Riffshot to A Poet’s Beat ~ Excerpt from Memoir featuring “Song of the Open Road” by Walt Whitman Acoustic ambiance by The Rippingtons – “Pastels On Canvas”

Excerpt from Memoir…

I am the daughter of a 60s Jazz arranger/conductor where the reining tradition was “rents had the final word”.    I would hole up in my room for hours overhearing myself admit difficult truths that I could not hide from.  It welcomed creative inspirations into my sensory consciousness.    It gave me the chance to explore and discover the province of sound and words.   I found my rhythm. Mom taught me how to read when I was 3.  I was eleven years old when I had fallen in love with sound, art and most of all words.  Dad throughout all of the civil rights Tsunami did not faze him because he was driven to do the best on all levels for the upcoming Festival.  I followed suit in my own little way.  I survived by living in disguise. Since I was very young, the sanctity of my bedroom provided a canvas where I hoped, dreamed, set my own values and aspirations.  When I left my room I had to leave them behind like my books and other treasures tucked away on a shelf nestled in the opposite corner of the room.  I knew that Dad loved me, not without surrendering and bartering my own thoughts and feelings when he told me what I was supposed to want.  Dad repeatedly drummed into me that …being a doctor is where it’s at.  My foray into the jazz world began when I could feel my father intensity and determination of each note I mirrored in words at my desk.  I discovered and accepted the gifts and talents that Grandpa used to tell me… were gifts God gave me.  I let go of my family “persona”  free to let my imagination come alive and tap into my personal sense of purpose and who I really am.  Early mornings I would lie in bed hearing the music climb the stairs, it had a purpose, it had an intent – it was harmonic, it had a rhythm that grabbed my heart and rendered the beats to prepare me to go to my desk open my curtains and let the burst of the morning gently touch my face.  Jazz was transformative.  I was paralyzed by the feeling of losing my father’s love if I chose to follow my star.  I needed for him to tell me things would be okay.  That he would help me, encourage me, teach me the way things are in the world I was living.  How did he do it?  Every time I tried to step out of the role he was created in the song for me, he would resist.  So I would withdraw and try to convince myself that he knows what’s best for me.  I was so conflicted when he would teach me how to sight sing music, take me to his rehearsals and ask what instrument I wanted to learn how to play.  There were definitely rules of conduct and engagement with others.  There were two distinct behaviors, one associated with our home and private life and the one associated with our public life.  I spent most of the time in my room.  There the only rule was to be myself…. So here we go…

Just for today, I wanted to share poem that I read when I was eleven years old that somehow transformed my life…Hope you enjoy a mindfulness improv moment in jazz…Peace Out & Love JBC 8-) <3.

 

Song of the Open Road

BY WALT WHITMAN

1

Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,

Healthy, free, the world before me,

The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.

 

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,

Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,

Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,

Strong and content I travel the open road.

 

The earth, that is sufficient,

I do not want the constellations any nearer,

I know they are very well where they are,

I know they suffice for those who belong to them.

 

(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,

I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go,

I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,

I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)

 

2

You road I enter upon and look around, I believe you are not all that is here,

I believe that much unseen is also here.

 

Here the profound lesson of reception, nor preference nor denial,

The black with his woolly head, the felon, the diseas’d, the illiterate person, are not denied;

The birth, the hasting after the physician, the beggar’s tramp, the drunkard’s stagger, the laughing party of mechanics,

The escaped youth, the rich person’s carriage, the fop, the eloping couple,

 

The early market-man, the hearse, the moving of furniture into the town, the return back from the town,

They pass, I also pass, any thing passes, none can be interdicted,

None but are accepted, none but shall be dear to me.

 

3

You air that serves me with breath to speak!

You objects that call from diffusion my meanings and give them shape!

You light that wraps me and all things in delicate equable showers!

You paths worn in the irregular hollows by the roadsides!

I believe you are latent with unseen existences, you are so dear to me.

 

You flagg’d walks of the cities! you strong curbs at the edges!

You ferries! you planks and posts of wharves! you timber-lined sides! you distant ships!

 

You rows of houses! you window-pierc’d façades! you roofs!

You porches and entrances! you copings and iron guards!

You windows whose transparent shells might expose so much!

You doors and ascending steps! you arches!

You gray stones of interminable pavements! you trodden crossings!

From all that has touch’d you I believe you have imparted to yourselves, and now would impart the same secretly to me,

From the living and the dead you have peopled your impassive surfaces, and the spirits thereof would be evident and amicable with me.

 

4

The earth expanding right hand and left hand,

The picture alive, every part in its best light,

The music falling in where it is wanted, and stopping where it is not wanted,

The cheerful voice of the public road, the gay fresh sentiment of the road.

 

O highway I travel, do you say to me Do not leave me?

Do you say Venture not—if you leave me you are lost?

Do you say I am already prepared, I am well-beaten and undenied, adhere to me?

 

O public road, I say back I am not afraid to leave you, yet I love you,

You express me better than I can express myself,

You shall be more to me than my poem.

 

I think heroic deeds were all conceiv’d in the open air, and all free poems also,

I think I could stop here myself and do miracles,

I think whatever I shall meet on the road I shall like, and whoever beholds me shall like me,

I think whoever I see must be happy.

 

5

From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines,

Going where I list, my own master total and absolute,

Listening to others, considering well what they say,

Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating,

Gently,but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me.

I inhale great draughts of space,

The east and the west are mine, and the north and the south are mine.

 

I am larger, better than I thought,

I did not know I held so much goodness.

 

All seems beautiful to me,

I can repeat over to men and women You have done such good to me I would do the same to you,

I will recruit for myself and you as I go,

I will scatter myself among men and women as I go,

I will toss a new gladness and roughness among them,

Whoever denies me it shall not trouble me,

Whoever accepts me he or she shall be blessed and shall bless me.

 

6

Now if a thousand perfect men were to appear it would not amaze me,

Now if a thousand beautiful forms of women appear’d it would not astonish me.

 

Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons,

It is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the earth.

 

Here a great personal deed has room,

(Such a deed seizes upon the hearts of the whole race of men,

Its effusion of strength and will overwhelms law and mocks all authority and all argument against it.)

 

Here is the test of wisdom,

Wisdom is not finally tested in schools,

Wisdom cannot be pass’d from one having it to another not having it,

Wisdom is of the soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own proof,

Applies to all stages and objects and qualities and is content,

Is the certainty of the reality and immortality of things, and the excellence of things;

Something there is in the float of the sight of things that provokes it out of the soul.

 

Now I re-examine philosophies and religions,

They may prove well in lecture-rooms, yet not prove at all under the spacious clouds and along the landscape and flowing currents.

 

Here is realization,

Here is a man tallied—he realizes here what he has in him,

The past, the future, majesty, love—if they are vacant of you, you are vacant of them.

 

Only the kernel of every object nourishes;

Where is he who tears off the husks for you and me?

Where is he that undoes stratagems and envelopes for you and me?

 

Here is adhesiveness, it is not previously fashion’d, it is apropos;

Do you know what it is as you pass to be loved by strangers?

Do you know the talk of those turning eye-balls?

 

7

Here is the efflux of the soul,

The efflux of the soul comes from within through embower’d gates, ever provoking questions,

These yearnings why are they? these thoughts in the darkness why are they?

Why are there men and women that while they are nigh me the sunlight expands my blood?

Why when they leave me do my pennants of joy sink flat and lank?

Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me?

(I think they hang there winter and summer on those trees and always drop fruit as I pass;)

What is it I interchange so suddenly with strangers?

What with some driver as I ride on the seat by his side?

What with some fisherman drawing his seine by the shore as I walk by and pause?

What gives me to be free to a woman’s and man’s good-will? what gives them to be free to mine?

 

8

The efflux of the soul is happiness, here is happiness,

I think it pervades the open air, waiting at all times,

Now it flows unto us, we are rightly charged.

