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Dynamic Musical Duos

In the tribute to McCoy Tyner (post of 3/9/20), I referred to him and Bobby Hutcherson as a “dynamic duo”. This got me thinking about other such musical pairings. There are many, and what makes the best collaborations special varies tremendously.

Perhaps they push one another, or enhance each other’s strengths by contrast. It might be a case of talents that mesh so perfectly that they seem to have been born to play together. Maybe it’s just inexplicable. Whatever it is in any given case, the listener knows that when these two artists got together, live or in studio, magic happened.  

Here, then, are five dynamic duos to savor: two Blues, two Jazz, and one where Jazz and Blues meet.

Leroy Carr and Scrapper Blackwell

Already familiar with Leroy Carr? If so, you are (or are on your way to becoming) a Blues aficionado. Yet, he should be better known, as one of the greatest and most important early stars of the Blues. His songs have been covered, in whole or in part, by countless artists. Legendary singer/pianists, from Nat King Cole to Memphis Slim to Charles Brown to Mose Allison to Ray Charles and beyond, are in his debt.

Francis “Scrapper” Blackwell’s single-line runs on the guitar perfectly complemented Carr’s piano and vocals – making them the first duo who simply had to be included here. And what piano and vocals they were! Carr’s voice was a remarkably rich yet supple instrument. It might have been the envy of the smoothest crooners, if not being used to sing unflinching blues. Similarly, his piano playing, while firmly rooted in barrelhouse blues piano (the gut-bucket precursor to boogie-woogie), was somehow suavely sophisticated without giving an inch on grit.

Some call Carr the first urban blues musician. He and Blackwell both moved to Indianapolis as children, Leroy having been born in Nashville and Scrapper in Syracuse, South Carolina. Together, they created a sound less raw than early rural blues of the deep South, and paved the way for the plugged-in city blues that later evolved in Chicago and elsewhere. If not urban, they were certainly urbane.

Carr’s very first record, 1928’s “How Long, How Long Blues”, was a big hit for the time. There followed many songs that would take their place among classics of the Blues canon, and Carr wrote most of what he sang. Among them are “Hurry Down Sunshine”, “Midnight Hour Blues”, “Barrelhouse Woman”, “Southbound Blues”, the dance tune “Bobo Stomp” and “I Believe I’ll Make A Change”.

That last one, recorded 8/14/34, may well have inspired Robert Johnson’s “Dust My Broom” in 1936 (which later evolved into Elmore James’ signature song). It features superb lead guitar by Scrapper Blackwell. In truth, he was always more than an accompanist; every one of Carr’s greatest recordings was enhanced greatly by Blackwell’s telepathic interplay. There is some scholarly support for the notion that Scrapper had significant input in the composing as well.

To my ears, the masterpiece is “Blues Before Sunrise”.  It follows the Blues’ standard AAB format (opening line, repeated, then resolved by a closing line), but the lyricism, set to a majestic melody, is striking:

I have the blues before sunrise, with tears standing in my eyes    (X2)
It’s such a miserable feeling, a feeling I do despise…
Today has been such a long, old lonesome day (X2)
I’ve been sitting here thinking, with my mind a million miles away.

While there is grace, majesty, and poetry to his blues, Carr (like most songwriters) wrote about what he knew. His entire, brief life was spent in the Jim Crow era and his recording career (1928-35) straddled the Great Depression. The menace of violence is often present, sometimes front-and-center, and Carr’s lyrics celebrate his alcoholism. The juxtaposition of such content with his pleasing, skillful delivery can be as jarring as it is understandable.

When Carr sang he’d “rather be sloppy drunk than anything I know”, he apparently meant it. In “Hustler’s Blues” he sang, ”Whiskey is my habit; good women is all I crave” before matter-of-factly predicting “I do believe the two will carry me to my grave”. He was right about the whiskey; it shut his organs down in April of 1935, a month past his 30th birthday.

Buddy Guy and Junior Wells

Although they individually established themselves on the Blues scene, Buddy Guy and Junior Wells spent more time touring and recording together than any other dynamic duo mentioned here – despite periodic breaks. An album cover once referred to them as The Original Blues Brothers – an apt description, considering the dues they paid together through the years. I’ve seen Buddy Guy more often than any other musician or group. Nearly half of those shows were with Junior, even though he died 22 years ago, .

Each was a master of his instrument, and each sang more than well enough to be the lead star in a band. Any group they co-led was automatically an all-star band. On harmonica, most players in the generation following Little Walter Jacobs and Sonny Boy Williamson II (Rice Miller, as opposed to Sonny Boy I, John Lee Williamson) clearly followed one master or the other. Wells was the most intriguing blend of the two, combining Walter’s powerful, saxophone-like attack with Sonny Boy’s plaintive lyricism. Among guitarists, Buddy has no peer. Calling anyone “the greatest guitarist” is looking for trouble, of course. So, let’s just say he’s my favorite, because I’ve seen him play things no one else could conceive of, much less attempt.

Junior always struck me as a real character, and top billing seemed more important to him than to Buddy when they were together. Live, they handled it as Muddy Waters might have suggested: A set would begin with the band playing an instrumental or two. Then: “Are you ready for Star Time? Ladies and gentlemen, BUDDY GUY!” Buddy would make his entrance, sing a couple, and then say something like this: “It’s Star Time again. Put your hands together for JUNIOR WELLS!” Junior would sing three or four and then they’d alternate the rest of the set.

Here’s the thing: they did not sulk or go through the motions when not singing. Indeed, they each played their best behind the other. This might help explain why some of the best Buddy Guy records are Junior Wells albums. There are plenty; I’ll mention two.

Hoodoo Man Blues on Delmark (1965) is a landmark as the first urban blues album: (a) for Delmark records; (b) for Junior and Buddy; and (c) to capture a working Chicago blues band in studio as they would sound in a club. It’s Delmark’s #1 seller and appears regularly on “best ever” and “dessert island album” lists. Recommended tracks? Yes, all of them. (Amusing sidenote: early pressings list Buddy Guy as “Friendly Chap”, mistakenly thinking Chess would object.)

Some tracks on It’s My Life, Baby! on Vanguard were recorded live at Pepper’s Lounge in Chicago; others in studio. All capture Junior and Buddy at the top of their game. Even the rather silly “Stomach Ache” features phenomenal guitar by Buddy. The title track is Chicago blues as rip roaring jazz. The top highlight, though, is “Look How Baby” with Junior’s impassioned vocal and a remarkable duet between Buddy’s guitar and Fred Below’s drums. It’s avant-garde blues. (BTW, most of the same tracks, with a few others, also appear on Best of the Vanguard Years.)

The first time I saw Buddy after Junior died in 1998, he spoke of him, then said “Damn, I miss him.”

Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong

On first blush, this might seem an odd pairing. Yes, they were two icons of American music, but…

Ella was the First Lady of Song, a virtuosic singer’s singer. With perfect pitch and an encyclopedic memory for songs, Ella brought a beautiful and personal tone across a huge range.

