking Graf to another level in the 70’s.

Sadly many still think that the term “Hip- Hop” only pertains to the man or woman on the mic, when in fact Hip-Hop is the DJ, the M.C, the Graffiti artist, and the Breaker. The Four Elements. In the early days these elements intertwined and fed off of each other, the classic early 80’s movieBeat Streetshows this interaction in its entire splendor and is a good one to check if you’ve never seen it before. To me it’s fresh and innocent, undiluted by the bling  playa and gangster mentality of today.

Another movie that shows that Hip-Hop was bubbling not only on the East Coast but the West Coast as well was Breakin’ which came out around ’84 and featured two dancers- Turbo and Ozone- doing more of the “up top” dancing moves than the floor moves. Breakin’ also featured a young Ice T with his big hit of the moment “Reckless”.

THE ESSENCE

The simple answer to the question “What is the essence of Hip-Hop?” is that Hip-Hop is the DJ, M.C, The Breaker, the Graf-artist….but it goes deeper than that Hip-Hop is a culture a way of existing and expressing. It permeates the way you walk, talk, dress and view the world. It shapes the way you interact with others and is the soundtrack of your triumphs, dreams, wishes and frustrations. It’s not just something you listen to. Folk who embody the essence do more than just listen to the music they are a part of it. They are involved in the creation of all or parts of the whole. They follow the dramas and characters of it like house wives do soap operas. They discuss it and debate on certain aspects of it and they do so regularly. Simply put, it’s their religion and some folk are downright fanatical

In my life I have encountered quite a few individuals who I would say embodied the essence of Hip-Hop. My involvement with Hip-Hop culture dates back to 1984 that’s when I first became aware of it, when I bought my first album (Kurtis Blow “The Brakes”). It was new and the thing to do and I was like 14 years old and had a bit more independence. I can recall that summer clearly. 

Break dancing on a beach inBarbadoswith my cousin and some friends, in many ways that was my coming of age summer, we formed a lil crew called the Renegades, nothing much just playing around. After that summer I was in a crew with the boys from my neighborhood a crew called Rock City Crew although we were nowhere close to a city we were island boys after all. We took it a little more seriously though, battling other crews at downtown nightclubs, behind grocery stores when they were closed on the weekends, and on school compounds, moving with a roll of congoleum and a boom box we were ready.

Some of the people in my crew were my cousin Russell who was crazy on the floorwork, his specialty was swipes and the windmill. He would get so high and he was quick, nice and smooth with it. Then there were the brothers Thorne, Nigel and Ian, who were both deep into it. Nigel was the up-top man and had the perfect waves, and Egyptian Tuts, while Ian was a jack of all trades Djing and MCing along with the dancing. I remember many nites just sitting out on their front wall trading line for line scenes from  Beat Street which we had memorized or chilling in their front room listening to their old man’s  LP’s and 45’s.

There comes a time however in every teenager’s life when nothing else matters but the opposite sex and during this time I must admit that Break dancing took a back seat. When I moved to theU.S.in ’89, I was into other music as well as Hip- Hop. Going through college in the early ‘90’s I remember the different fads and dances that came, like the Polka dots and shiny black shoes and the -“ouch”- MC Hammer pants. Dances like the wop and the cabbage patch and others with names I can’t recall. I even remember riding around one Friday with my boy Harv, skipping class, just playing Dr. Dre’s The Chronic over and over again, killing the cassette.

It was only after my college days when I moved back toJacksonville,Floridathat Hip-Hop moved squarely back into my focus. Living there I met many folk who breathed it- too many to name- DJ’s with vast collections of vinyl who made beats and played at different clubs.  MC’s, with immense skill, trying, giving it all they had, honing their craft and believing the pie in the sky dream that they would get that ever elusive record deal. Breakers, full of black and blues who still pushed their bodies to the limit striving to execute that perfect move; and Graf-artists with Burners of intricate detail and tags on many surfaces throughout the city.

Along with some friends, I started a monthly Hip-Hop show called Elevations and tried to do some positive things with it. We strived to promote the culture and give it a home where it could grow, where cats (and kittens) could sell their independent product and make contacts. We also made it a point to hit folks-especially the youngsters- over the head with some new and innovative, fun ideas and also tried to provide a forum where it could get political and make changes. But more than anything Elevations was a show where the four elements could exist.  Some cool things happened and some things that weren’t so cool as well, such is life.

Lately I been working on a Play and the four Elements is one of the main ingredients in it, so I’m still doing my thing. From vinyl- to cassette- to C.D.- to MP3…..things change, that’s one fact that remains the same. But in my mind the essence of Hip-Hop is not in the tools, the trends, the flash and the posturing. Hip-Hop is in the people who live it, and when I say live it I mean they turn to it when they are up or down, not necessarily to make money off of it, although that is not a bad thing, but the rewards are basic….you do it because you enjoy it.

You hear a song, or create a song, or see a performance that gives you a lil energy boost and gets you through a tough day. You observe or create a tight Graff piece and you feel good, simple. You check a Breakdancer, or bust a move yourself, and you are still thinking about it many days later. Alone in your room you scribble verses down in your notebook and share with your bro and you both get a chuckle or little enlightenment.

On the turntables- 1 and 2- you are totally in the zone and if you at a club you get a wonderful feeling seeing the people respond to your selections, but if you are alone it’s cool  too ‘cause you totally immersed in it. With nothing in your pocket and hunger pains in your stomach you throw up your tag on a wall just to let folk know “Heh, I’m here…and I am Hip-Hop….”     

gjrome@hotmail.com

sheltonhull@gmail.com; August 19, 2011

Kim and Kelley Deal at 50: Belated Notes

Kim and Kelley Deal, ca. 1995

Kim Deal was born June 10, 1961 inDayton, Ohio. Her twin sister, Kelley, was born 11 minutes before. Dayton remains their primary base of operations, though you never know where either might be in the world on a particular day. The twins have pursued their own agenda in the music world, and what they may have lacked in ridiculous stacks of cash, they have made up for with a reliable brand name and a loyal fan base that has avidly followed their work for almost 25 years now, in countless incarnations.