 

Here rises the fluid and attaching character,

The fluid and attaching character is the freshness and sweetness of man and woman,

(The herbs of the morning sprout no fresher and sweeter every day out of the roots of themselves, than it sprouts fresh and sweet continually out of itself.)

 

Toward the fluid and attaching character exudes the sweat of the love of young and old,

From it falls distill’d the charm that mocks beauty and attainments,

Toward it heaves the shuddering longing ache of contact.

 

9

Allons! whoever you are come travel with me!

Traveling with me you find what never tires.

 

The earth never tires,

The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first, Nature is rude and incomprehensible at first,

Be not discouraged, keep on, there are divine things well envelop’d,

I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell.

 

Allons! we must not stop here,

However sweet these laid-up stores, however convenient this dwelling we cannot remain here,

However shelter’d this port and however calm these waters we must not anchor here,

However welcome the hospitality that surrounds us we are permitted to receive it but a little while.

 

10

Allons! the inducements shall be greater,

We will sail pathless and wild seas,

We will go where winds blow, waves dash, and the Yankee clipper speeds by under full sail.

 

Allons! with power, liberty, the earth, the elements,

Health, defiance, gayety, self-esteem, curiosity;

Allons! from all formules!

From your formules, O bat-eyed and materialistic priests.

 

The stale cadaver blocks up the passage—the burial waits no longer.

 

Allons! yet take warning!

He traveling with me needs the best blood, thews, endurance,

None may come to the trial till he or she bring courage and health,

Come not here if you have already spent the best of yourself,

Only those may come who come in sweet and determin’d bodies,

No diseas’d person, no rum-drinker or venereal taint is permitted here.

 

(I and mine do not convince by arguments, similes, rhymes,

We convince by our presence.)

 

11

Listen! I will be honest with you,

I do not offer the old smooth prizes, but offer rough new prizes,

These are the days that must happen to you:

You shall not heap up what is call’d riches,

You shall scatter with lavish hand all that you earn or achieve,

You but arrive at the city to which you were destin’d, you hardly settle yourself to satisfaction before you are call’d by an irresistible call to depart,

You shall be treated to the ironical smiles and mockings of those who remain behind you,

What beckonings of love you receive you shall only answer with passionate kisses of parting,

You shall not allow the hold of those who spread their reach’d hands toward you.

 

12

Allons! after the great Companions, and to belong to them!

They too are on the road—they are the swift and majestic men—they are the greatest women,

Enjoyers of calms of seas and storms of seas,

Sailors of many a ship, walkers of many a mile of land,

Habituès of many distant countries, habituès of far-distant dwellings,

Trusters of men and women, observers of cities, solitary toilers,

Pausers and contemplators of tufts, blossoms, shells of the shore,

Dancers at wedding-dances, kissers of brides, tender helpers of children, bearers of children,

Soldiers of revolts, standers by gaping graves, lowerers-down of coffins,

Journeyers over consecutive seasons, over the years, the curious years each emerging from that which preceded it,

Journeyers as with companions, namely their own diverse phases,

Forth-steppers from the latent unrealized baby-days,

Journeyers gayly with their own youth, journeyers with their bearded and well-grain’d manhood,

Journeyers with their womanhood, ample, unsurpass’d, content,

Journeyers with their own sublime old age of manhood or womanhood,

Old age, calm, expanded, broad with the haughty breadth of the universe,

Old age, flowing free with the delicious near-by freedom of death.

 

13

Allons! to that which is endless as it was beginningless,

To undergo much, tramps of days, rests of nights,

To merge all in the travel they tend to, and the days and nights they tend to,

Again to merge them in the start of superior journeys,

To see nothing anywhere but what you may reach it and pass it,

To conceive no time, however distant, but what you may reach it and pass it,

To look up or down no road but it stretches and waits for you, however long but it stretches and waits for you,

To see no being, not God’s or any, but you also go thither,

To see no possession but you may possess it, enjoying all without labor or purchase, abstracting the feast yet not abstracting one particle of it,

To take the best of the farmer’s farm and the rich man’s elegant villa, and the chaste blessings of the well-married couple, and the fruits of orchards and flowers of gardens,

To take to your use out of the compact cities as you pass through,

To carry buildings and streets with you afterward wherever you go,

To gather the minds of men out of their brains as you encounter them, to gather the love out of their hearts,

To take your lovers on the road with you, for all that you leave them behind you,

To know the universe itself as a road, as many roads, as roads for traveling souls.

 

All parts away for the progress of souls,

All religion, all solid things, arts, governments—all that was or is apparent upon this globe or any globe, falls into niches and corners before the procession of souls along the grand roads of the universe.

 

Of the progress of the souls of men and women along the grand roads of the universe, all other progress is the needed emblem and sustenance.

 

Forever alive, forever forward,

Stately, solemn, sad, withdrawn, baffled, mad, turbulent, feeble, dissatisfied,

Desperate, proud, fond, sick, accepted by men, rejected by men,

They go! they go! I know that they go, but I know not where they go,

But I know that they go toward the best—toward something great.

 

Whoever you are, come forth! or man or woman come forth!

You must not stay sleeping and dallying there in the house, though you built it, or though it has been built for you.

 

Out of the dark confinement! out from behind the screen!

It is useless to protest, I know all and expose it.

 

Behold through you as bad as the rest,

Through the laughter, dancing, dining, supping, of people,

Inside of dresses and ornaments, inside of those wash’d and trimm’d faces,

Behold a secret silent loathing and despair.

 

No husband, no wife, no friend, trusted to hear the confession,

Another self, a duplicate of every one, skulking and hiding it goes,

Formless and wordless through the streets of the cities, polite and bland in the parlors,

In the cars of railroads, in steamboats, in the public assembly,

Home to the houses of men and women, at the table, in the bedroom, everywhere,

Smartly attired, countenance smiling, form upright, death under the breast-bones, hell under the skull-bones,

Under the broadcloth and gloves, under the ribbons and artificial flowers,

Keeping fair with the customs, speaking not a syllable of itself,

Speaking of any thing else but never of itself.

 

14

Allons! through struggles and wars!

The goal that was named cannot be countermanded.

 

Have the past struggles succeeded?

What has succeeded? yourself? your nation? Nature?

Now understand me well—it is provided in the essence of things that from any fruition of success, no matter what, shall come forth something to make a greater struggle necessary.

 

My call is the call of battle, I nourish active rebellion,

He going with me must go well arm’d,

He going with me goes often with spare diet, poverty, angry enemies, desertions.

 

15

Allons! the road is before us!

It is safe—I have tried it—my own feet have tried it well—be not detain’d!

 

Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the shelf unopen’d!

Let the tools remain in the workshop! let the money remain unearn’d!

Let the school stand! mind not the cry of the teacher!

Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! let the lawyer plead in the court, and the judge expound the law.

 

Camerado, I give you my hand!

I give you my love more precious than money,

I give you myself before preaching or law;

Will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me?

Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?

 

Japanese translation for meaning

Japanese translation for meaning

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Poet’s Beat on Jazz Canvas ~ “Toward An Organic Philosophy” by Kenneth Rexroth featuring Schawkie Roth – “Awareness Folded in Mystery”

“Toward An Organic Philosophy” by Kenneth Rexroth

Coastal Forest Black And White

Coastal Forest Black And White

SPRING, COAST RANGE

The glow of my campfire is dark red and flameless,
The circle of white ash widens around it.
I get up and walk off in the moonlight and each time
I look back the red is deeper and the light smaller.
Scorpio rises late with Mars caught in his claw;
The moon has come before them, the light
Like a choir of children in the young laurel trees.
It is April; the shad, the hot headed fish,
Climbs the rivers; there is trillium in the damp canyons;
The foetid adder’s tongue lolls by the waterfall.
There was a farm at this campsite once, it is almost gone now.
There were sheep here after the farm, and fire
Long ago burned the redwoods out of the gulch,
The Douglas fir off the ridge; today the soil
Is stony and incoherent, the small stones lie flat
And plate the surface like scales.
Twenty years ago the spreading gully
Toppled the big oak over onto the house.
Now there is nothing left but the foundations
Hidden in poison oak, and above on the ridge,
Six lonely, ominous fenceposts;
The redwood beams of the barn make a footbridge
Over the deep waterless creek bed;
The hills are covered with wild oats
Dry and white by midsummer.
I walk in the random survivals of the orchard.
In a patch of moonlight a mole
Shakes his tunnel like an angry vein;
Orion walks waist deep in the fog coming in from the ocean;
Leo crouches under the zenith.
There are tiny hard fruits already on the plum trees.
The purity of the apple blossoms is incredible.
As the wind dies down their fragrance
Clusters around them like thick smoke.
All the day they roared with bees, in the moonlight
They are silent and immaculate.