Louis had brought unprecedented virtuosity to Jazz on cornet and trumpet, but his voice was gruff and gravelly through a limited range. His approach to singing seemed playful, sly, almost casual. Many know Louis as the cute older fella who had a hit with “Hello Dolly”. That misses not only his earlier Hot 5 and Hot 7 masterpieces that were arguably the most important popular recordings of the 20th Century, but also the astounding gifts he brought going forward.

Jazz impresario Norman Granz brought them together on his Verve record label, and provided them with stellar support. Three albums issued: Ella and Louis, Ella and Louis Again, and Porgy and Bess. Each was met with deserved critical acclaim and commercial success. If you love the great American songbook, you’ll want them all. If you don’t, you still might want them all. Other options include compilation and “Best of” albums.

Riches abound; you can’t go wrong as a listener. “Let’s Call The Whole Thing Off” has never been a favorite of mine, but I couldn’t help but smile at their rendition. Virtually everything else is sublime. What Louis creates as counterpoint to Ella’s lead in the first chorus of “Stars Fell On Alabama” must be heard to be believed. Then they switch and Ella returns the favor. There is “Summertime” as you’ve never heard it, and the best version of “Stompin’ At The Savoy” since Chick Webb’s original.

Any notion that this is a questionable pairing fades quickly into other impressions: (1) While it is true that Louis’s vocal instrument lacked the beauty and range of Ella’s, in his own way he was no less the virtuoso vocalist. And, of course, Louis’s trumpet gave him a second voice. (2) Ella could be as sly and playful as Louis. (3) The cliché that “Timing is everything” is true. (4) In the end, these are kindred spirits as well as other-worldly talents. Their contrasting mastery accentuates each other’s genius.

As in sports, the truly great make it look, or sound, easy.

Art Blakey and Thelonious Monk

Again we have two icons. Pianist Thelonious Monk is often and justly called one of the high priests of Bebop. Actually, he is a genre unto himself, a game-changer who re-imagined space and time in music. Art Blakey served as the talent scout, bandleader, and poly-rhythmic drummer extraordinaire of Hard Bop.

Blue Note co-founder Alfred Lion was one of the few who “got” Monk right away. He acted on his convictions by recording him from 1947 to 1952 even though sales were lackluster. By the time fans, critics and even musicians finally caught on, Monk was elsewhere. But the originals of some of Monk’s greatest compositions (e.g. ”Straight, No Chaser”, “Epistrophy”, “Misterioso”, “Evidence”, “I Mean You”, “’Round Midnight” “In Walked Bud” and “Criss Cross”) are on these early Blue Note records. On every one of them, the drummer is Art Blakey.

So, the uncanny chemistry between Monk and Blakey had early origins. It helped that Monk was a particularly percussive pianist and Blakey was (along with Max Roach) the most melodic of drummers. They went their separate, legendary ways, but any recording on which they both appear is a must-have. The early Blue Notes are highly recommended, of course. My favorite, though, and indeed one of my all-time go-to records, is a reunion on Atlantic records (#1278) aptly called Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers With Thelonious Monk.

Any of the six tracks is a marvel. I use “I Mean You” in presentations to demonstrate all that is possible in Jazz when great players, who are also great listeners, improvise. Never coasting when comping (accompanying a soloist), Blakey and Monk are constant sources of ideas, perfectly fitting whatever the soloist is creating. At one point behind Bill Hardman’s trumpet solo, Monk’s piano and Blakey’s drums have such a call-and-response blizzard going, I can’t imagine how Hardman kept his bearings. Such instantaneous and spontaneous invention leaves one in delighted awe. So does Blakey’s drum solo, a poly-rhythmic tour-de-force.

Big Joe Turner and Pete Johnson

Shortly after Jay McShann passed away on December 7, 2006, a radio station (probably NPR) aired an archived interview with the pianist/bandleader that contained a notable story. The story (paraphrasing it from memory) was of an impressionable young McShann on his first night in Kansas City.

He was a pianist from Oklahoma looking to make a name for himself in the Big City. His first stop was at the largest musical venue in town. When he stepped inside the cavernous space, he saw a piano player on stage banging out furious boogie-woogie. There was also a very large man making his way up to the stage.

McShann wondered what the man clambering up the steps was going to do. He wasn’t carrying an instrument, and there was nothing awaiting him on the stage – not even a microphone. He reached center stage just as the pianist completed one chorus and began the next. Opening his mouth as he turned toward the audience, Big Joe Turner filled the room with sound. Big Joe Turner didn’t need a microphone, no matter how large the room – especially when singing with Pete Johnson.

Jay McShann was transfixed as chorus after chorus washed over him, singer and pianist pushing each other to ever greater heights. He quickly realized two things: (1) He was in the right place; and (2) he had work to do if he was to make his mark in this town.

Any list of the greatest boogie-woogie pianists includes Johnson, along with Albert Ammons, Meade Lux Lewis, and Jimmy Yancey. The form is either bluesy Jazz or jazzy Blues, or both, combining the feel of the Blues with the swing of Jazz. Propelled by insistent bass patterns played with the left hand, boogie-woogie freed pianists to improvise blues-drenched melody endlessly with the right hand. Recordings featuring Johnson, Ammons, and Lewis in various combinations (occasionally all three) in rollicking face-offs make for exhilarating listening, but there’s no better way to hear Pete Johnson than backing Big Joe.

It takes nothing away from the great Jimmy Rushing (“Mr. Five-by-Five”) to call Turner the best of the Kansas City Blues shouters. Those thinking they’re unfamiliar have probably heard him belt out the original “Shake, Rattle and Roll” among other essential precursors to Rock‘n’Roll. These rhythm and blues staples are as entertaining as they are important, but earlier work with Pete Johnson had already long established Big Joe as the Boss of the Blues.

Friends and collaborators since teen years in Kansas City, Turner and Johnson paved the way for a boogie-woogie craze ignited by their appearance at John Hammond’s legendary Carnegie Hall concert From Spirituals To Swing on December 23, 1938. Their seminal work isn’t always easy to come by, but the Atlantic label got them together again in 1956 for Turner’s The Boss of the Blues Sings Kansas City Jazz. Highlights include versions of classics like “Roll ‘Em Pete” (probably the song that first inspired Jay McShann), “Cherry Red”, and one of the greatest covers of Leroy Carr’s “How Long Blues” ever recorded.

Conclusion

There are dynamic duos, presumably, in all musical genres, but those settings in which improvisation is central provide extra room for dynamism to flourish. Thus, we focus here on Jazz and Blues. (That, and the fact that I don’t have anything to say about Simon and Garfunkel you haven’t heard before, or thought yourself.) A long list of pairings to consider immediately came to mind; narrowing down which duos to include was the hard part.

If you’re thinking “How could he not do ________ and ________?” , well, maybe I should have. If this post is well received, it won’t take much persuading to do it again. I also feel the urge to write about unsung heroes: that is, great but relatively unknown or perpetually underappreciated musicians who have made a difference.

Happy listening!