For me, the Breeders were my introduction into the music of that era. What was once just called “alternative rock” splintered into shimmering shards of specific sounds that had their own imprimatur. The indie labels stayed afloat despite the most predatory practices of commercial radio and the major labels, which actively colluded to freeze out all kinds of independent and locally-generated content from radio systems and retail outlets alike for years; independent record stores and low-power stations around the country were driven out of business, in favor of big-box retailers and centrally-planned radio systems that used illegal and unethical methods to dominate, for a while.

Luckily, the combination of MTV, public radio and college radio was enough to keep this stuff going long enough for the technology to catch up with the ideas. Now the artists exist on a roughly equal (or at least roughly equalized) playing field. Another key factor was the success of certain artists not only in their own projects, but in advancing the people’s understanding of what music is. The obvious example, in regard to the Deal sisters, is Kurt Cobain (1967-1994). The leader of Nirvana was the most high-profile exponent of that basic DIY ethic he internalized from his studies of punk music, and he put those values to work on behalf of his peers.

The man was vastly more intelligent than he generally gets credit for. He wasn’t just an expert on the pantheon of modern rock music to that point, besides aspects of folk and blues, he’d put those ideas to work. It’s almost unthinkable that there wasn’t some degree of calculation to the band’s sound, at least subconsciously; he knew what fans of the future wanted to hear, because he was one of those fans himself. That much is clear from the albums; subsequent bootlegs and box-sets have fleshed out the body of Cobain’s experimentation. Much of his actual methodology was simply adapted from other sources then combined to create a synthesis of sorts.

He was always not only gracious about his influences, but actively effusive in putting them over to his fans and in the media. Cobain was an early master of what GQ magazine might once have called the “symbiotics of dress”. He is commonly associated with flannel shirts, cords and cardigan sweaters, all of which have remained in fashion ever since, but his real trick was using band t-shirts. It was a simple thing, really: He just always made sure he was representing some band he liked whenever he was in a situation where he might be photographed or videotaped, which was pretty much all the time for a little over two years. It may not have been deliberate, at first, or consciously articulated; it was part of his personal aesthetic, and he was rigorous about not being too altered by fame. But there are stories of photo shoots where he would refuse to button his shirt, so that whatever shirt he was wearing would end up on, say, the cover of Rolling Stone, or on “Saturday Night Live”. He wasn’t the first person to do that, surely, but he raised it to the high hipster art form it has now become.

Cobain famously derided his hit “Smells Like Teen Spirit” as being his failed attempt to write a Pixies song; it makes sense that he would also be a proponent of the Breeders. He was once quoted to that effect: “The main reason I like them is for their songs, for the way they structure them, which is totally unique, very atmospheric. I wish Kim was allowed to write more songs for the Pixies, because ‘Gigantic’ is the best Pixies song, and Kim wrote it.” The Breeders opened for Nirvana numerous times, including his last US tour before his tragic and unnecessary death in April 1994. If he were alive today, he would probably be very pleased with the way things turned out for music and the musicians he liked.

The “Breeders” brand-name, which is of course gay slang for heterosexuals, dates back to around 1986, when the Deals were a 25 year-old duo act making their way in the Dayton music scene. Almost nothing exists, in terms of recordings from that period, other than a cover of “I Believe In Miracles” that gets right at the sweetness of their vocal style. The Deals remain among the most prolific exponents of two-part harmony in modern music, a characteristic that helped define their first album, Pod (1990) and which has stayed a vital part of their tool-kit. Over the past 20 years, as the sisters have matured and their music become even more idiosyncratic, their harmonies have helped make their later albums undisputed classics of 21^st century indie rock.

After Kelley Deal’s drug bust, and the court-ordered rehab that ended the intial Breeders push in the mid-‘90s, it was generally assumed that the Deals’ days as a single creative unit were gone for good. Kim formed a group called The Amps, releasing Pacer in 1995; The Kelley Deal 6000 released Go To the Sugar Altar in 1996 and the seminal Boom Boom Boom!—which is probably the single-best non-Breeders record that either Deal produced—in 1997. I recall posing the question to Kelley Deal when her band played the old Moto Lounge inJacksonville that year (where another all-time favorite, the Crustaceans, opened up), and she had no idea, either.

Rumors of a possible return, and their fans’ desperate desire for a new Breeders record, lingered for over five years, until it seemed like the Deals’ place in history was as just one of the many one-hit wonders of that decade, “Cannonball” and a bunch of stuff that only hardcore fans knew or cared anything about. But then, out of nowhere, the Breeders returned with a vengeance, making up for lost time and reestablishing themselves in an industry that had changed dramatically in the intervening years. The phrase “Title TK” basically means the project has no title yet, but one will be added later; it was, in essence, a perfect title for an album that almost everyone in the world thought would never see the light of day. It was released in May 2002, at a time when cultural matters were widely overshadowed by politics and war.

For me, it was tonic for tumultuous times. By the time I had the pleasure of seeing them perform live in Chicago in 2002 (where I actually got to shake their hands, Kelley’s for the second time), the Breeders had coalesced into their contemporary form. The old rhythm section of bassist Josephine Wiggs and drummer Jim McPherson (both of whom were key to the visionary sonic success of “Cannonball”) had moved on during the band’s extended hiatus. Their replacements were Mando Lopez and Jose Medeles, bandmates who’d met the Deals in Los Angeles, and third guitarist Cheryl Lyndsey. Their professionalism took a lot of pressure off the sisters, who were now able to focus on their voices and the actual songwriting. The writing on Title TK was some of the best of the era.

The Deal Sisters, recording "Mountain Battles", 2007.

The Mountain Battles LP (2008) and the Fate 2 Fatal EP (2009) were hardly as accessible as Title TK, but continued the band’s hot streak with all the components Breeders fans had come to expect: cute, catchy sing-along tracks replete with those golden harmonies, rendered with a fidelity of their “No Wave” system. My most salient thoughts on these recordings were rendered in a review elsewhere, but I’ll note here that, like Pod and Title TK, the latter material has held up quite well.