SPRING, SIERRA NEVADA

Spring of full bloom in Sierra Nevada

Spring of full bloom in Sierra Nevada

Once more golden Scorpio glows over the col
Above Deadman Canyon, orderly and brilliant,
Like an inspiration in the brain of Archimedes.
I have seen its light over the warm sea,
Over the coconut beaches, phosphorescent and pulsing;
And the living light in the water
Shivering away from the swimming hand,
Creeping against the lips, filling the floating hair.
Here where the glaciers have been and the snow stays late,
The stone is clean as light, the light steady as stone.
The relationship of stone, ice and stars is systematic and enduring:
Novelty emerges after centuries, a rock spalls from the cliffs,
The glacier contracts and turns grayer,
The stream cuts new sinuosities in the meadow,
The sun moves through space and the earth with it,
The stars change places.
The snow has lasted longer this year,
Than anyone can remember. The lowest meadow is a lake,
The next two are snowfields, the pass is covered with snow,
Only the steepest rocks are bare. Between the pass
And the last meadow the snowfield gapes for a hundred feet,
In a narrow blue chasm through which a waterfall drops,
Spangled with sunset at the top, black and muscular
Where it disappears again in the snow.
The world is filled with hidden running water
That pounds in the ears like ether;
The granite needles rise from the snow, pale as steel;
Above the copper mine the cliff is blood red,
The white snow breaks at the edge of it;
The sky comes close to my eyes like the blue eyes
Of someone kissed in sleep.
I descend to camp,
To the young, sticky, wrinkled aspen leaves,
To the first violets and wild cyclamen,
And cook supper in the blue twilight.
All night deer pass over the snow on sharp hooves,
In the darkness their cold muzzles find the new grass
At the edge of the snow.

FALL, SIERRA NEVADA

Fall In The NC Mountains-L

Fall In The NC Mountains-L

This morning the hermit thrush was absent at breakfast,
His place was taken by a family of chickadees;
At noon a flock of humming birds passed south,
Whirling in the wind up over the saddle between
Ritter and Banner, following the migration lane
Of the Sierra crest southward to Guatemala.
All day cloud shadows have moved over the face of the mountain,
The shadow of a golden eagle weaving between them
Over the face of the glacier.
At sunset the half-moon rides on the bent back of the Scorpion,
The Great Bear kneels on the mountain.
Ten degrees below the moon
Venus sets in the haze arising from the Great Valley.
Jupiter, in opposition to the sun, rises in the alpenglow
Between the burnt peaks. The ventriloquial belling
Of an owl mingles with the bells of the waterfall.
Now there is distant thunder on the east wind.
The east face of the mountain above me
Is lit with far off lightnings and the sky
Above the pass blazes momentarily like an aurora.
It is storming in the White Mountains,
On the arid fourteen-thousand-foot peaks;
Rain is falling on the narrow gray ranges
And dark sedge meadows and white salt flats of Nevada.
Just before moonset a small dense cumulus cloud,
Gleaming like a grape cluster of metal,
Moves over the Sierra crest and grows down the westward slope.
Frost, the color and quality of the cloud,
Lies over all the marsh below my campsite.
The wiry clumps of dwarfed whitebark pines
Are smoky and indistinct in the moonlight,
Only their shadows are really visible.
The lake is immobile and holds the stars
And the peaks deep in itself without a quiver.
In the shallows the geometrical tendrils of ice
Spread their wonderful mathematics in silence.
All night the eyes of deer shine for an instant
As they cross the radius of my firelight.
In the morning the trail will look like a sheep driveway,
All the tracks will point down to the lower canyon.
“Thus,” says Tyndall, “the concerns of this little place
Are changed and fashioned by the obliquity of the earth’s axis,
The chain of dependence which runs through creation,
And links the roll of a planet alike with the interests
Of marmots and of men.”

 

Japanese translation for meaning

Japanese translation for meaning

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

, , , , , ,

2 Comments

Jazz in Your Ear ~ RiffShots of mindfulness improv thoughts using literary and acoustic jazz 2 change ur life & world we live in! featuring Roberto Menescal – The Shadow of Your Smile

Listening to the Universe within

Listening to the Universe within

The Monterey Jazz Festival begins today.  I just wanted to share some riffshots of mindfulness improv thought using  Roberto Menescal;s “The Shadow of Your Smile” to demonstrate a third version of expression and improvisation.  Have a wonderful day!  Peace Out!  JBC 8-) & <3

 

 

Mindfulness means paying attention in a particular way; on purpose, in the present moment, and nonjudgmentally.”  -Jon Kabat-Zinn

 

 

Because there really is still a chance for peace — and that chance will definitely increase if we each do our piece. It is ultimately up to us, each one of us, all of us, individually and together, to create the kind of world in which we want to live — to be the change we seek — starting right here, right now. Within the context of our immediate lives, within the concentric circles of our ordinary interactions. With each step that we take, we must walk our talk, speak our truth and put our money where our mouth is. ~  Mama Donna Henes, “Being Change Changes Everything”

Japanese translation for meaning

Japanese translation for meaning

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artisthttp://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Jazz In Your Ear ~ How to Listen to Jazz and Connect with the Universe Within Like a Pro ~ featuring The Shadow Of Your Smile ~2 Styles Dizzy Gillespie and Kenny G ~ Can U Hear Me Now?

Listening to the Universe within

Listening to the Universe within

When I started listening ( I mean really listening) to jazz music, it was daunting at first.  It was sorta like when I began meditating, I fell asleep! Ouch!  My bad! So this can happen to you when you first listened but even if it doesn’t it could be very enlightening by learning jazz lingo and what to listen for.  I am going to kick off 2014 with a weekly breakdown of the 7 aphorisms of understanding and listening to jazz.  Now that doesn’t have anything to do with the way you impart your style, swagger or look, so don those kicks, put on your favorite shades, grab the chaise and lean in and let the riffs begin.  Here are tips of what to listen for:

∞       How the soloist and the chord playing musician interact. 

∞  Comping (an abbreviation for “accompanying”) is a term used in jazz music to describe chordsrhythms, and counter melodies that keyboard players (piano or organ) or guitar players use to support a jazz musician’s (horn player’s) improvised solo or melody lines.

∞   Call and Response is an interaction between musicians.   The first is the Call phrase is played and the second phrase played is the commentary or Response to the first phrase. It corresponds to the call and response pattern found in a conversation between two people.  It is the basic element of musical form and is the most popular music phrasing in jazz.

∞       Rhythm ~ The backbone and is the most critical component of jazz.  Listen to how the drummer strengthens the bass player. In a Walking bassline the bass and drummer on the ride cymbal are playing the same rhythm.  When the bass player is not playing a walking bassline, the drummer will solo and will play the a dramatically improvised phrase.

∞       Solo Improvisation is where the artist will play without the accompaniment of the drummer. The soloist will sometimes lock on to an idea or phrase and the drummer will mimic the phrase during their improvisational exchange (call and response).

∞       Melody & Timing:   When listening to the solo improvisation keep the song’s melody and rhythm timing in your head to know where the musicians are in the song.  After the musicians have finished playing through the “form” of the song, the drummer will generally play some sort of rhythmic phrase to indicate they are going back to the beginning again of the song. (aka HeadChart).