Ken Bossong

© 2020 Kenneth J. Bossong

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Opening Up While Shutting Down

The noise of everyday life is the noise of being perpetually busy. The shutdown imposed by the coronavirus pandemic provides a chance to open ourselves up.

Too Busy – Usually Real, Sometimes Less So

The frenetic pace of our lives is something we all bemoan at times, often with good reason. There is no time to think, or to reflect, plan, organize, or to reach out to neglected friends or family. We know the drill: job(s) leaving us exhausted; clutter that begs to be cleared; sleep deficits; the good book we’ve wanted to read, but don’t start because it’s “too long”; food wolfed down without really sharing a meal. How many marriages or other relationships suffer from inadequate time to really listen and share unvarnished thoughts and feelings?

Being “too busy” isn’t even limited to the employed. Since retiring, one of my pursuits has been to seek a new excuse for being less effective than I should be. That one’s not going well.

Now Comes the Pandemic

It looks like our bluff is being called. For many of us, lack of time will not be a problem for a while.

As one enterprise after another (sports, theaters, museums, businesses, schools) shuts down, all events (games, tournaments, conventions, concerts, cruises, flights, meetings) are cancelled or postponed. For fans who wait all year for March Madness, as an example, no basketball is indeed madness. The list of what’s not happening is mind-numbing. The announcements should be for what still is happening.

This virus is taking away all the good distractions that give us relief from the bad stuff in life – you know, like illness.

That’s not the only irony. It feels unsettling that our normal reaction to adversity – to gather together for support and camaraderie – is the very thing we can’t do in this crisis. Meanwhile, all this shutting down is happening amid weather (in Jersey, at least) that announces Spring’s rebirth.

Here’s a weird thought: What will the nightly news or the newspapers have left to cover? [“And now for the Sports, with Bob Skiffle. Bob?” “Thank you, Allison. Nobody’s playing. Back to you.”] A news broadcast will consist of the three C’s: Commercials , Crime, and Coronavirus, with a bit of weather thrown in at the end.

What Will We Do?

Forget what the reporting will be, though. What will we actually do with our time? How will Americans spend their time in a shut-down country? Even people whose jobs continue unabated during the shut-down will find most normal free-time activities unavailable. Imagine those whose jobs go away temporarily or (please, no) permanently. We sometimes say there’s nothing to do even when there’s everything to do. We know what we really mean at those times; what happens when it’s true?

We can read that good, too-long book or catch up on TV programming that we usually regret missing. Of course, we can also binge watch re-runs and endless drivel. There are other possibilities, some of them good.

To be clear, this is not to downplay the harm. There will be plenty. The worst harm, obviously, is to individuals who contract Covid-19. Beyond that, however, will be damage to people’s confidence and finances. There is no shortage of pundits telling us what all this means for the stock market, jobs, and the economy. The layoffs have already begun. State and federal tax revenues will plummet, even as the need for government assistance spikes. Yet…

Once we’ve cleaned all the stores out of disinfectant and secured more French-toast ingredients (bread, milk, eggs) than we could ever consume, there is opportunity here as well. If we can pause and take a deep breath, it might occur to us that we have time to think. The first thing to think about is Time itself.

Time Not Always On Our Side

Time is an artificial construct invented as a way to order our lives. Generally, it works. Time facilitates coordination of activity in a way similar to money facilitating commerce. It’s “midnight” at midnight because we agree to call it that.

Consider:  The next credit card payment is due (let’s say) April 1, with a ten-day grace period, because that’s the agreement. Investors in the lender expect profits from payment of loans and collection of extra fees when late. All of which is fine, as far as it goes. None of this is cosmically ordained, however.

If furloughed borrowers do their best to make payment but come up short, how could lenders justify waiving late fees to their investors? Well, by saying, “We all know what happened here. Profits will be a bit down this quarter, but we’ll all be fine.” If the investors’ creditors in turn take a similar tack with them, and so forth, we smooth out the path to recovery.

In choosing to share the pain, within reason, we can lessen it to the benefit of all. (Being the creditor to a  debtor in trouble is no fun, either.) This assumes, of course, that those able to meet their obligations will do so, rather than take advantage. Our system always depends on overall good faith. Also, when the economy comes back, we can make a point of hiring those who lost their jobs blamelessly.

All of this is to illustrate the bigger point: We can all give each other a break for a month, or longer if needed, and not just financially.

Wouldn’t it be great if, after this unwanted hiatus, we re-engaged with each other as a better people?

Becoming Better

Which brings us to the second, more important, thing to think about: we, ourselves, as individuals.

Whatever makes us better – introspection, honest self-assessment, meditation, study, prayer – this might be the chance to re-establish some good habits. Perhaps we can open ourselves up to new possibilities, or to abandoned aspirations, while the noise is shut down.

Maybe we acknowledge the good in each other that we take for granted. Say the things that “go without saying”. Learn something new. Bury a stupid grudge. Do some good where it’s needed. Gain insight. Rededicate ourselves to something worthwhile.

Maybe we find ourselves knowing, and liking, who we see in the mirror a little better next month than last.

Ken Bossong

© 2020 Kenneth J. Bossong

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McCoy Tyner, Philly’s Pianist Supreme

Others are doing a good job memorializing McCoy Tyner in widely-available tributes since his passing on Friday, March 6. See, for example, Ben Ratliff’s piece in the New York Times and Dan DeLuca’s in Saturday’s Philadelphia Inquirer. This, then, will not be a comprehensive retrospective of the great pianist’s life or work.

I would be remiss, however, to let the moment pass without expressing appreciation for one of the true masters, and a critical stylistic link between bebop and the avant-garde. Simply put, McCoy Tyner was one of the all-time greats. If you have never heard him, you owe it to yourself.

Among His Influences

Innovation is paramount in Jazz. There are special places of honor reserved for those who create a sound on their instruments that is new, vital, and unmistakably their own. Within a few notes of any recording, there is no doubt when the pianist is McCoy Tyner. He did not come from nowhere, however, and his obvious inspirations constitute a piano Hall of Fame.

Earl Hines is considered an early virtuoso of Jazz piano for his “orchestral” approach to the instrument. That is to say, Hines used unprecedented two-handed skill and facility to unleash all that the keyboard offers. It is no coincidence that Hines is the one pushing a young Louis Armstrong to new heights on some of the latter’s most important early recordings, like “Weather Bird” and the incomparable “West End Blues”.

The Harlem Stride pianists, like James P. Johnson, Willie “The Lion” Smith, and Fats Waller, were so named for the patterns of powerful chords they used to propel their music. Their left hand did the “striding” while belting out the chords that set the foundation for the right hand’s melodic improvisations .

The two high priests of bebop piano were Thelonious Monk and Bud Powell. From Monk, Tyner clearly gleaned the importance of space in music, and the rhythmic and percussive aspects of the instrument. Powell was his hero, though. The Powell influence is unmistakable in the grace, fluidity and melodic majesty of Tyner’s playing. McCoy added to these bop innovations the fullness of his expanded orchestral approach and the propulsive force of his amazing left hand. Thus, he became uniquely capable of creating thrilling tension and beauty.