It’s unclear when then next Breeders album will be released, or even how much has been recorded so far. But, unlike in the ‘90s, one can rest easily knowing that there will surely be another album in the next couple years, and hopefully many more. The fact that the Deals are still making compelling, credible rock and roll as they enter their sixth decade seems almost miraculous. But, then again, Sonic Youth never stopped; neither have the Beastie Boys. If the Breeders approach this new decade anything like how they approached the last one, it should be really interesting to watch. So, even though this comes two months late, Happy Birthday to Kim and Kelley Deal!

sheltonhull@gmail.com; August 16, 2011

The death of Amy Winehouse (1983-2011): Alternative Views

At this moment, it is commonly assumed that singer Amy Winehouse (1983-2011), who was arguably the finest singer the emerge in the 21^st century to date, died from either a drug overdose or a lethal combination of drugs, mixed with alcohol and consumed the night before she was found dead in her London apartment. That would make perfect sense, given her notorious history of dangerous drug abuse. But since she’s famous, of course not everyone is satisfied with that explanation. No matter what happened to her, it’s a goddamn shame and a loss to humanity, but as a public service, we’ll now parse the wealth of conspiracy theories that have emerged in recent days:

*Amy Winehouse accidentally drank herself to death: At her eulogy, her father make what many regard as a spectacularly delusional claim: That Amy Winehouse had been clean of drugs for three years prior to her death, and was only working to conquer alcoholism. The woman was known to consume massive amounts of alcohol, particularly vodka, enough to easily kill a woman her size. The list of British musicians to go out that way is a long one, including Jimi Hendrix (allegedly), Bon Scott and John Bonham.

*Amy Winehouse committed suicide: Although everyone who knew her says she was in good spirits in the days prior to her death—the phrase “happier than ever” is used a lot—surface appearances can be deceiving, especially when dealing with someone who started some days by slamming vodka shots. She had just broken up with boyfriend Reg Traviss earlier in the summer; despite his great grief and his kind words of remembrance, there is no evidence of any reconciliation. Her “comeback” tour ended in boos and tears within a few minutes of her first show. The last four years were really rough for her, and one can easily see how these dual setbacks might have sent her over the edge.

*Amy Winehouse was murdered, either by her bodyguard(s) or people who were partying with her the night before she died, for unknown reasons: Official reports say that her bodyguard was the last person to see her alive, when he asked her not to play her drums so loud in the early-morning hours; he later said he heard her walking around after that. Kelly Osborne claimed to have spoken with her for nearly an hour that night, saying she seemed completely fine; it is unclear whether that conversation happened before or after she’d spoken with the bodyguard. At any rate, he found her dead hours later, twice. He saw her unconscious in bed early that morning, assumed she was sleeping, and left her room; it’s unclear at this writing whether he got close enough to confirm that she was still alive at that point. He returned a few hours later, found her unresponsive and called the authorities, who reportedly confirmed her death within five minutes of her arrival. One report said she had “signs of life” initially, but who knows what that means. Either way, the bodyguard needs a thorough interrogation, and perhaps waterboarding.

*Amy Winehouse was killed at the direction of her record label because she was worth more dead than alive: Her recordings have dominated online retail sales in the week after she died, and one can expect that if (more likely when) the new record is released, it will probably sell millions of copies and win a number of Grammy Awards, bookending a brief-but-bounteous career. It’s thus ironic that she’d delayed the long-awaited project for years, first while publicly battling her demons and failing to write new material on schedule, and then because she was yet satisfied with the finished product. She had begun her disastrous final tour before even releasing the album, which is somewhat unusual for an artist her stature; it’s unclear if her legal issues would have even allowed her to perform in theUnited States, her biggest market. Canceling the tour after the meltdown inBelgrade may have cost millions.

What gives this theory legs (well, Amy Winehouse-sized legs) is that is has some basis in history. Courts are still working to establish exactly how and why Michael Jackson was given a fatal drug combination, either by his doctor, himself or some unknown other person. And evidence is slowly accumulating to support the theory that Hendrix’s death was engineered by his then-manager, the villainous Mike Jeffrey, who feared Hendrix was soon to fire him and who himself died in a shady plane crash just three years later.

*Amy Winehouse was deliberately given bad drugs: Anonymous friends of Winehouse reported seeing her buy cocaine, ecstasy and/or heroin from someone the night before she died, and speculated that bad ecstasy was the culprit. One presumes the London Metropolitan Police have made all efforts to indentify said dealer and roust him about sufficient to confirm or deny those theories, but nothing has been said publicly yet. Winehouse was an experienced drug user with a massive tolerance, but may have displayed the kind of carelessness that often comes with addiction, not taking much care to scrutinize her drugs or the people she got them from. But still, if you’re a drug dealer, and you’ve got a customer who’s worth millions and really likes drugs, it makes no sense to give them anything but the best. Then again, people can be malicious and stupid in spades; it’s not unthinkable that someone would poison Amy Winehouse just for shits and giggles, or to exact revenge against her or someone close to her. Things like that happen all the time.

*Amy Winehouse was killed to manipulate public opinion on the Drug War: A common conspiracist view of celebrity death, one that is not entirely absurd. We are all now familiar with the lengths to which governments will go to manipulate public opinion, and the British are, well, the British. Winehouse’s death brings the issue of drug abuse and addiction to the forefront of public debate. Her father reportedly noted in his eulogy that drug addicts in theUK must face a two-year-long waiting list for rehab treatments, unless they can afford the private clinics his daughter made such famous use of. For the singer of “Rehab” to die just weeks after checking out of one of the finest such facilities in the world looks bad for the whole industry.

*Amy Winehouse was killed by Casey Anthony, perhaps by accident: Maybe she switched-out Winehouse’s vodka for chloroform? The woman has not been seen since she was released from jail in late July, and some feel that she is capable of anything. If there is anyone in the world who might be sympathetic to a young woman who’s been verbally assaulted by commercial media for years, it would be Amy Winehouse. Anthony could probably not walk 1,000 feet in any direction, anywhere inAmerica, without being spat on, beaten or killed outright, so a foreign destination would make sense. My guess, of course, would beMexico; Casey Anthony would probably make a damn good gun moll for some media-savvy cartel boss. That would be epic.