The 1st track performed by Dizzy Gillespie was nominated for the 1966 Grammy.

There is nothing more beautiful than listening to Kenny G.

Two different artistic expressions and improvisations.  How many of the tips did you hear?

Jazz offers a great listening experience and for folks willing and with a little patience you will emotionally respond to the artist that you are listening to. Now it is a whole different talk show when it comes to going live or going Memorex.  Dizzy was a total performer and somewhat of a comedian when it came to being on stage. I thought I would give you an example …

Uploaded on Nov 21, 2008

Dizzy Gillespie and quintet recorded in 1965 to coincide with the release of the album Dizzy on The French Riviera, with Kenny Barron replacing Lalo Schifrin on piano.

Trumpet – Dizzy Gillespie
Saxaphone/Flute – James Moody
Bass – Christopher White
Piano – Kenny Barron
Drums – Rudy Collins

2 days left to MJF.  If you can’t be there in person, then join me and we will go there in our minds, after all Sun Ra got it…Space Is the Place especially when it’s a head trip…Peace Out!  JBC 8-)

Copyright © 2011-14 by Jazzybeatchick. All rights reserved.

This material has been copyrighted,  feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and, provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name @ http://jazzybeatchick.com and your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

, , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Jazz on Canvas ~ In Camera: The Men From Monterey ~ 3 Jazz men, 20 year Reunion & Me It Does Not Get Any Better Than This…featuring Gil Fuller & Monterey Jazz Festival Orchestra – “Man From Monterey” – 2007 – Remaster

Romare Bearden Jazz  Collages

Romare Bearden Jazz Collages

“I’m saying: to be continued, until we meet again. Meanwhile, keep on listening and tapping your feet.” ~   Count Basie

Excerpt from memoir. This was a conversation I had with my father on the way to the tenth Rehearsal of the MJFO in July, 1965….
The sunrise cast a warm glow through my picture window early Monday morning.  Dad is sitting at the piano in our living room making last-minute notations for the songs for rehearsal later today.  He is my five a.m. wake up call. I would hear dulcet tones sending a breath of notes across my mind to the beat of my existence.  It was a series of riffs and changes with a syncopated harmonic intent.  It had a rhythm that majestically brought a sense of devotion to each note.  The sound of him hitting each piano key gave the house a mystery, transforming life and setting our house apart from the rest of the houses on Wilton Place.

As we are driving to the rehearsal studio my dad turned to me I gave up traveling with the band so that I could devote myself to my family. I am really excited about getting back into the groove again.   You know Dizzy chose me to serve as music director and conductor for the Orchestra this year. In the ‘40’s I wrote Dizzy’s arrangements . That’s where we met.  Back in the day we played Bebop with folks like Charlie Parker and Thelonious Monk.  We were best known for songs like “Manteca”, “Things are Here”, “One Bass Hit” and “Tin Tin Deo”. 

I know that I have offered you guitar lessons, but, being a musician, writer or singer leads to a hard life for you.  I know that you can do anything you want but just not anything creative because traditionally women are not appreciated or respected.  I am telling you this because I am your father.  I really want the best life for you. 

 I am numb.  I look at him hoping that he was joking but he quickly turned away, he is guilty of committing that very tradition in his orchestra.

We rode for the last 20 minutes in silence.    It is deafening.  I am the “native” daughter of the Jazz world in the ‘60’s where the reining tradition was parents (‘rents) had the final word.  I slump down in my seat staring out the window trying to recover.  I feel betrayed.   Deep down inside I always felt like I was a visitor especially when it came to expressing my feelings and even more so in the world.  To me being mixed race or checking the “Other” box is a perfect witness to my life.  My father is a very complicated man of contradictions.  So reading and writing poems became my escape.    It liberated me from the labyrinths of insuperable gender and race biases that tend to dissipate little girls like me.

I would hole up in my room for hours overhearing myself admit difficult truths that I could not hide from.  It welcomed creative inspirations into my sensory consciousness.    It gave me the chance to explore and discover the province of sound and words.   I found my rhythm and started writing poems and improvised prose. Mom taught me how to read when I was 3.

The rest of the drive to the rehearsal studio felt lonely.  Everything around me seemed to have vanished along with my excitement.  I shifted trying to compose myself.  I wanted to shake myself free from the volcano that just erupted in my soul.  Suddenly breaking my solitude my father proclaimed We Are Here!  My excitement returned.

The rehearsal was now under way.  It was an invitation to my imagination renewing my love for writing – cultivating a deep joy in my heart.  The studio fell silent. My father began to motion the count as he tapped his foot.  Calm waves from the alto sax and trombones began to move into the downbeat, the cymbal gently touches the shores of 4/4 time….Dizzy’s cheeks puffed out, his crazy angled trumpet bell releases the sounds of surprise announcing …the  Man from Monterey has arrived.

Ralph Gleason from the Chronicle summed up the day’s session perfectly on the album’s liner notes… he wrote The 1965 Monterey Jazz Festival music clearly is designed to last.  This amalgam of the talents of Gillespie and Fuller are insurance that it will. The orchestra played the music at this session for all time, which is the way good jazz is always played.

I had fallen in love with the sound of words, even though I had to keep it a secret.   I credit discovering my inner voice when immersed in the sound and creation of jazz music was realized at today’s session.  Now when I am facing cancer trials and tribulations, I write.  When I am grateful for the wonders of life and God’s blessings, I write.  When I am weary and discouraged, I write.  I always felt that my father didn’t want me to become a writer, it wasn’t until after his death that I found out it was just his way of letting me know that if I can take all the adversity and really feel that I had to write,  then I must write…..  Peace Out!  JBC 8-)

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Jazz On Canvas ~The MJFO Rehearsal 1965 Tributes the Upcoming 57th Annual Monterey Jazz Festival 2014 continues to Create a Magical Experience

 

2014 MJF Poster

2014 MJF Poster

You still have 5 days to enter a contest to escape to San Diego! In partnership with Alaska Airlines and Monterey Regional Airport, win a round trip for two plus accommodations to San Diego, or win Arena tickets to next year’s Monterey Jazz Festival!  Click here for more details! http://bit.ly/1pqaIc5

An estimated 500 + artists will be performing nonstop on 8 stages for 3 nights and 2 days of the world’s best jazz.

Voted “World’s Best Jazz Festival” by the readers of JazzTimes Magazine in 2006, 2007 and 2008, the Monterey Jazz Festival offers 20 acres of magnificent oak-studded grounds for fans to enjoy, featuring films, conversations with the Festival’s stars, exhibitions, food and beverages, an international shopping bazaar, and 8 stages of live jazz entertainment spread throughout the grounds.

Here is an excerpt from my memoir  circa 1965.  See why the Monterey Jazz Festival 2014 re-creates that magical Aha! Moment that subsequently transformed and saved my life.

Getting the Big News…

...It was early morning on Wednesday, April 14th, 1965, I pad to the bathroom to get ready for school.  It was my father’s birthday and I could hear him in my parent’s bedroom contacting the musicians that he wanted to play in the orchestra… he selected for trumpets:  Dizzy Gillespie, Freddie Hill, Harry Edison, Melvin Moor & John Audino/ trombones:  Lester Robinson, Francis Fitzpatrick & Jim Amlotte/French Horns:  Herman Lebow, Sam Cassano, David Duke & Alan Robinson/reeds:  Buddy Collete, Gabe Balthazar, Bill Giden, Carrington Visor, Jr., Bill Garden & Jack Nimitz/guitar:  Dennis Budimir/piano:  Phil Moore, Jr./bass:  Jimmy Bond/drums:  Earl Palmer.  When my dad was setting up for the rehearsal dates, I was sitting at the table in the family room beside him drawing pictures and reading.  He would look over and smile and wink at me.  The rehearsals started in mid-June and my father made arrangements for the orchestra to rehearse till the middle of August at MDM Rehearsal Studios in Los Angeles near the L.A. Zoo.