As explained in an earlier post (“What Makes Jazz So Endearing and Enduring”, 3/4/19), tension and release is one of the most compelling techniques in the music. Tyner’s remarkable ability to build tension, even while creating melodically and harmonically, made him the perfect pianist for a quartet many consider the greatest ever.

The Quartet

John Coltrane made astounding music both before and after his “Classic Quartet”, but there has never been anything like that group – Tyner, Jimmy Garrison on bass, and Elvin Jones on drums. Jones described the group’s interaction as “telepathic”. It’s a good thing they were, too, given the passion, virtuosity, energy, and inventiveness with which they played.

Every Coltrane album on which McCoy plays is a genuine classic. I’ll just mention two. The first of them, My Favorite Things on Atlantic was, as mentioned in a prior post (“Missing The Trane”, 7/18/19), my first Coltrane record. One reason I listened to the title track every day for a year was how often I discovered an idea in Tyner’s solo that developed into something magical in Coltrane’s second turn on the soprano.

It is impossible to present A Love Supreme, as I’m doing in this 55th anniversary year of the iconic Impulse album’s release, without pointing out Tyner’s contributions.

The truth, though, is that you can pick any album from this group’s era in the early Sixties and just sit back in wonder at what is possible in improvised music. In the middle of it all is Tyner’s grounded but relentless attack setting the table for the bristling passion of everyone else’s playing. You can feel Coltrane gearing up for his next solo.

McCoy was the surviving member of The Quartet; his passing will make any presentation of A Love Supreme that much more poignant.

Post ‘Trane

As far as I can tell, there is no such thing as a bad McCoy Tyner recording. Whether leader or sideman, in whatever setting – solo, trio, small group with horns, big band – he guaranteed a level of excellence for the proceedings.

There are Tyner records that will be mentioned by all, like The Real McCoy on Blue Note. (Emails seeking further listening recommendations will be met with enthused reply, by the way.) For now, let’s just mention Time For Tyner, also on Blue Note. As exhilarating as it is beautiful, this is a wonderful example of the special chemistry Tyner had with the extraordinary vibraphonist, Bobby Hutcherson. Other excellent outings feature saxophonists like Gary Bartz, Sonny Fortune, and Azar Lawrence.

Seeing McCoy Tyner live was always a memorable treat, whether as a solo in San Francisco or with a group at the Berks County Jazz Festival. The latter was with a good friend who is a gifted musician in his own right. When the concert was over, we just sat there for a while, speechless. This can happen after experiencing one of the best who ever lived.

Final Note

I have never read or heard a bad word about McCoy Tyner, as a musician or as a person. He has influenced virtually every pianist who has followed him, many profoundly. They have chosen well in selecting a mentor.

The magnitude of such a loss is tempered somewhat by the opportunity (actually, the need) to celebrate the man. And, as always with truly great music, riches await the adventurous listener.

Ken Bossong

© 2020 Kenneth J. Bossong

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What Makes Jazz So Endearing And Enduring

America’s Special Music

I have loved Jazz (and Blues) music for as long as I can remember, virtually from first exposure. It has enriched my life more than I can say. Therefore, I take particular pleasure in explaining why and how this music is so special. I have done that for years in personal presentations and I’ll do so now in occasional posts. Since I’m covering a vast topic in manageable portions, this is the first in a periodic series.

In a well written piece for the Smithsonian (https://music.si.edu/story/jazz), Dr. John Edward Hasse says, “Often acclaimed as America’s greatest art form, jazz has become accepted as a living expression of the nation’s history and culture, still youthful, difficult to define and impossible to contain, a music of beauty, sensitivity, and brilliance that has produced (and been produced by) an extraordinary progression of talented artists.”

Agreeing that it is futile to attempt a formal definition of Jazz, I think of it as America’s ultimate melting-pot art form, with something for everyone. Rather than defining Jazz, I find it more useful to explore characteristics that enhance the music’s impact and the listener’s pleasure. Let’s consider seven of them.

1. Call and Response Patterns

A leader calls out a theme and a chorus responds. The response might reflect or amplify the call, or it might diminish or contradict. The pattern may repeat or change. The tone of the exchange can be worshipful or profane, affectionate or adversarial, calm or feisty.

There is something especially satisfying about call and response. It can occur in any setting – between a preacher and the congregation; the lead singer and the backups; the reeds and the brass; or a singer and his or her guitar – or someone else’s. The back-and-forth works so well because it reflects our human need to communicate, whether the content is intellectual (thoughts/ideas) or emotional (feelings/passions).

Even amid the glories of Louis Armstrong’s Hot 5 and Hot 7 recordings, “West End Blues” is above and beyond. One of several reasons I think of it as the most important three minutes of popular music ever recorded is an extraordinary call and response passage between Armstrong’s voice and a clarinet.

Jazz is not the first music form to benefit from call and response. Indeed, Jazz inherited the technique from field hollers, work songs, spirituals, and the Blues. The trail does not stop with Jazz, either.

I remember realizing one day why “Sincerely” by the Moonglows is one of my two or three favorite Doo Wop songs: the lead guitarist sets up an exquisite call and response with the vocal. It makes a good record truly great. It’s amazing what I learn when I really listen.

2. Tension and Release

Nearly equal to call and response in impact and pervasiveness within Jazz is tension and release. There are dozens of ways to create tension in the music and equal numbers of ways to satisfactorily resolve it. This is another remarkably effective way to engage the listener emotionally.

Devices utilized to achieve tension and release include: gradual increases or decreases in tempo, volume, or intensity; repetition; contrast; sudden changes in rhythm, key, or harmonic approach; dissonance; and almost anything unexpected that nevertheless works.

I love to play Duke Ellington’s masterpiece “Ko-Ko” in presentations not only for how many of the above techniques are used, but how well. The effectiveness of the dissonance is mind boggling, and it was recorded on May 6, 1940. Yes, 1940.

3. Rhythmically Compelling

It is generally difficult to listen to great Jazz without moving some part of your body. During the big band era of Jazz, so-called Swing was the most popular dance music in the world. Duke Ellington probably said it best with a song title: “It Don’t Mean a Thing If it Ain’t Got That Swing”.

So, why not just say “It’s got to swing” rather than “Jazz tends to be rhythmically compelling”? Because the pulse of the music can be thrilling even when it’s not the sort that lends itself to finger-snapping on that swinging 4/4 beat. (Though, that is exactly what happens when the music swings that way.)

An example is poly-rhythmic drumming. The great drummers who emerged during bebop and hard bop were masters in sustaining multiple rhythms simultaneously. It’s great fun trying to count how many different rhythms Art Blakey plays at once in his classic drum solos (as in “Free For All” on Blue Note or “I Mean You” with Thelonious Monk on Atlantic).