*Amy Winehouse was killed to distract people in advance of another major terrorist attack in the US or Britain: The possibility of such attacks have been teased almost steadily for years, but reached a new peak following the death of Osama bin Laden; it was suggested that the announcement of such would serve as the trigger for terror cells already planted at strategic places in the West. So far, the only thing that’s happened was the atrocity committed against the people ofNorway, which at present shows no outward indication of being connected to al-Qaeda or any known affiliates. Which leads to an extended discussion of this, perhaps the most controversial and convoluted concept of them all:

*The death of Amy Winehouse is somehow connected to the terrorist attacks in Norway, which occurred the day before she died: This is an interesting theory, and not just because I made it up myself for sport. It links easily to many of the other possibilities raised elsewhere. Like all of us, she presumably found out about the attacks on the news; it dominated the BBC for most of her last 48 hours on Earth. Even the most cynical viewer would be sickened, seeing the aftermath of a mass-murder of children on a steady loop, and someone as sensitive as her might have taken it even worse. Maybe she partied even harder to distract herself from those scenes of horror.

But there’s a more unsavory aspect to this theory: What are the odds that her death is directly related? It’s now emerging that suspect Anders Brevik has connections toBritain, where he claims to have been recruited into some shady cabal in 2002. It is unclear when he was last there, but he claims to have been planning the attacks for nine years, even renting a farm in order to stockpile weapons, explosives and the fertilizer used to build the truck-bomb that rockedOslo. He claimed that there were many others connected with his movement, and that other attacks were in the works. Did Anders Brevik ever meet Amy Winehouse? Was she acquainted with any of the Britons who collaborated with Brevik? We will never know.

*Amy Winehouse died of natural causes as yet unexplained: Probably the most unlikely scenario of them all, which speaks to how hard she rolled, but possible. Initial autopsies were inconclusive; had she been murdered, suffered a heart attack or stroke, etc., that would have been revealed immediately. Toxicology reports are not available at this writing, but the intense public interest in Ms. Winehouse’s demise ensures a speedy yet thorough turnaround. Her father claimed she suffered from emphysema due to heavy smoking of crack and/or meth and/or tobacco. She may have suffocated herself during the kind of deep, frenetic sleep that follows a lot of partying; other media suggest that she may have suffered a seizure, possibly delirium tremens.

*We will never know exactly why Amy Winehouse died: An Ambiguous ending to a life that, to many people, just didn’t make any sense. She would have thus share yet another link to the great Robert Johnson, a pioneer of the Delta Blues and one of the most influential musicians in all of history, whose suspicious death (commonly thought to be retaliatory poisoning) inaugurated what has now become known as the “27 Club”. If the toxicology reports don’t reveal anything conclusive, it’s likely the trail will go stone-cold; Winehouse was cremated immediately after her funeral. Rest In Peace!

sheltonhull@gmail.com; July 27, 2011

Money Jungle: Generational Warfare

Generational Warfare

Duval County students have no allies in the political system.

One thing the whole world has learned about Florida in recent years is that you can pretty much do anything you want to children and get away with it. Now, I’m not just talking about our pathological coddling of social predators, but a political structure that makes our young people easy subjects for negative influences and anti-social behavior. At its root is the state’s criminally negligent approach to public education.

The latest round of budget cuts include approximately 256 positions across the county, cuts not limited just to teachers. Student-athletes, whose precious summertime should have been spent in study, at practice or just hanging out with their friends, have been reduced to begging on the streets for money that the private sector should have ponied up instantly. The fact that they haven’t speaks to the genuine contempt adults have for the children of this community.

We have underfunded education for longer than many readers have been alive. We have stuck them with a worthless curriculum and rearranged teaching practices to prepare them for standardized testing that is not only inapplicable to the real world, but whose very existence is mostly the result of blatant political corruption on local, state and national levels. We’ve cut arts, music and sports, which are essential to the shaping of young minds and the building of interpersonal bonds that last a lifetime, while also deemphasizing trade and technical education at a time when America’s physical economy is dissipating faster than blunt smoke in a wind tunnel.

We’ve done all these things, knowing full well what the result would be, because we were warned, exhaustively, at every step along the way. For years, children who saw the raw deal they had been given, and reacted appropriately, were labeled as “disruptive” or tagged with the various fake DSM-IV disorders—ADD, ADHD, OCD, etc.—dictated by Big Pharma, and then what? They were drugged, in the millions, creating an entire generation of addicts, prostitutes and potential mass-murderers. The kids were pilled-up to conceal the comprehensive failure of their parents, their teachers and their political leaders. And now that it’s too big to conceal anymore, the decision has been made to just eliminate them altogether, by torpedoing the public school system.

Obviously, much of the blame goes to Tallahassee and our pathetic joke of a Governor, but this was happening for years, long before anyone had heard of Rick Scott. For me, this goes on everyone: teachers’ unions, PTAs and the private sector, the school board and administrators, all elected officials including this governor and his predecessor. We also fault a Democratic Party that laid down for Scott, offering no resistance while he blatantly bought the governorship. He makes a convenient scapegoat, and rightfully so, but it’s not like anyone, anywhere, has an alternate vision. He was elected by a majority of voters who all knew exactly what he stood for. Now the children get to see what their parents are really good for—specifically, nothing. That is a form of education.

The entire Board should resign, and maybe the Superintendant, too. I’m not talking about the rank-and-file DCPS employees, who are already suffering and will suffer even more in the future. The seven elected School Board members are all nice folks, but they all violated their oaths and their campaign promises to help improve education. Even though funding was cut, their allocation of funds was terrible, wasteful and contributed to the political environment that allowed such cuts to be forced onto an unwilling citizenry.

Hell, if they’d resigned sooner, it might have been possible to offset the budget cuts for a few more months. But instead, they sat back on their taxpayer-padded asses and pled powerlessness, as they voted to deliberately induce hard times on parents, teachers and students countywide. Not one even had the decency to resign in either protest or shame, because nobody has any shame in Florida.

Whether they like it or not, they are now part of the problem. And now, having forfeited all credibility, they can never be part of the solution, because Tallahassee knows they’ll lay down on-command; their ability to legislate effectively has been broken. The good news is that four of the seven seats are up for grabs in 2012, right after they sign off on the next wave of budget cuts. Districts 1 (Martha Barrett), 3 (WC Gentry), 5 (Betty Burney), and 7 (Tommy Hazouri) constitute a majority stake; Burney and Hazouri are term-limited, so their seats are open.