The early evening sky was ashen; it was the last day of school dad came and picked my brother and I up at the school playground.  I was a tomboy and loved to play softball.  When dad whistled we both looked up and saw the car, we ran to the car and jumped in the back seat.  My dad smiled saying “You guys smell like plucked chickens!  We all laughed.  We were now on our way to pick up my mom who taught at an elementary school in Compton.  I always wondered why my mother didn’t lock us in a closet when we got home because she taught students that were the same age as we were, she never did though.  We saw mom and were jumping with joy as dad scolded us to sit still and be quite.

It was quite difficult living and growing up in a racially segregated city like Los Angeles in the 60’s.   I didn’t fit into any group. The jazz world was the only place I felt safe.  Jazz culture had transformed and wasvery  healing because social tensions became gist for self-expression in the musician’s solo performances.  That’s it for now.  Stayed tuned, there’s more… Now that’s Jazz, Peace Out! JBC <3  8-)

Japanese translation for meaning

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

, , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Jazz on Canvas ~ Poet’s Beat ~ Notes on the Art of Memory by Diane di Palma accompanied by Monk’s Dream Take 8

Kadinsky and the Spiritual in Art

Kadinsky and the Spiritual in Art

Jazz Mimesis is an imitation of Aristotle’sPoetics” exploring a critical and philosophical premise covering a wide range of meanings as relates to Poet’s Beat category of this blog.   I imagine that when Diane wrote this poem she was grooving to this melody.  Peace Out!  JBC 8-)

“The only war that matters is the war against the imagination / All other wars are subsumed in its’ and of whom her contemporary….” Beat poet Michael McClure, commented, “There is no other poet like Diane di Prima.” 

For the past twenty years she has lived and worked in northern California, where she took part in the political activities of the Diggers, lived in a late-sixties’ commune, studied Zen Buddhism, Sanskrit and alchemy, and raised her five children. From 1980 to 1986 she taught hermetic and esoteric traditions in poetry, in a short-lived but significant program at New College of California. Her work has been translated into over twenty languages.

 Notes on the Art of Memory

by Diane di Palma

for Thelonious Monk

The Stars are a memory system

for thru them

                                    we remember our origin

Our home is behind the sun

or a divine wind

                                               that fills us

makes us think so.

 

 

Copyright © 2011-2014 by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted,  feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and, provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name @ http://jazzybeatchick.com and your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

 

Japanese translation for meaning

, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

5 Comments

Jazz in Your Ear

Listening to the Universe within

Listening to the Universe within

 

 

“Zen is not some kind of excitement, but concentration on our usual everyday routine.” – Shunryu Suzuki

 

 

 

 

A riff shot of mindfulness improv moment ~  meditations  of words with kool jazz 2 kick ur life into gear!  Peace Out!  JBC 8-)

Overflowing Cup of Tea

The Zen Master poured his visitor’s teacup full, and then kept pouring.
The visitor watched until he could no longer restrain himself.
“It is overfull. No more will go in!”
“Like this cup,” the Zen Master said,
“you are full of your own opinions and assumptions.
How can you learn truth until you first empty your cup?”

Japanese translation for meaning

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

, , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Are We There Yet? Jazz Bytes ~ My Fave Multi-Layered Scallion Pancakes by Mandy @ Lady and pups • Food trucks roll into Monterey for Street Food Festival by By Dennis Taylor feat. Gil Fuller & Monterey Jazz Festival – Big Sur – 2007 – Remaster

For you Foodies that want to get your grub on at the Festival here is my all time favorite Street Food…Bon Appétit!  JBC <3

Multi-Layered Scallion Pancakes

By Mandy @ Lady and pups •

Author Notes: Here’s a recipe for creating one of the beloved street snacks in Taiwan, thin and soft flatbread with multi-laminated diced scallions and scallion oil.

NOTE: One of the tricks, I believe, is not to roll the dough to such deadly thinness that you lose the layers. The first roll-out, when you apply the scallion oil, should be slightly thinner than 1/8 inch. And the final roll-out should be a bit thicker than 1/16 inch. Any thinner than that, and you’ll flatten out all the work you’ve done. I’m not gonna lie: You may fail the first time. But it will eventually take you to yummy town.

There’s no reason why the awesomeness of this flatbread can’t be expanded to other herbs besides scallion. Think basil, a little rosemary, thyme, or garlic and parsley. Whatever you have on hand, really, is going to turn these flatbread into great snacks or a show-stealing addition to a bread basket (don’t you loooove bread baskets!?) ~ Mandy @ Lady and pups

 

Makes 4 large flatbreads.

Dough:

  • 1cup (130 grams) all-purpose flour
  • 1cup (140 grams) bread flour
  • 2teaspoons sugar
  • 1/4teaspoon salt
  • 1/2cup (120 grams) hot/warm water (150° F)
  • 1/4cup cold/room-temperature water
  • 1/4cup (50 grams) vegetable oil

Scallion oil and fillings

  • 2cups (105 grams) diced scallions, divided
  • 1/2cup (100 grams) vegetable oil
  • 1teaspoon salt
  • 1teaspoon ground white pepper, divided into 1/2 teaspoon each
  • 1/4teaspoon ground black pepper
  • 1/8teaspoon baking soda
  • Coarse sea salt, to taste
  • More vegetable oil for frying

 

  1. TO MAKE THE DOUGH: Mix all-purpose flour, bread flour, sugar, and salt together in the bowl of a stand mixer. Bring a small pot of water to 150º F (it should be almost too hot to touch but NOT close to a simmer), then with the machine running on low, add 1/2 cup of the hot water into the flour mixture. Mix for 1 minute or so. The mixture will still look like loose flours with large lumps. Then add 1/4 cup of cold water and mix for 1 minute, and then add 1/4 cup of vegetable oil. Turn the machine to medium-high speed and knead the dough for 5 minutes until shiny and elastic. The dough will be very wet and sticking to the side of the bowl in the beginning (if it seems tacky already, add 1 teaspoon of water), but it should slowly pull away cleanly at the end of kneading. When you lift the dough hook, the wet dough should droop down from the hook slowly.
  2. If you must knead with your hands, you can. But keep in mind that this is quite a wet dough and it will stick to your hands while kneading. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let the dough rest for at least 1 hour.
  3. TO MAKE THE SCALLION OIL AND FILLING: Add 1 cup of diced scallions, vegetable oil, salt, 1/2 teaspoon of ground white pepper and 1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper in a blender and blend until smooth. Transfer into a bowl. Take 3 tablespoons of the mixture out into another bowl and add 1/8 teaspoon of baking soda, mix until combined and keep both in the fridge. Mix the rest of the 1 cup of diced scallion with 1/2 tsp of ground white pepper, set aside.
  4. TO MAKE THE FLATBREADS: Divide the dough into 4 portions and set on a well-floured surface. Take 1 portion, dust with more flour, and roll it into about a 1/8-inch sheet. Apply a generous layer of scallion oil (mixed with baking soda) and sprinkle 2 tablespoons of diced scallions over the sheet, then fold it in the same direction 3 times (like folding a letter) into a log, then fold the log lengthwise 2 times into a round shape (try to eliminate as much air as possible while you fold). Set aside (to let it rest) and repeat the same process with the other 3 portions.
  5. Now go back to the first dough you worked on (which has had a few minutes to rest) and press it down gently into a thick, flat disk. There will be air pockets in between the layers which will make it hard to roll out, so pierce the dough a few times with a fork and dust with only enough flour to prevent sticking, then roll into a large circle slightly thicker than 1/16 inch. (Be careful not to over-roll it because you’ll risk flattening all the layers.) If the dough springs back stubbornly, rest it for another 2 min. If you want to keep the flatbreads in the freezer, laminate the rolled-out doughs in between two sheets of parchment paper and tuck inside a zip-lock bag. Keep frozen until needed.
  6. Heat 2 tablespoons of oil in a large, nonstick skillet over medium heat. Carefully lift the dough up and transfer to the skillet. Cook over medium-low heat, add more oil if needed, and cook until golden brown on both sides (it’s important to add enough oil). The baking soda will create bubbles in between layers during cookings. Right off the skillet while it’s still hot, brush the top with more scallion oil (without baking soda). Serve immediately.