There are examples even post-bop, when the lines delineating measures were fading. Few sounds are more compelling than drummer Elvin Jones’s “circular rhythms”. He accents at the perfect moment given what the soloist is doing, rather than at predetermined intervals. So the listener does not tap every four beats, but sways with the music’s energy as one might with the ocean’s waves.

4. Instrument as Voice and Voice as Instrument

Great Jazz players consider the instruments they play extensions of their voices. There are many examples, of course. Eric Dolphy seemed particularly intent on “speaking” through his instruments, especially the bass clarinet. One of John Coltrane’s countless contributions to the music was to extend the “vocabulary” and the “syntax” available on the tenor and soprano saxophones.

Similarly, great Jazz singers consider their voices musical instruments. Horn players loved Sarah Vaughan, considering her one of their own. It’s not just the scat singing, by the way, although scatting (in which one sings wordless notes where words would be expected) has made the point most directly ever since Louis Armstrong’s “Heebie Jeebies”.

Then there is scat’s mirror image, vocalese, in which the vocalist inserts words while singing famous instrumental solos. Leading proponents include Eddie Jefferson, King Pleasure, and Lambert Hendricks and Ross.

Thus, the lines between the vocal and the instrumental blur in Jazz. Categorization is less important than effectiveness when it comes to communicating through music.

Whether singing or playing, though, having your own “voice” is critical to attaining greatness. One does not confuse other singers with Sarah, Ella Fitzgerald, Joe Williams, or Betty Carter. Charlie Parker and John Coltrane have innumerable followers and imitators; yet, it is almost impossible to mistake anyone for them after a few notes.

5. Improvisation

Composition and arrangement are vital to Jazz, and the genre has been blessed with many who are truly great at both. To this day, if one were to ask leading music critics from all fields to name America’s greatest composer, I believe Duke Ellington would win that poll.

Nevertheless, rare is the major work of Jazz in which improvisation is not an essential element. Improvisation is the lifeblood of Jazz; it is also the most misunderstood feature of the music. A friend, explaining why he does not like Jazz, did me the favor of articulating the perception: “Why would I want to listen to a group playing around with songs? Practice on your time, get it down pat, and let me know when you’re ready for me to listen.”

Improvisation is not a bunch of musicians with no familiarity with the material or each other just playing and hoping something good emerges, however. It is an approach that places the onus for developing all the best ideas inherent in a piece on the musicians as well as the composer. The performer has an opportunity, in fact a responsibility, to enhance the material provided. The player is creating, composing, on the spot. This requires tremendous technical skill (see Virtuosity, below), a nimble and fertile mind, and vast knowledge of the resources available for reference while improvising.

Astounding listening skills are also needed for artists improvising in a setting other than solo performance.

Legit Jazz musicians are almost always good at this, and often great. The potential for something special, profound even, always exists. When such magic happens, it’s unforgettable. Anyone who’s followed the music for a while has such stories to tell.

If the idea of composing on the spot seems puzzling, so (to a Jazz fan) does the notion of going to a concert hoping that an artist recreates a recent album without making “mistakes”. If that’s the goal, the best that can happen, why not listen to the beloved album in the comfort of one’s home and save the fortune it costs to attend a pop star’s concert?

6. Virtuosity

It is hard not to notice how good Jazz musicians generally are, technically, on their instruments. This is another area that is not as well understood as it could be, however. It is certainly true that all the greats have spent countless hours “wood shedding” (practicing) to attain their “chops” (skills/facility on their instruments). John Coltrane was famous among his peers for practicing incessantly, even between sets at gigs, and for falling asleep late at night with a sax on his chest.

It must be tempting after working so hard to get that good to simply show off with a blizzard of notes at every opportunity. While something like that can appear to be happening at times in a jam session, especially when it has turned into a can-you-top-this cutting session, virtuosity alone is never enough.

Virtuosity or near virtuosity, then, is a necessary, but not sufficient, condition of succeeding in Jazz. When we say someone “can play“, skill is a part of that, to be sure, but there is more.

Virtuosity is a means, not an end. The end sought is the creation of great music. (See Improvisation, above.) I have seen no better explanation of this than a quote from bassist/composer/arranger Charles Mingus: “Once you achieve technical facility, you’re either a musician or you’re not. You’re either a creative person or a stenographer.” He wasn’t kidding, by the way. Nicely playing cliches in the solos allotted was the surest way to get oneself fired by Mingus. This could occur not only in mid-concert, but in mid-solo.

One last thought: Virtuosity comes in many shapes, sizes, and flavors. When a true innovator comes along, critics and musicians alike can look foolish if they pounce before understanding. When Thelonious Monk first appeared on the scene, more than a few proclaimed that he couldn’t play. All Monk did was change our concepts of space and time in music. His oeuvre places him in the first rank of American composers, and the leading competition promoting excellence in playing for young musicians is named after him.

7. The Cry of the Blues

The last characteristic is hard to describe or even name. I know it when I hear it. Further, I miss it when it’s not there. I have wrestled with what to call it. Whether I read it some where, had it suggested to me in conversation, or simply came up with it, I have settled on the Cry of the Blues. (If appropriate, I’ll attribute in a future post.)

It’s a sound and a feeling, more than the song form known as the Blues with its typical characteristics (12 bar, AAB, etc.). Most of the material sung by Billie Holliday over the years was not, technically, the Blues, but our ears do not deceive us. Every note, every syllable, she ever sang was the essence of the Blues.

When the material being played or sung is felt and meant by the artists, a part of who and what they are, the music is more likely to be felt by, and mean something to, the listener. Hopes and dreams, frustrations and loss, triumphs and setbacks: it’s all in there. It’s the stuff of life.

Coda

These essential characteristics of Jazz came mostly or entirely from the cultures of Africa, especially West Africa. We know how they got here. Out of the suffering of a people emerged this magnificent art form. Its riches are always available for the taking – not just in April (Jazz Appreciation Month). And they deserve to be recognized and celebrated all the time – not just in February (Black History Month).

Ken Bossong

© 2019 Kenneth J. Bossong


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Us vs. Them

It’s those people; you know, Them. They’re the problem.

Something said as often as this – indeed, sometimes simply assumed without saying – is worth examining. Of course, we’re really motivated to think about it when the speaker is pointing a finger in our faces and saying “It’s you people. You’re the problem.”

It’s Us versus Them. While divisiveness is becoming our national pastime, it’s nothing new. Worse, perhaps, but not new. We seek to be part of an Us, and there must be a Them for there to be an Us. It’s less fun on the receiving end, being one of Them.

Collaboration

Let’s start with what the issue is not: collaboration. Human beings combine efforts to accomplish things, including survival. Whether a team, a community, a movement in the arts, a profession, or any number of other undertakings, being a contributing part of something greater than oneself can be a highlight of one’s life.

Obviously, there is nothing wrong with like-minded individuals gathering to pursue common interests (unless there is something wrong with those common interests, of course). Indeed, it’s how things get done and, every now and then, how greatness is achieved.