Students should also consider the idea of organizing and starting the new school year with a mass walk-out in the first week. When the adults prove incapable of protecting their children’s interests, then the kids need to go into business for themselves. That is the Free Market at work!

sheltonhull@gmail.com; July 25, 2011

 

DVD Review: Martha Argerich/Mischa Maisky

Martha Argerich & Mischa Maisky—Luzerner Sinfonieorchester/Neeme Jarvi (Accentus Music)

The world’s greatest living classical pianist, Martha Argerich, celebrated her 70^th birthday this June 5, and having beaten cancer years ago, she shows no sign that age has caught up with her. In fact, age can barely see her at all, she’s so far ahead, and that has always a trait common to her creative endeavors. After studying with the famed teacher and performer Friedrich Gulda (who made some daring forays into the jazz world decades ago that have aged quite well themselves), Argerich made a cannonball splash into the public eye with an award-winning recitals at Geneva and Bolzano in 1957, then Warsaw in 1965 and the ripples she made have continued rolling into the 21^st century.

To commemorate the occasion, Accentus Music has released a DVD of a concert recorded in Switzerland on February 9-10. She is joined by longtime collaborator Mischa Maisky (born 1948), quite arguably the world’s greatest living cellist; they are backed by the Lucerne Symphony Orchestra (founded 1806), with guest conductor Neeme Jarvi (born 1937), for a program that mixes old and new with seamless precision.

For the last 30 years, Argerich the musician has existed in two distinct yet still mostly overlapping forms—as the grand dame doyenne of the 88 keys in our modern world, and also as a major facilitator of the musical arts in multiple countries. In a sense, she could be considered somewhat analogous to women like Marian McPartland, Cosima Wagner or even Pannonica de Koenigswarter or Lorraine Gordon, all of whom played a role in developing the most important music of the past 100 years; Argerich is herself a beneficiary of their contributions. She has provided instruction, encouragement and her money to three generations of classical musicians, in addition to the priceless benefits of association with her name, whether in collaboration with Argerich or in conjunction with the various events she is associated with. Argerich serves as president of the International Piano Academy Lake Como, which offers top-shelf training for seven selected pianists per year, and as General Director of the Argerich Music Festival and Encounter in Beppu, Japan, which she founded 15 years ago. Her annual performances at the Lugano Festival are always noteworthy for the new talent she collaborates with.

Argerich has also proven a boon to the more non-musical aspects of the industry, especially in terms of recording. Whether done in-studio or live on-stage, the unique technical challenges involved in getting good sound from a classical session have helped lead the charge in the evolution of recording technology, particularly as it relates to a) the development of stereo sound on the records, and b) the structural features of the records themselves, as the industry moved from 78s to LPs to compact disc and beyond. The jazz world was doing similar work simultaneously, and the resulting methods were applied to other genres, thus making possible the extraordinary, world-changing sonic revolution wrought by rock and roll, R&B and soul.

A free agent from day one, Argerich has recorded for almost every major classical label, and many of the minor ones; only RCA-Victor andColumbiasomehow missed the boat. While it is unclear if the effect was deliberate, but she remains a top seller for all those labels, generating revenue that has allowed those labels to produce more music in an industry where most new albums sell a few thousand copies at best. Some of this material might not have been possible without those few extra dollars—what I like to call “the Norah Jones Effect” (as demonstrated with the resurgence of Blue Note Records). In this manner, countless artists have further profited from their connection to her.

In the case of Accentus, a fairly new label based out ofLeipzig,Germanywith only about ten DVDs out so far, the release of an Argerich disc is crucial to a strong start for the company. While they also carry discs by heavyweights like Claudio Abbado, Daniel Barenboim, Ricardo Chailly, Joshua Bell, Pierre Boulez and Evgeny Kissin (some of which are previewed on this disc), there is only one Martha Argerich—no one sells like her, and it’s possible that no one ever will again.

While barely out of girlhood, Martha Argerich dove headlong into a classical music world that was then still populated with the giants of 20^th century music. Leading orchestras were being conducted by the likes of Igor Stravinsky, Arturo Toscanini, Herbert von Karajan and others. The piano world was dominated by titans like Vladimir Horowitz, Sviatoslav Richter. New stars were coming along like Glenn Gould, Leonard Bernstein, Mitsuko Uchida, Van Cliburn and Earl Wild. She was, without question, one of the most beautiful women in the world then, but looks alone were not enough. The fact that she was so successful and so widely acclaimed amidst such a tough crowd attests to her skill, in particular her singular facility with the music of Frederic Chopin.

In my opinion (which is shared by others with infinitely more credibility than I), Martha Argerich is the greatest interpreter of Chopin’s music for solo piano than anyone since the composer himself. That fact will be the foundation of her legacy, but there is much more to her than that; she also reaped a mighty harvest from the seeds sown by the Russians Rachmaninoff and Prokofiev, whose works were mainly popularized by Richter and Horowitz. She has worked effectively in everything from solos and chamber groups to symphony orchestras, and is among the most-recorded artists of the past 50 years.

As one might expect, Argerich and the camera get along nicely. Once notorious for canceling concerts, she has been filmed in performance almost every time she actually performs. Every phase of her career has been thoroughly-documented, and in recent years she’s been the subject of several excellent documentaries. She bears much responsibility for the very existence of a “classical video” market; most companies involved with such material have their own Argerich material available.

The DVD reiterates its star’s diverse interests and wide-ranging capabilities. The programme, which runs nearly two hours total, includes pieces by Antonin Dvorak, Cesar Franck and Dmitri Shostakovich. But the concert’s centerpiece is the world premiere of Russian composer Rodion Shchedrin’s “Romantic Offering”, a piece commissioned and written for these specific performers; he had previously written a piece for Maisky’s 60^th birthday, in 2008.

The orchestra begins the set alone, without the featured soloists, sauntering through Dvorak’s “Scherzo capriccioso in D flat Major, Op. 66”. Argerich and Maisky then arrive together—with the latter wearing an incredibly shiny, puffy silver-grey shirt—to begin the Shchedrin piece, which runs about half an hour.

“Romantic Offering” opens in a moderate, ruminative vein, with the soloists working through the piece in public for the first time, before plunging into a sprightly second movement; Argerich’s mastery of the keyboard’s high-end is on display, as Maisky bows like a Muay Thai fighter, with his wild, wooly white hair flying around like he’s playing speed metal—and perhaps he is, in a sense. Talk about aging gracefully! It appears that neither he nor Argerich have lost a step. The horns strike a chord that pushes the reset button, before the whole orchestra jumps in, Argerich leading the way. Thrilling stuff, and probably the DVD’s highest point. The third movement meanders, aiming for a mood that isn’t quite evoked; hard to say whether the composition falters here, or if the band doesn’t quite mesh as well as in the previous movement. My guess is the former.

