Jazz for aficionados


Jazz for aficionados

I'm going to review records in my collection, and you'll be able to decide if they're worthy of your collection. These records are what I consider "must haves" for any jazz aficionado, and would be found in their collections. I wont review any record that's not on CD, nor will I review any record if the CD is markedly inferior. Fortunately, I only found 1 case where the CD was markedly inferior to the record.

Our first album is "Moanin" by Art Blakey and The Jazz Messengers. We have Lee Morgan , trumpet; Benney Golson, tenor sax; Bobby Timmons, piano; Jymie merrit, bass; Art Blakey, drums.

The title tune "Moanin" is by Bobby Timmons, it conveys the emotion of the title like no other tune I've ever heard, even better than any words could ever convey. This music pictures a person whose down to his last nickel, and all he can do is "moan".

"Along Came Betty" is a tune by Benny Golson, it reminds me of a Betty I once knew. She was gorgeous with a jazzy personality, and she moved smooth and easy, just like this tune. Somebody find me a time machine! Maybe you knew a Betty.

While the rest of the music is just fine, those are my favorite tunes. Why don't you share your, "must have" jazz albums with us.

Enjoy the music.
orpheus10
@frogman 

  Trentmemphis, checked out Freddy Cole @ JALC.  Very nice!  Unique stylist and very good band.  Thanks for the tip.

I’m intrigued by your comment re what people say about the Delta.  Would like your thoughts.

I just recently ran across Freddy, myself.  I dig him.  He's not trying to set the world on fire.  He just plays good music well.

The Delta is so dadgum complicated, it's hard to even know where to start.  And living practically my whole life on the *edge* of it, particularly as a white person, does not make me an expert.  Most particularly because I grew up in what's called a "sundown town."  But I did grow up cheek-by-jowl with it, in a small, rural town, in a family who didn't have any money and didn't even know anybody who *did* have any money.  I spent a lot of time on my grampa's farm, so I know the heat and the smell and the sweat of the cotton fields (and then the soybean fields and then the rice fields, with their clouds of mosquitos), up close and personal.  I know the levees and the ditches and the fence rows.  I know shotgun houses and dogtrot houses.  I know the religion of little, country churchhouses built by the same people who worship in them.  All of that was part of my raising.  It's very much a part of who I am.  Levon Helm and Johnny Cash are musicians I *immediately* and implicitly understood.  Race put me at one remove from Delta blues, but only one.  It was a different dialect, but still my native language.

When I hear people talk about my little part of the world, what they're saying usually *feels* untrue more than sounds untrue.  True as it may be, it's inaccurate.  I'm sure everyone feels that way when they hear an outsider talk about the place they're from.  It's just that the place I'm from happens to get talked about that way a *lot*.
   
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