It does not have to be the ’27 Yankees or John Coltrane’s Classic Quartet for greatness to be within reach, either. We recognize the kind of Us we admire in a community group raising enough money for a child to receive necessary treatment, a team of fire fighters saving lives, or a staff keeping a business afloat despite adverse circumstances through hard work and skill.

Competition

As a fan of all the major sports, and not just at the professional level (high school basketball is one of the great entertainment bargains anywhere), I’m not the one to decry competition. Healthy, spirited competition pushes participants to greater heights. And, in general, no one better appreciates the effort it takes to strive to be the best than the similarly motivated opponent. Fans are sometimes surprised when intense rivals end up friends, but they needn’t be.

Urban blues reached some of its highest heights in the Blues clubs of ’50s and ’60s Chicago. A bit of Social Darwinism was involved on so-called Blue Monday; bands competed onstage Monday night, and the fans present decided who played there the rest of the week. The losers had to scramble for work, but the brilliance honed by the best of the best made for essential listening in its own right, and inspired rock ‘n’ roll and its “British invasion”.

One of the pillars of capitalism is the idea that competition in the marketplace tends to improve the quality, quantity and price of goods and services, to society’s general benefit. While recognizing it is not perfect, I support our system, but note with chagrin that an area of law called Antitrust is fading away. You may have heard of it. Younger readers, ask your parents or check it out; it’s fascinating.

The problem with Us vs. Them is not in the “versus”, as such.

Where the Problems Lie

Real problems arise in how and why we form the Us and, especially, how the members of each Us regard the Them.

Who is Us and how we form the Us

Consider the sheer number of the kinds of Us each person represents. Within any given conversation, it may be easy to say which group is Us and which is Them. The categories that provide an Us to belong to, however, are limitless, including one’s: ethnic background, religion, race, gender, family, political party, neighborhood, marital status, health, profession, socioeconomic class, education, personality traits, body habitus, lifestyle, and tastes and preferences in just about anything. Any difference will do.

As mentioned above, every Us needs a Them, and all these categories in which we differ are available.

How an Us regards a Them

A critically harmful error often occurs in how the members of an Us regard the Them. Follow the “reasoning” here:
(a) Something must distinguish Us from Them; there is a difference.
(b) If we’re not the same, one must be superior, and that’s gotta be Us.
(c) If we’re not the same, one must be inferior, and that’s gotta be Them.
(d) So, of course, those people are the problem; them. They’re inferior. What do you expect?

In the extreme cases, where humanity runs completely off the rails, it gets worse and goes like this: “They are so inferior, they are barely human…As a matter of a fact, they are not fully human.”

This is no stretch when one contemplates:
(a) the sickeningly effective representation, in the movie Cabaret, of Germany’s descent into evil madness when it became “entertaining” under the Nazis to depict Jews as apes; or
(b) the existence of slavery while the words “We hold these Truths to be self-evident, that all Men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness….” were written.

Why we form the Us – and the Them

Even in the less extreme cases, why do we seem to need a Them? Are we so insecure in our self-worth that we need someone, anyone, to feel superior to? (“At least we’re not [_______]!”) Do we need someone to dislike, or blame, or even hate?

There are also economic incentives for devaluing others. It escapes me why, but somehow it is considered more palatable to steal from “inferior” beings. What, they deserve it? Maybe it’s just easier.

Science Fiction and Other Thoughts

Here is an exercise I find helpful: Consider as many individuals as is manageable – those on your block, in your town, in your state, in the country, or in the world. From the dozens to the billions of people, each complex, multi-faceted human being is a bundle of beliefs, experiences and aspirations and a member of any number and kind of Usses. Very few are members of exactly the same Us. (Indeed, it may not be possible.) Again, every Us has a Them, and there is a dizzying array of each.

The dizzying array

To state the obvious, all members of every Them we identify consider themselves an Us superior to our Them.

Everyone is a member of countless Usses and Thems. Which of these categorical differences really matter? It is intriguing how many science fiction books and movies are built on the following premise: The one thing that would bring human beings together is having hostile aliens as a common enemy. Those [_________] people aren’t so bad if we need ’em to have a shot at defeating invading Martians. I suspect the theme endures from The Day the Earth Stood Still to Independence Day and so on, because we recognize some rueful truth in it.

There’s another complication. Many people are going to be part of not only the Thems we must oppose for some categories, but also in at least one Us in which we must get along and work together. So, it is possible to collaborate with some of those people. Kind of. But if she’s one of Them, how can she be one of Us? Who’s keeping score?

Furthermore, if each member of every Us and Them knows their group is superior, who is correct? How can we tell? Who decides? Actually, the answers are easy: each of us decides. Our perspective is the correct one. Our group is not only right, but more worthwhile as well. The one trait universally shared, apparently, is hubris. As something to build on, this does not seem promising.

Pause

Amid celebration of our obvious superiority, a pause for some introspection might be in order. I’ve noticed, for example, that I am wrong sometimes. It’s a shocking revelation, I know, but I make mistakes. Perfection completely, persistently, and maddeningly eludes me. Maybe if you are different than I, you can help me muddle through. And vice versa. Just saying.

How’s that perceived need for Us vs. Them been working out for us all, anyway? From centuries past right up to the present, a tragic combination of economic incentive and the need to assert superiority has fostered war, tribalism, pogroms, and humanitarian crises. Conflict is inevitable, I suppose, and even some wars must be fought (e.g. the Allies in WW II), but who needs Us vs. Them as an approach to life’s interactions? It’s wrong. It’s destructive. It’s lunacy.

OK….So? The Merits Beckon

Is the point that nothing is ever better than anything else? Of course not. Some ideas are nutty; some are brilliant. Is there right and wrong? Of course. Honesty is right; lying and stealing are wrong – and we know it.

We also know what distinguishes the quest for excellence from the arrogant and mistaken assumption of categorical superiority: the merits. One of the most striking parts of Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s Dream is for his children – that they one day “live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.” This is one of history’s greatest speeches not only for its eloquence and its aspirations, but also for its wisdom.

Time To Move On

So, it should not be Us vs. Them, after all. Let’s move on, even as we continue to strive for excellence in all endeavors, alone or in groups. If the need to be “the best” (or first, or whatever) motivates someone to cure cancer, great. We cannot find our self-worth in the denigration of others, however; quite the contrary. As we look elsewhere, we can make ourselves and our groups the best we can be. We can enjoy our rivalries, and play the Super Bowl, the stock market, or a game of Yahtzee, to win.

No, it’s not “Us vs. Them”.

It is “We”. You know, “the People”. Why do We, the People, need to await the arrival of aliens to finally get it right? It’s time to catch up to the wisdom of our cherished rhetoric.

Ken Bossong

© 2019 Kenneth J. Bossong


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What’s The Matter?

Admit it. You dread reading or watching the news, avoid discussing politics with most people, and will do almost anything to escape conversation on any topic with some people. If not, you are probably one of those folks everyone else is avoiding.