Following a round of applause and flowers presented, the principals (Argerich, Maisky, Jarvi and Shchedrin) exit stage right, returning for a brief curtain call. The bits of backstage interaction are always fun to see, in part because one sees so little of it. After a break (either an intermission, or more likely a cut to footage from the second concert), the group returns to play “Sonata for cello and piano in A Major” by Cesar Franck. To my ears, it sounds almost like Gershwin in parts, if not Aaron Copland.

The set concludes with the infamously splendid “Symphony No. 9 in E flat Major, Op. 70” by another Russian, Dmitri Shostakovich. The piece was written in celebration of the Russian victory in World War II, but was apparently suppressed because the music was deemed too happy for the solemn occasion—typical Soviet-era wrongheadedness. It’s a delightful piece of music, and the orchestra is at their best working these playful melodies and martial rhythms; Argerich and Maisky are not present. The woodwinds get to shine here, with a bespectacled lady oboist the star of the first movement.

Seizing on the expanded capabilities afforded by the format, the DVD also includes about 20 minutes of bonus documentary footage featuring Argerich, Maisky and Shchedrin. Entitled “Behind the Scenes At a World Premiere”, it’s an interesting look at a side of the business rarely visible to outsiders, and a nice way to wrap up a performance. It appears that Argerich’s golden years might be downright platinum.

sheltonhull@gmail.com; July 21, 2011

Review: “Coltrane On Coltrane”

Coltrane On Coltrane: the John Coltrane Interviews, by Chris DeVito. Chicago: A Capella Books (an imprint of Chicago Review Press ). 379 pp., illustrated.

The life and legacy of John Coltrane embodies the spirit of Teddy Roosevelt’s battle-tested axiom “Speak softly and carry a big stick”. Coltrane recorded extensively in all types of musical settings, but he didn’t seem to make a big deal about it. He just worked and worked, always pushing forward for the next step along what was arguably the most unique path of musical progress ever walked.

“Coltrane On Coltrane” features some 55 articles, essays and interviews related to Coltrane, authored by some of the best jazz writers of that era, including Stanley Dance, Leonard Feather, Ira Gitler, Ralph J. Gleason, Nat Hentoff, Frank Kofsky and Gene Lees. The appendix features interviews with people who knew the subject from his roots in North Carolina and his musical matriculation in the smoking-hot Philadelphia jazz scene of the 1940s and ‘50s.

Coltrane’s status as a tireless student of the game is on full display as he nearly aces one of Downbeat’s famous “Blindfold Tests”. (Incidentally, some day it would be really nice to have all of the blindfold tests collected in an anthology; it’s truly one of the most unique gimmicks ever conceived in the journalism business, and it’s surprising that more media in other genres, especially hip-hop, haven’t made fuller use of it.) One also reads a lot of his love for artists like Ravi Shankar and Ornette Coleman, as well as his perpetual struggle to find the perfect reed. We learn that Coltrane’s rapid mastery of the soprano sax was not nearly so effortless as it might have seemed; the embrochure was very different, and for years he expected to reach an eventual crossroads, forced to choose between horns.

We also learn more than ever before about his early years, and the long, winding road he took to immortality, thanks in part to old interviews with a former childhood friend and one of his first music teachers. A key thing to remember about Coltrane, a fact reiterated over and over through the text, is that he was never particularly satisfied with any of his recorded work. He viewed everything in terms of evolution and exploration; the records were often months or years behind the pace of his restless spirit, and he viewed the records more as souvenirs from his journey.

The text ends around 1965, just as the tumult surrounding “A Love Supreme” gave way to the overt controversy of his last few years, as Coltrane became the crown jewel of the avant-garde movement, with multiple drummers and large horn sections; the transition from McCoy Tyner to Alice Coltrane, and Elvin Jones to Rashied Ali, were not just symbolic of his shift, but vital aspects of it. There’s not much record of how Coltrane felt about himself or his music toward the end; all we know is that he did not stop until he was physically unable to work any more. One has always suspected that the diagnosis of liver cancer that he apparently received around that time may have spurred him to speed up his musical experiments, thus making the schism between past and future even more profound. The critics did what they always do when confronted with art that defies their ability to explain: they either attacked his music or ignored it. To think that John Coltrane was denied coverage in Downbeat for years is unthinkable today, yet that is how strongly his music affected people.

This book is such a well-executed labor of love that offering any criticism at all feels almost bitchy, but there are minor flaws that can be easily corrected in later editions or the paperback version. The painting of Coltrane on the cover is nice, but I’d rather see one of the many iconic images instead, to reinforce the seminal nature of the text; DeVito found several unpublished photos that could be used for this purpose.

Also, a discography and partial bibliography would be nice; since everyone who reads this book will likely be a serious Coltrane buff, such information would make it even easier to follow-up his words with his actions. Granted, Coltrane’s did a massive amount of work in his short life, and the subsequent 45 years have seen countless reissues and a flood of new material being released. Putting together comprehensive backmatter of this sort would have been a full-time job in itself, and one can easily imagine how exhausting DeVito’s job already was. Still, such material would have pushed the text beyond 500 pages and made this book truly indispensable. But, as it is, Coltrane On Coltrane is a must-read for all fans of the artist and the times he lived in. DeVito has done yeoman work, and the results are recommended without hesitation.

sheltonhull@gmail.com; July 1, 2011

 

 

To Swing, Wildly: Notes on The Flail

[Note: Like the piece following it, this was written for  the current Arbus, but tightness of space precluded its publication. This is more biographical, touching on their backstory and the dynamics of the festival gig this weekend; their excellent  "Live At Smalls" CD itself is reviewed below.]

The word “flail” commonly refers to a European device used alternately for threshing grain or thrashing people. Two lengths of wood or metal, joined with chain or rope, measured and made to suit specific tasks. We may recognize it most readily in the form of nunchaku, which have a variety of applications. In its verb form “flail” means “to swing wildly”, and it’s in that sense that The Flail can be regarded. The Flail: Live at Smalls (SmallsLIVE) is their fourth album, and it captures them at their very best.