This recipe is a Community Pick!

I thought that you would like to see the Foodies Goodies from a Street food festival that will be also appearing at this year’s Jazz Festival  ~

Food trucks roll into Monterey for Street Food Festival

dtaylor@montereyherald.com @mchdennistaylor on Twitter

 

Food fest at the Monterey Jazz Festival

Food fest at the Monterey Jazz Festival

 

MONTEREY >> On a picturesque Monterey Peninsula famous for froufrou food festivals, the Monterey County Fair & Event Center was the place to be Saturday for anyone who wears a Timex instead of a Rolex, and would rather wear a T-shirt than a silk shirt.

Nobody needed a $500 ticket to get into the Monterey Street Food Festival — admission was free — and most of the “top chefs” did their cooking on the inside of brightly painted food trucks. And if all of those T-shirt-wearing critics are to be believed, the cuisine was just as delectable as anything at Pebble Beach Food & Wine.

“We just happened to be driving by today, saw all the cars and decided to stop and see what was going on,” said Carmel resident Tina Claypool as she and her husband, Joe, lunched on tri-tip and calamari from Spice It Up Catering. “We were hoping there would be food inside, but we had no idea it was a food festival. We’re new to the area — we’ve been living in England for the past three years — and I thought maybe they were having horse races or something.”

“This is great,” Joe added. “I wish they did this every weekend, or a couple of times a month. It would be a nice place to stop and have lunch.”

There were offerings to suit almost every taste. Kukisbowl offered Japanese cuisine. The menu at Beyond the Border included Pacific Rockfish tacos, chimichurri steak salad, and chipotle ranch chicken, The Little Red Barn, a Salinas company, hyped its “world famous potatoes,” corn nachos, bacon, barbecue and broccoli. Omininjasi served up garlic ginger rice, bun vermicelli noodles, sweet potato tots and green waffles. At India Gourmet, the options included naan wrap, lamb or chicken curry, spinach saag and mixed vegetables.

Joe Claypool of Carmel tears off a piece of potato from a Tornado Potato at the third annual Monterey Street Food Festival on Saturday. Joe and his wife, Tina, who recently moved back to the United States from England, were driving by the fairgrounds when they noticed all the cars parked outside and decided to stop themselves. (Vernon McKnight/Herald Correspondent)

At Maha’s Lebanese Cuisine, they lined up for falafel sandwiches, chicken, beef or lamb shawarma, and mixed kabob.

“We come down from Redwood City every year and it’s an awful lot of fun,” said Richard Deutsch through the window of the Old Port Lobster Snackmobile, where the specialties included “lobstah rolls,” “lobstah crunch,” pulled pork, and baked macaroni and cheese. “I also have four Lobster Shack restaurants — one in Redwood City, one in Portola Valley, and two in San Jose — but I love coming to this event, where we get a lot of families, young people, old people . . . it’s a blast.”

The soundtrack for the five-hour festival was provided by Jake Nielsen’s Triple Threat, a Santa Cruz blues/rock trio, and additional culture arrived with the Monterey Library’s Bookmobile, which offered gourmet pretzels.

Fouad Aridi of Lebanon, working with his family, owners of Maha’s Lebanese Cuisines of Monterey, turns a potato into a Tornado Potato at the Monterey Street Food Festival on Saturday. (Vernon McKnight/Herald Correspondent)

“We like to do outreach at a lot of the community events, which is why we’re here today,” explained Joanne White, a library assistant at Monterey Public Library. “We like to tell the kids about our summer reading program, which is coming up next month, and we also like signing people up for library cards. And if I wasn’t here, I’d be in the library all day, so this is a fun day for me.”

“I actually live right down the street, but this is the first time I’ve ever been to this event,” said Andrea Bruno. “I think it’s great. It’s a free event. The whole family can come. There’s live music. The food is great. They should do this every weekend.”

Fouad Aridi of Lebanon, working with his family, owners of Maha’s Lebanese Cuisines of Monterey, deep fries a Tornado Potato at the Monterey Street Food Festival on Saturday. (Vernon McKnight/Herald Correspondent)

 

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

, , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Do You Know the Way to Monterey? Tribute to the 2014 Monterey Jazz Festival

2014 MJF Poster

Gear Up!  Get your bags packed, book your weekend and flight to Monterey for the upcoming 57th Annual Monterey Jazz Festival on Friday September 19th.  Don’t forget your shades, your cool swagger and most of all your insatiable acoustic and visual appetite for Jazz at its finest.  This is especially something that I look forward to every year since 1965 inspiring me to write a book filled with acoustic and visual recreations of the festival that became the template for A Year of Musical Thinking.

The 2015 MJF  is an acoustic and visual meditative journey traversing the extraordinary and intriguing   lives and careers of the  1965 Men from Monterey jazz legends – Gil Fuller, Dizzy Gillespie and James Moody.   It will be a contemporary and archival film, along with commentary from the jazz and pop sounds; visual contemporary  and literary arts worlds, to create and explore through mindfulness improvisation gaining a better understand these enigmatic men and their spiritual expression and pursuit through jazz. Gil Fuller was top arranger and band leader for the 1965 Monterey Jazz Festival Orchestra featuring Dizzy Gillespie and James Moody who were celebrating their twenty year reunion.  Fuller was credited with enhancing the careers of Dizzy Gillespie and James Moody providing the catalyst for their mindfulness improvisational genius that liberated their uniqueness and expression so they could discover themselves.  An interview with Vincent Pelote a renown jazz historian provided a glimpse of Gil Fuller using own Impressive, moving, stirring, and touching words and music rendering a prosaic and poetic thread that becomes a wonderful tapestry of  his life and the gifts he gave to me to through acoustic and visual snapshots of the unique aspects of our life together.  Here is a sample and one that I play in my car with the top down and cruising the Peninsula:  Enjoy!  Peace Out!  JBC 8-)

Here is a special treat check out this trailer… Directed by Jeffrey Morse andDorothy Darr, the latter who is Charles Lloyd‘s painter/filmmaker wife, the documentary Charles Lloyd: Arrows Into Infinity chronicles the influential saxophonist and composer’s life and career range.

Charles Lloyd was one of the most influential jazz musicians of the 1960s. His music crossed traditional boundaries and explored new territories. Born in Memphis, he grew up steeped in the blues but with an ear for modernity. At the age of 26, he was a bandleader with two successful records on Columbia Records, including Forest Flower, recorded live at the Monterey Jazz Festival in 1966. His group, the Charles Lloyd Quartet, consisted of an undiscovered Keith Jarrett, Jack DeJohnette and Cecil McBee.

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artisthttp://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

 

, , , , , , , , , , , ,

3 Comments

Jazz in Ur Ear

Welcome to a Mindfulness improv moment that is A riff shot of words/sounds 2 mack ur day on!  Peace Out!  JBC 8-)

Listening to the Universe within

Listening to the Universe within

…“Loving others always costs us…u have 2 decide 2 do it on purpose. U can’t wait 4 a feeling 2 motivate you.”  ~ J. Meyer

, , , , ,

Leave a comment

Jazz on Canvas ~ In Camera: Human v. Technology Are We Loosing Creativity, Our Sense of Purpose, God Given Gifts of Love, Compassion to Risk It All and Relinquishing it to A New Aesthetic?

B/W broken-people-depressed-Favim.com-578906 (1)

B/W broken-people-depressed-Favim.com-578906 (1)

 

“In a sense, technology is already a fundamental part of our humanity and because of it we are transitioning from a verbal culture into a one where spoken language is essentially dead. Sharing our thoughts through pictures, like buttons, and online profiles have become our primary form of communication alongside artistic expression. When the two are combined, we are left with a bizarre yet relatable aesthetic. Social networking websites function as an ideal medium for the infectious phenomena of digitized art.”  ~ Elizabeth Heitner’s blog.