It seems nearly everyone is either angry, upset, incredulous, or disengaged. Some are all of these, and more. Institutions to which we traditionally turn seem to be weakening, if not crumbling. Life has become satire, as if we were Yossarian living out the book Catch 22 every day. I’ve got to stop saying “You can’t make this stuff up”, because I’ve been saying it nearly constantly for quite a while, and it’s getting old.

What The Problem Is Not

Oddly, it occurs to me that the problem is not that everyone is acting in their own interest. First, as human beings, it seems to me, we have little choice. Self preservation is in our nature. Second, and getting closer to the point, doing well puts us in position to do more good. There’s a reason why the airlines tell us to get our own oxygen masks on before helping others in an emergency.

No, the problem is not people acting in their self interest. It’s just that we are so often wrong about what is in our best interest – and increasingly so – with consequences that range from frustrating to tragic to catastrophic.

It’s closer to the truth, actually, that what’s wrong with us is that we are NOT acting in our true best interests as human beings, when behaving badly, whether acting alone or in groups.

Individually

We make these mistakes as individuals in countless roles in various settings. Among them are as citizens, workers, neighbors, family members, lovers, friends, leaders, officials, public figures, thinkers, artists, writers, and other creators.

We err in big decisions and in small; in private or on the world’s stage; often or once in a while.

Collectively

One would hope that collective wisdom would help us get it right when it comes to discerning our true best interests. Herd mentality often sends the stampede in the wrong direction, though. Such mistakes are made, again, in any number of settings, as within neighborhoods, towns, counties, states, and countries; professions and occupations; religions; races and ethnicities; genders; clubs and associations; socioeconomic groups; and political parties.

Recurring Mistakes

So, what are we talking about here? What “mistakes”? What are we wrong about? There is no point pretending that the list is short, if we were to get into all the nutty stuff we human beings do, but there are some real killers worth exploring, as we will in future posts. Among them are these:

The perceived need for Us versus Them (If you’re not just like me, you must be inferior; the need for enemies.)

Regarding all interactions and relationships as zero-sum games (Since the good in the world is finite, you must do poorly for me to do well.)

Racism and other systematized, irrational hatreds (That it’s morally wrong is a given; the extent of the irrationality involved is staggering.)

Not dealing with people or issues on the merits (Making decisions on the merits requires hard work; alas, we are often lazy, at least.)

Where We Are

I have lost count of the number of people who have told me stories about incidents that have happened to them or someone they know that go something like this: “I can’t (be your friend, talk to you, work with you, etc.) if you (believe in, voted for, like, etc.) (fill in a the name of a person, an attitude, a belief, etc.).” While we’re busy creating the largest possible divides between us with name-calling, insults and the recitation of brainless slogans, genuinely and significantly bad stuff is happening in our communities, our country and our world. Raise your hand if you think any of this is in our best interest. I thought so.

But, enough about the Congress and the White House.

You don’t have to be a cynic or even a skeptic to notice that the unacceptable has become the expected. That is the biggest mistake of all, and we’re all complicit in this one. It’s time to call out the unacceptable for what it is and behave accordingly. Like Yossarian, I hate stewed tomatoes (my favorite line in the book).

Ken Bossong

© 2019 Kenneth J. Bossong


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Otis Rush: An Appreciation

As Good As It Gets

Any New Year is awash in lists: best movies, best albums, notable deaths. I don’t know how many lists in that last category included him, but we lost one of the all-time greats, the irreplaceable Otis Rush, on September 29, 2018. Considering that he never received his due in either public fame or fortune while alive, the quality of the obits was a pleasant surprise.  Nevertheless, I am compelled to write. If you have never heard him, you owe it to yourself to experience all the Blues can be.

Rush was the singer/guitarist who had it all: a rich, versatile voice, a knowing way with a lyric, and remarkable skill on the guitar. Indeed, he is my second favorite guitarist – just behind Buddy Guy and a hair ahead of T-Bone Walker, B. B. King, and Earl Hooker (John Lee’s cousin and the greatest guitarist you’ve never heard of, unless you are a Blues aficionado; I’ll write about him someday).

Otis either wrote or was drawn to lyrics with a wry wisdom, and he knew what to do with those lyrics.

Then there was his voice. You don’t need a special voice to be a great Blues singer, but Rush proved that having one is no impediment, either. He could have been a pop star crooner, had he been inclined. Most assuredly, he was not so inclined, and his artistic integrity as a bluesman did his wallet no favors.

It’s tempting to delve deeper into the details of his brilliance. For example, no one could bend a note quite like Otis Rush. I am told that his playing a right-handed guitar upside down gave his note-bending a different sound. (Albert King, another great lefty who played a guitar strung for right-handers, was also justly renowned for bending notes, so there may be something to it.) Rush’s playing, like his singing, was not just different, though, but spine-tingling.

The details are secondary to his total impact as an artist, however. With Rush, the whole clearly exceeds the sum of his considerable parts. Why? What else is going on? All these skills were bound in a package of passion so powerful and authenticity so undeniable as to rivet the listener. He could play as fast as he wanted, but would not do so at the expense of a song’s integrity. Rush integrated the bent notes, the soaring voice, the perfectly chosen notes (and silences) not to show off but to convey feelings triggered by the music. This is Blues at the highest level. It is human communication.

Recordings

Otis neither recorded nor played live as often as would be expected for one so gifted. There were many reasons for this, some of which apparently involved his moods and his health.  The good news is that there are still plenty of opportunities to hear him, most ranging from very good to truly great.

It was a song by Otis Rush that made me a Blues fan long ago. I was very young, probably no more than 10 or 11, but my older cousins had gotten me into rock and roll already. I stumbled upon the Blues Show on Penn’s radio station, WXPN, on a Saturday evening (a show that is ongoing and still very well done, by the way).  It did not take long to have that “So THIS is where all the great stuff comes from” moment. That insight was not enough, however,  to prepare me for what I felt one night on first hearing a spell-binding guitar intro, followed by an impassioned vocal, an even better guitar solo, a clever “punchline“ vocal chorus, and a guitar “outro” that may be the best of all. I was hooked on the Blues for life.

The only problem was that the song was in the middle of a long set and the host never identified the song or the artist. That it was longer than a standard three-minute song and had something to do with gambling was all I knew. Over time, I realized that Otis Rush was the artist, the song was “Gambler’s Blues”, and the album was Mourning in the Morning on Cotillion, a subsidiary of Atlantic Records. It took me years to get my hands on that record, the first of many such quests that music fans know well.

The performance remains a marvel. One might have thought that B.B. King’s classic “Gambler’s Blues” on Blues Is King (his second greatest album, in my view, after Live at the Regal) would never be topped. One would have been wrong. The rest of the Mourning album is somewhat controversial among fans – some thinking it overproduced and containing material unworthy of Rush – but, in addition to “Gamblers’ Blues”, there are stellar remakes of two songs that had helped establish his reputation (“It Takes Time”, “My Love Will Never Die”) and his remarkable take on one of the genre’s recurrent themes, “Reap What You Sow”. True story about the latter: Someone for whom I once played it exclaimed, “My goodness! What did she do to him?”