The Flail play what could be called “mainstream” or “traditional” jazz: straight-ahead, build around a defined melody played by a frontline of trumpet and saxophone, with a consistently swinging rhythm section. But words can’t do justice to their attack, which is informed by the broad diversity of the members’ experiences. There is no leader, per se; it is a group of individuals working toward a common purpose.

Dennis Cook, of JamBase.com, notes: “Despite a name that suggests spastic movement this is measured, gorgeously executed and warm. … [They] move with seamless, telepathic grace.” Jazz great Kenny Barron (best-known for his work with Stan Getz) wouldn’t have to pay a dime to gain entry to any jazz gig anywhere, so when he says “I’d pay good money to see these guys play,” it carries extra weight.

Most of their songs are their own compositions, though they’ve done excellent interpretations of Monk’s “Trinkle Tinkle”, Duke Ellington’s “Oclupaca”, “Remember” by Irving Berlin and “The Chooch” by George Garzone (who has employed several of the band members). The new album is entirely original, with three of the eight tunes written by bassist (and Jacksonville native) Reid Taylor, including the lead burner “Mr. Potato Bass” and the closing “Under the Influence of Stereolab”.

They specialize in loping mid-tempo grooves, evoking a mood of smoothness and sophistication—think luxury car commercial—but prove adept at any pace. Note “Better Watch What You Wish For” or “Light At the End of the Tunnel” (both by pianist Brian Marsella), which phase through entire moods so quick you barely notice it. “We’re Not Out of the Woods Yet” sees a New Orleans second-line beat give way to soul-jazz harmonies Roland Kirk would savor. The overall picture is of a very mature, forward-thinking group of jazzmen rooted in the tradition.

They have infused the word “flail” with fresh new meaning, just as they have the concept of jazz quintet, which was once revolutionary but was long since so leaden from the baggage of a previous era that modern musicians often avoided it on purpose. With a frontline of tenor and trumpet, and piano-bass-drums rhythm, the challenge is to define a signature sound within a format where the listener has preconceptions based on what they have heard before. It’s the same challenge faced by a rock quartet of guitar-bass-drums-charismatic front-man or, for that matter, a symphony orchestra.

Reid Taylor, whose 80 year-old French bass anchors the rhythm section, made an interesting point about their dynamic. Speaking via phone from New York, while preparing for a gig at Fat Cat later that day, he noted that all the members of the band maintain full schedules working in all kinds of groups besides The Flail, and that’s true for their colleagues. The critical and commercial emphasis has shifted from the bands themselves to the individual—there are fewer “sidemen”, as such. This, ironically, strengthens the unit, as each member brings a lot of diverse experiences to the table. The same could be said for the jazz scene in Northeast Florida.

Born in Jacksonville in 1973, Taylorwas first drawn to music as a profession by the extremely influential electric bassist Mike Watt, formerly of a seminal punk band called the Minutemen. It was just a few years later that the influence of Charles Mingus inspired a shift toward the acoustic upright; he currently plays a French model built in the 1920s and uses gut-strings, as opposed to the newer steel strings used by some 80-90% of jazz bassists today. Taylorwas first trained by Steve Novosel while attending American University in Washington, DC; he later studied under the great Butch Warren for four years before he moved to NYC to train under Steve Irwin.

After graduating, Taylor dove deeper into the deep pool of opportunity for a skilled bassist in the New Yorkscene, working for artists as diverse as bop baritonist Cecil Payne to avant-garde standard-bearer Charles Gayle. Besides his work in the Flail, he also does a weekly gig at the WestVillage’s Fat Cat Jazz Club with Ned Goold and plays in a noise-rock band called Gunnar; he also recorded an album of his own pop music under the nom-de-bass “Balk”. All in a day’s work.

It was while attending the New School for Jazz and Contemporary Music (founded 1986), that the members of the Flail first met and began working together in 2001. Trumpeter Dan Blankinship is fromRichmond,VA, and counts Wynton Marsalis and Lee Morgan as inspirations; he was classically-trained at the prestigious Peabody Conservatory before turning to jazz full-time. Tenor saxophonist Stephan Moutot moved toNew Yorkafter building a career in his nativeFrance. Pianist Brian Marsella hails fromPhiladelphia, which has produced countless jazz greats. Drummer Brian Zebroski was raised inPittsburghbefore training under masters like Billy Hart and Charlie Persip at New School; he’s also a member of the acclaimed Alex Skolnick Trio. (Hipster alert: he also played with Bonnie Tyler, of “Total Eclipse of the Heart” fame.)    

Over the years, the Flail has burnished their international appeal, starting inFrance. Moutot’s connections in his homeland’s music scene enabled him to open the door into one of the most passionate jazz markets in the world. Quoting their bio: “Over the course of several tours in France they have played to packed houses in Paris, Lyon, Grenoble, Renne, Ardeche, and Marseille; highlights include Jazz a Vienne (2002, 2004), the Marseille Festival du Jazz des Cinq Continents (2002, 2005), and the College d’Espagne at the Cite Universitaire Internationale de Paris (2009).” They’ve even played with rappers and b-boys in Villefontaine, recalling Max Roach’s work with Fab 5 Freddy and the New York City Breakers some 30 years ago. 2007 saw their debut in Madrid, where they hope to return this year.

This aspect of their aesthetic has evolved during the group’s decade together, dating back to the very onset of their output. Their first album, Live In France, was recorded during a concert in Grenoble (birthplace of Andre the Giant) in 2002; the second, Never Fear (2006), was recorded at Paris’ Acousti studios. Their self-titled third album was, like the newest one, recorded live at the venerable Smalls Jazz Club inNew York, which has hosted nearly every big name of the past 40 years at one time or another.

Much like the Village Vanguard, which is arguably the all-time greatest setting for jazz recording (with all due respect to the Columbia Records studios on 5^th Street, and Rudy Van Gelder’s living room in Hackensack, NJ), the character of Smalls comes through in the sound; a skilled listener could probably discern the location just by listening.

Over time, the band has come to prefer recording live, as it better captures the immediacy of their sound, from the nuances of improvisation to crowd response and the ambient noises that, in proper amounts, adds a texture to the music that no studio can. “There’s a lot of clinking glasses,” notes Taylor with a laugh.