You see I have a serious concern and strongly disagree with this.  It is not progress it is de-humanizing us causing us to be automatons.  Albeit it is great to have a computer over a typewriter because it is a tool and not a replacement.  I don’t know about you, but, the new toll free information number is absolutely maddening.  You call and ask an electronic voice for the name of a business or person and the computer spits back something totally ridiculous and you going around and round till you don’t get the listing and the call is terminated.  In the late fifties and early sixties I learned the power of reading and words from my mother and the power of sound and music from my father.  Together it was a nurturing environment that was both physiological and neurological in terms of discovering the five senses of touch, taste, hearing, seeing and most of all feeling.  I can simply close my eyes and recreate and transform an experience into a fully engaged in the moment experience.  Mindfulness improvisation is dependent upon that.  Moreover, it is not predicated or reliant upon power, WiFi signals or technology.

American culture can sometimes be fickle especially when it comes to trends and the hottest new technological advances with smart phones and home alarm systems that can be remotely activated.  The New Aesthetic is allegedly considered an artistic movement. It must be described as physical versus virtual, or humans versus machines.  Technology can only exist when created by humans.  With that comes the inherent disability limited to the individual’s capability who designs it. Its major visual emblems include “pixilated images”, “Photoshop glitches” and animated GIFs.   Where would all of this be if the illustrators and artist genus of Walt Disney.  Data visualization,  i.e., Venn diagram are considered a part of the New Aesthetic in addition to Google Maps and “screen grabs”.  Another popular trend is the Selfie where photos of people taking photos in awkward moments.  Hands down, I prefer photographs by photographers who have a passion to snap pix of nature, oceans, people and life.  It is through their lens that we develop pictures to make us laugh or cry or conjure up memories of times gone by.

Stepping_stones

Stepping_stones

The New Aesthetic is superficial and shallow but most of all is limited to the creators abilities to use and master the technology. When video games came out like Dungeons and Dragons it hit the youth market and became an all encompassing phenomenon that led to a disconnect to human existence.  The virtual world become a reality and that reality was marred by violence and an inability to communicate.  It was so much fun going to the movies or seeing a play on Broadway or going to an outdoor festival and concert.  It draws like minded people together.  Improvisation will no longer exist.  Imagination will no longer exist.  Mindfulness will become vacuous and is the very threat to our culture and life on earth.

The New Aesthetic is robbing and replacing our reason and purpose to honor our differences and to communicate feelings and ideas through language, contemporary visual arts and music.  What happens to the artists writers, musicians when it comes to the very thing that makes us love, care, share, hope and imagine an inner glimpse of our souls.  It is not limited by anything and somehow you cannot replace experience ~ good or bad, personal growth and transformation and finding our way in this big vast universe because God created us to be the way we are and unraveling the mysteries of life whether there is power or not.  I’ll take books, plays, concerts and life in its purest and simplest form not relying on anything else but each other.  Peace Out!   JBC 8-)

Japanese translation for meaning

 

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artisthttp://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

 

, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Conversations on a Jazz Canvas ~ The Best Laid Plans …Are “No” Plans featuring Sun Ra’s – Exactly Like You

Concept Photo of Piping and Instrument Diagram, Human Eye, World

Concept Photo of Piping and Instrument Diagram, Human Eye, World

We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.”  Joseph Campbell

 

I woke up this morning to gray skies with the air punctuated with a gentle rain. Fall seems to be just around the corner. Resistance has brought me to realize that sometimes I can be my own worst enemy which spirals into full blown sleep walking.  I am disconnected from the present.  Fear that my secret will come to light.  I cannot  identify the exact moment that my life fell apart. Holidays sometimes brings on these feelings of resistance – pain, being abandoned, feelings of not measuring up.  Old tapes begin to play tricks with my mind I hear “You can’t write,  you will never finish your plans to write a memoir, blah blah blah.”  I just wanted the pain of the “brokenness” to stop. I knew I could make a better choice, but it was the last thing I thought I could do. The other choice was to give myself permission to feel the pain, fear, and devastation of my world.  So I stop, focus on my breath and reconnect with my heart and soul.  Everything that happens externally is a reflection of what goes on internally. Mindfulness improv gives us the power to change our perspective.  If you  start by focusing on one belief it will transform it and the healing will be reflected outwardly. It’s this realization that prompted me to start mindfulness improvisation with jazz as the template, the catalyst of the mindfulness and sound creates the space where we can all learn to heal, and not just exist or We all have the amazing potential to create purpose, passion, and joy in life, but first we need to believe and graciously accept the fact that we truly deserve it.

I feel so alive and energized. But I kept hearing my dad’s voice about my change in attitude. So I stopped and allowed the fear to run its course, you’re not good enough, you’ll never get it, it said. Change is life’s mainstay. Perfection, fear and change cannot take center stage at the same time. So, this past week I opted for change. Life has become way more fun, open and I accept the imperfections because they are part of the process. The discomfort that creeps into the space of doubt about sailing into uncharted waters, serves as a gentle reminder and allows me to be more creative.

Letting go of how things were, no matter how fractured things may seem, is not an easy task. It takes a ginormous amount of energy and courage to let go because it is an inside job. It instills grace. Grace to forgive myself and others, to let go of ideas of who I think I am or should be and how I think things and others should be. This allows me to surrender, replacing my old negative thoughts with hope. Change happens whether I choose to be a part or not. Fear is human. Most of us feel at one point or another something that makes us afraid. When I change my thoughts from Why is this happening to me to I have dealt with circumstances like this before and reflect and remember them, the fear stops dead in its tracks.  Developing the courage to walk along side your fears and transforming the steps (words) in a direction of what you want, the possibly be fearful and being positive cannot exist at the same time.  You cannot be afraid and have faith that things will get better.  You begin to walk your positive self talk and there is a shift in not only your mood but a shift in your perspective.  Change any overly independent thoughts such as “I’ll handle this alone” to “I have many sources of help, if I simply ask.” Shift any terrorizing thoughts such as “This is THE worst thing that could happen to me” to “I’ve handled other challenges in my life, and I’m sure I’ll survive this one.”  My new mantra has become, “Let go and Let God!” Peace out!  JBC 8-)

Japanese translation for meaning

Copyright © 2011 – 2014 by Jazzybeatchick/Jannat Marie. All rights reserved.

This material is has been copyrighted,  feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks and added to websites; please do not change the content, provide credit by including the author’s name @ http://jazzybeatchick.com and your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

 

 

, , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Poet’s Beat to Jazz Bytes ~ “A Something in a Summer’s Day” by Emily Dickinson ~Julia Child’s Tian de Courgettes au Riz Courtesy of Genius Recipes • August 14, 2012 • featuring Kyle Eastwood – “Summer Gone”

For the moment, the jazz is playing; there is no melody, just notes, a myriad of tiny tremors. The notes know no rest, an inflexible order gives birth to them then destroys them, without ever leaving them the chance to recuperate and exist for themselves. . . I would like to hold them back, but I know that, if I succeeded in stopping one, there would only remain in my hand a corrupt and languishing sound. I must accept their death; I must even want that death: I know of few more bitter or intense impressions. ~ Jean-Paul Sartre

 

 Hope you all are kickin’ the Labor Day weekend off in true style and sophistication. I am paying a tribute to all that are celebrating their labors of love.  I thought I would start of with a lovely poem by Emily to the sultry sounds of Kyle’s Summer Gone and finishing up with Julia’s Zucchini Tian.  Best Wishes…Peace Out!  JBC 8-)

A Something in a Summer’s Day

by Emily Dickinson

A something in a summer’s Day
As slow her flambeaux burn away
Which solemnizes me.
A something in a summer’s noon—
A depth—an Azure—a perfume—
Transcending ecstasy.