Otis first recorded when bassist and prolific song writer Willie Dixon brought him to Eli Toscano, the owner of Cobra Records in Chicago. The result was a series of landmark recordings in the history of urban blues. Issued from 1956 to 1958, the best of these Cobra recordings, such as “I Can’t Quit You Baby”, “All Your Love (I Miss Loving)”, “Three Times A Fool”, “It Takes Time”, “My Love Will Never Die”, and the astounding “Double Trouble”, are essential listening, and a great place for listeners to start. (Quick aside: Any compilation of Otis’s Cobra recordings that is complete will also include a couple clunkers. Dixon apparently insisted that certain of his own songs be included for Otis to record despite not being up to the quality of others. It’s hard to imagine Rush would have chosen [shudder] “Violent Love”, for instance.)

One of nine artists to participate in a three-record series for Vanguard called Chicago/The Blues/Today!, Otis laid down only five tracks, but they are superb. Rush also shares the bill, with Albert King, on Door to Door (Chess); among his six sides on the album is the magnificent original of “So Many Roads”.

Other studio albums worth considering include: Right Place, Wrong Time (Bullfrog); Troubles, Troubles (Verve); Any Place I’m Going (Evidence); Ain’t Enough Comin’ In (Mercury); and Lost In The Blues (Alligator).

Among albums that capture Rush live: Tops (Blind Pig); Otis Rush and Friends Live at Montreux [the friends being Eric Clapton and Luther Allison] (Eagle Records); Double Trouble (Rock Beat); and Cold Day in Hell, All Your Love I Miss Loving, and So Many Roads, all on Delmark. The last of these was recorded in Tokyo in 1975, and the roar of a very large crowd of fans who really get what they’re hearing is exhilarating.

I’m tempted to say there is no such thing as a bad Otis Rush record. I do have this caution on one, though: Screamin’ and Cryin’ (Evidence) was recorded live at a time when Otis was clearly in a bad place in his life. It makes for uncomfortable listening, at least for me; in that sense, I cannot recommend it.

Seeing Otis Rush Live

I managed to see him twice. The first was at the Commodore Barry Club in Philadelphia, backed by a group of some of the better bluesmen in the Philly area, the Dukes of Destiny. From the looks on their faces, these musicians were as thrilled to play with Otis Rush as I was to finally see him. The second was at a Chicago blues club in Lincoln Park, backed by his Chicago blues band. In each case, he was in total, scintillating command.

No one is going to do better describing what it was like to see Otis Rush at his best than Robert Palmer did in his classic 1981 book Deep Blues (Viking), so I’m not going to try:

“The set…was devastating. The first tune rocked, with Otis snarling the words out of the side of his mouth, and then he settled down to slow, minor-key blues, an idiom in which nobody can touch him. ‘He’s so good, man,’ Muddy Waters had told me, and Muddy does not dispense praise lightly…That night at the Wise Fools [Pub], during one forty-minute set, Otis focused all his extraordinary talents. His grainy, gospelish singing carried the weight of so much passion and frustration, it sounded like the words were being torn from his throat, and his guitar playing hit heights I didn’t think any musician was capable of – notes bent and twisted so delicately and immaculately they seemed to form actual words…The performance, if you could call it that, was shattering and uplifting all at once, the way blues is supposed to be…Otis Rush had something else – an ear for the finest pitch shadings and the ability to execute them on the guitar, not as mere effects but as meaningful components in a personal vocabulary, a musical language. He was playing the deep blues.”

Coda

At the top of his game, Otis Rush had no superiors, and few peers. I have listened to the original “Double Trouble” (Cobra, 1958) dozens of times. The next time it fails to send chills down my spine will be the first. Not for nothing, as they say, did Stevie Ray Vaughan name his band.

Palmer was onto something with his aside “The performance, if you could call it that…” above. Such authenticity is all to the benefit of the lucky listener. Feeling at this depth is a rare, profound treat.

Ken Bossong

© 2019 Kenneth J. Bossong

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Welcome to Other Aspects

I am a night owl; it’s how I’m wired. For most of my life, I have done much of my best thinking, creating, and problem solving well after the sun has gone down. While I greatly admire morning people, my light bulb shines brightest in the dark. What keeps me up at night ranges from life’s engaging interests to the problems that beset us.

It really is not all negative, by the way. I remember when a good friend who shares my love of music mentioned that John Coltrane once appeared on the Soupy Sales Show. When I expressed astonishment, he sent me the YouTube link. I made the mistake of opening it around 11:30 that night. Know how YouTube feeds you one related video after another? Next thing I knew, I was watching clips I never knew existed of Django Reinhardt at 3 AM.

There’s a reason why Blues songs are written about 3 o’clock in the morning.

When I’m not being captivated by geniuses playing music, though, I am likely to be contemplating some recent outrage and wondering “How did this become acceptable?” or “We can do better than this, can’t we?”

Welcome to my blog. Why “Other Aspects”?

I write because I must. There are things that need to be said; they include both celebrations of unheralded good and laments of us going off the rails as a people. I don’t anticipate running out of material. Here’s the thing, though: When thinking about what I’ve heard/seen/read that enthralls or infuriates me, I’m often left wondering about other, sometimes crucial, aspects. This is where I aim to go.

Since I’m inviting you to spend some of your precious time here, you deserve a sense of what to expect.

Inevitably, the topics will be those matters that matter enough to me to keep me up at night – public affairs, government, and policy; law; music, language, and cultural trends; and sports. The music usually will be the genres that have most enriched my life, Jazz and Blues. In such posts, the goal will be to share those riches.

On the issues, I’ll not pretend to have all the answers, but I promise to do what I can to get the questions right – always the most important step.

I am tired of people yelling at each other and calling each other names, rather than having discussions on the merits of issues. I am tired of slogans substituting for facts, analysis, and common sense. The seemingly rigid orthodoxies of both the Far Left and the Far Right have little appeal for me. I like to think I take one issue at a time and wherever the merits take me, that’s where I am. I believe civility and respect to be signs of strength, not weakness.

I can’t be the only one who longs for statesmanship and leadership, who thinks facts, fair process and first principles matter, and who finds the unacceptable to be, well, unacceptable.

We can do better, and we must. It’s up to us. This will not be a venture into “ah, shucks” naiveté. (Problems that seem intractable are difficult for a reason.) Yet, much of the bad stuff seems maddeningly unnecessary and potentially fixable. Meanwhile, the underappreciated good in life needs the attention it deserves.

I welcome feedback directed to KenBossong@gmail.com. I considered doing Comments on the blog, but am persuaded that moderating spam, flame-outs, and the like can quickly become quite an undertaking. I’d rather spend the finite time available writing things worth reading. All feedback will be read; items that provide particularly helpful insight or factual info will be mentioned in a separate section following a future posting. If attribution seems appropriate, I’ll seek permission.

To state the obvious, I’m to blame for all opinions I express. I write for no other person or entity. Again, welcome, and thank you for considering other aspects.

Ken Bossong

© 2019 Kenneth J. Bossong