And other musicians agree: The Flail’s is just one among many jazz albums recorded there in just the last few years. It’s a brilliant business model that other venues for live music could utilize to bring in extra revenue and get their name around to new customers. (The Knitting Factory had great success using this model in the ‘90s, in the process helping undergird the scene as it exists today.) Among those who appear on albums released by the club: Cyrille Aimee, Spike Wilner, Omer Avital, Bruce Barth, Ben Wolfe, Ari Hoenig, Jimmy Greene, Ryan Kisor, Kevin Haynes, Ethan Iverson, Jason Linder. That’s just a drop in the bucket, but it’s a very well-documented drop.

With the new album already generating strong critical buzz in pre-release, and shows already booked in three countries 2011 is looking to be the Flail’s biggest and busiest yet. Their performance at the Jazz Festival comes at the start of a summer that will take them well outside their NYC base to other hotspots like Baltimore, Boston, Chicago, Philadelphia and WashingtonDC. They are also building toward their first West Coast tour, which runs from Los Angeles up to Vancouver via Portland, Seattle, San Francisco, etc. And, of course, they will be returning toEurope.

It was a special thrill for Taylor to bring his group down to his former hometown for last year’s Jazz Festival, where they were booked in the 2pm opening slot on Sunday. This time, expect a more central spot, where audiences can see one of the rising young jazz bands in the country at a key point in their musical development. The fact that they view our festival as being as important as all this other stuff speaks to the role it plays—and can continue to play—in the jazz world. Hopefully they will make a regular practice of appearing here.

Figure 8: Expanding the Jacksonville Jazz Festival (In Eight Steps)

[Not sure if this had been posted before. Originally written for Arbus.]

As we prepare for yet another Jacksonville Jazz Festival, it’s worth noting what a great job has been done by the city’s Office of Special Events in moving festival activity from Metropolitan Park to the Laura Street corridor. The move made things much more scenic and accessible; it also helped spread the wealth to local businesses nearby. All involved will admit, though, that no amount of success is any reason to disregard the potential for even more in the years ahead.

The suggestions below are not just this writers. They result from years of chatter with people involved in every aspect of the festival business—musicians and festival bookers here and elsewhere, journalists, fans, bystanders. Everyone has an opinion, and if you’re patient enough to listen, great insight can be had. These concepts all involved very small outlay of money, if any at all, but can quickly grow festival business.

1.) Expand the whole scope of the festival: The old saying “Less is more” does not apply to the Jacksonville Jazz Festival. The huge success that it’s been in recent years should provide the impetus to make it even bigger, allowing organizers to book more artists over more days and generate even more revenue for the city, its citizens, and the jazz industry itself. The festival is already profitable, and it’s worth the money the city puts into it. But the brutal fiscal and political realities mean nobody can predict what may happen in the next few years. The Jazz Festival needs to be profitable, and there’s no reason why it can’t be. One thing we know about jazz fans, historically, is that they will pay whatever it takes to get the music they want to hear. Jazz impresarios (and their counterparts in the classical world) built the music industry as we know it—everything from mic placement to global distribution to the concept of systematized concert tours.

2.) Exploit connections to NYC, etc.: Historically, the jazz industry has been based inNew York City, ever since Louis Armstrong arrived there from Chicago in the mid-1920s. It remains so today: Most of the musicians, clubs, record labels and jazz media are there, including a literal ton of talent fromNortheast Florida. Every Jazz Festival should have a solid contingent of the hottest, freshest players from the Apple, to reestablish ours as one of the country’s great festivals.

3.) Push for more involvement from local media: As with everything involving local culture, local media remains the weak link. They need to be strongly encouraged to cover things like this, instead of constantly reaching out for negative stories. The personalities alone make for easy content, and it will probably spike ratings upward. All it takes is a few cameras roaming the area, and even visitors from other cities will instantly know that we take our jazz seriously.

4.) Reach out to the national media: Our Jazz Festival is one of the oldest and best in the country, and that point needs to be reiterated to the national jazz press, most of whom have no idea there’s a jazz scene here anyway.

5.) Scout statewide talent: As it stands, the Jacksonville Jazz Festival is the oldest and best-known in the state; we have connections in the jazz industry that the other cities can only dream of. Our festival should be a showcase for the best jazz talent in the southeast, in addition to our own and the big names from up north. By incorporating more regional talent, we will encourage more tourist traffic from those cities.

6.) Integrate the surrounding venues as part of the festival experience: The bars, clubs and restaurants of our Urban Core can play a vital role in expanding the festival’s scope. There are many fine jazz artists who may not command enough of a draw to warrant placement on the main stages, but their critical appeal is such that having them here sends a strong message about our commitment to the music. Most nights, the festival wraps up around 11pm (except for the ‘Round Midnight Jazz Jam on Saturday nights). It seems a big mistake to let those crowds die down, when we’ve got a captive audience ready to experience more of the city. Festival organizers should reach out to nightspots like TSI, Marks, Dive Bar, De Real Ting, Burrito Gallery, etc., and encourage them to do their own jazz booking for festival weekend. All that activity should be included as part of the festival lineup, with all-access passes gaining entry to these places (or, at the very least, a free drink).

7.) Make better use of the festival’s own history to sell its future: Ideally, the Jazz Festival’s history could be on permanent display somewhere downtown, like the Ritz or even City Hall.Jacksonville has hosted some of the greatest musicians of all-time, but that sterling record is inaccessible to anyone younger than a certain age. If our history was better-defined, it would be even easier to chart the city’s future.

8.) Use social media to direct traffic: Social media like Facebook, Twitter, YouTube and others cost virtually nothing, but their impact on business can be huge. Local artists and musicians, having had to develop in what amounts to a media vacuum, have already helped establish the value of such technologies; Facebook, in particular, renders local media irrelevant, as far as concert listings and such. The Jazz Festival should set up accounts with these sites and use them to direct traffic to various parts of the festival. Bret Primack’s eyeJazz.tv site is a great new resource. They want short, quickly-made videos of jazz activity, but not performance stuff; more like interviews with artists and fans and tours of venues. We’re already working on connecting with that site to show off more of the nuances of our jazz scene.

sheltonhull@gmail.com; April 8, 2011