And still within a summer’s night
A something so transporting bright
I clap my hands to see—

Then veil my too inspecting face
Lets such a subtle—shimmering grace
Flutter too far for me—

The wizard fingers never rest—
The purple brook within the breast
Still chafes it narrow bed—

Still rears the East her amber Flag—
Guides still the sun along the Crag
His Caravan of Red—

So looking on—the night—the morn
Conclude the wonder gay—
And I meet, coming thro’ the dews
Another summer’s Day!

Julia Child‘s Tian de Courgettes au Riz

Courtesy of Genius Recipes • August 14, 2012

 

Julia Child's Tian de Courgettes au Riz  Courtesy of Genius Recipes • August 14, 2012

Julia Child’s Tian de Courgettes au Riz Courtesy of Genius Recipes • August 14, 2012

Author Notes: Two-plus pounds of zucchini doesn’t look so demanding once you shred, salt, and squeeze it dry. It sheds its water weight, leaving a tamed pile and a lot of green, lightly salted liquid. You could simply warm the shreds through with onions and garlic or simmer in cream — or cook it into this smart zucchini and rice tian. From Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Volume Two (Alfred A. Knopf, 1970) (less) – Genius Recipes

Serves 6

 

Courgettes Rapées (Grated and Salted Zucchini)

  • 2 to 2 1/2pounds zucchini
  • 1/2cup plain, raw, untreated white rice
  • 1cup minced onions
  • 3 to 4tablespoons olive oil
  • 2large cloves garlic, mashed or finely minced
  • 2tablespoons flour
  • About 2 1/2cups warm liquid: zucchini juices plus milk, heated in a pan (watch this closely so that it doesn’t curdle)
  • About 2/3cups grated Parmesan cheese (save 2 tablespoons for later)
  • Salt and pepper
  • A heavily buttered 6- to 8-cup, flameproof baking and serving dish about 1 1/2 inches deep
  • 2tablespoons olive oil
  1. Shave the stem and the tip off each zucchini (or other summer squash), scrub the vegetable thoroughly but not harshly with a brush under cold running water to remove any clinging sand or dirt.
  2. If vegetables are large, halve or quarter them. If seeds are large and at all tough, and surrounding flesh is coarse rather than moist and crisp, which is more often the case with yellow squashes and striped green cocozelles than with zucchini, cut out and discard the cores.
  3. Rub the squash against the coarse side of a grater, and place grated flesh in a colander set over a bowl.
  4. For each 1 pound (2 cups) of grated squash, toss with 1 teaspoon of salt, mixing thoroughly. Let the squash drain 3 or 4 minutes, or until you are ready to proceed.
  5. Just before cooking, squeeze a handful dry and taste. If by any chance the squash is too salty, rinse in a large bowl of cold water, taste again; rinse and drain again if necessary. Then squeeze gently by handfuls, letting juices run back into bowl. Dry on paper towels. Zucchini will not be fluffy; it is still dampish, but the excess liquid is out. The pale-green, slightly saline juice drained and squeezed out of the zucchini has a certain faint flavor that can find its uses in vegetable soups, canned soups, or vegetable sauces.

Tian de Courgettes au Riz [Gratin of Zucchini, Rice, and Onions with Cheese]

  1. While the shredded zucchini is draining (reserve the juices,) drop the rice into boiling salted water, bring rapidly back to the boil, and boil exactly 5 minutes; drain and set aside.
  2. In a large (11-inch) frying pan, cook the onions slowly in the oil for 8 to 10 minutes until tender and translucent. Raise heat slightly and stir several minutes until very lightly browned.
  3. Stir in the grated and dried zucchini and garlic. Toss and turn for 5 to 6 minutes until the zucchini is almost tender.
  4. Sprinkle in the flour, stir over moderate heat for 2 minutes, and remove from heat.
  5. Gradually stir in the 2 1/2 cups warm liquid (zucchini juices plus milk, heated gently in a pan — don’t let it get so hot that the milk curdles!). Make sure the flour is well blended and smooth.
  6. Return over moderately high heat and bring to the simmer, stirring. Remove from the heat again, stir in the blanched rice and all but 2 tablespoons of the cheese. Taste very carefully for seasoning. Turn into buttered baking dish, strew remaining cheese on top, and dribble the olive oil over the cheese.
  7. About half an hour before serving, bring to simmer on top of stove (you can skip this step if your baking dish isn’t flameproof), then set in upper third of a preheated 425-degree F oven until tian is bubbling and top has browned nicely. The rice should absorb all the liquid.

 

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

 

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Jazz on Canvas ~ In Camera: Jazz and the New Aesthetic ~ Sounds by Rens Newland – “About aesthetics” ~ and Dizzy Gillespie’s “Things are Here”~ Photography by Roy Decarava ~ Prelude

In Memory and Rezpect ~ Roy DeCarava Flickr Sharing

In Memory and Rezpect ~ Roy DeCarava Flickr Sharing

“It starts before you snap the shutter… It starts with your sense of what’s important.” These are the words of Roy DeCarava, one of the foremost photographic artists of the twentieth century, contributor to the Family of Man exhibit and the first black photographer to receive a Guggenheim Fellowship. These are the words of a man who focuses his lens, sensitivities and conscience on the life, tempo and sensibilities of black people and the contemporary urban environment.

The first time I met Mr. DeCarava was when I was five years old. We lived on Riverside Drive and my father knew him as an up and coming photographer and he became our family photographer most of all a dear friend.  He took family pictures that I have lost over the years of moving around the country.  However, he had a distinct “eye” for the details of our daily life.

Flickr Share Roy Decarava 4th of July, Prospect Park, New York, 1979

Flickr Share Roy Decarava 4th of July, Prospect Park, New York, 1979

 

There was one photograph that effortlessly appears when listening to jazz guitarist Rens Newland’s “About aesthetics” is a sepia toned photograph of New York Ciy Riverside Park across from our loft taken in the late ‘50s on the Saturday just before  Labor Day.  Mr. DeCarava was capturing families and folks in the park.  We would always go out on the weekends either to the park, movies, museums, etc .  Mom was wearing a brown striped sun dress; I was wearing one of my Sunday best dresses that was white with red polka dots with white socks with black patent leather Mary Jane’s. My father was sitting on a bench, mom was looking down at both of us and I was holding a bottle of  Coca Cola that was three quarters my height at the tender age of five that dad had given to me.  He wanted to pour the soda into my mouth,  Mr. DeCarva was perched in a tree about five yards from us and he captured my snatching the Coca Cola bottle away from dad declaring “I do it, I do it” turning away from him and lifting the bottle straight up and didn’t miss a drop.  The shutter closed on each and every frame as though watching a slow motion film with a syncopated tempo.  Mr. DeCarava was so excited he ran over and said to us “that was crazy man!”  My mother and father laughed and I was looking at these old folks wondering what was so funny…  There was no such thing as a digital professional cameras back then.

 

Courtesy of Creative Commons Administrative Offices

Courtesy of Creative Commons Administrative Offices

In the early 60s technology was in its infancy stage.  Mom had cradled me and taught me how to read at three years old.  My father was very busy and had a grand piano in the loft that he would let me sit next to him and he would teach me how to sight sing and hearing while watching him play the keys.  Sometimes he even let me stand in front of him and he would move my hands and we would sing the notes.  It was the same way he taught me how to ball room dance atop his feet.  It was an enchanting time and when I actually remember falling in love with reading with mom or sitting on the piano bench learning jazz at the piano and sitting on the couch nestled between my rents looking at photographs.  My world was either black and white or sepia which felt as though it was a treasure of times gone past and something that made me feel safe and warm and most of all loved.  Today, when I reflect on those times the aesthetics were a part of liminal living.  It was commonplace to go the Metropolitan Museum of Art, to movie theaters, Broadway plays, a chic and marvelous urban living that held magic and secrets hidden in the streets.

Roy Decarava's Boy in printed shirt, New York, 1978 Flickr Share

Roy Decarava’s Boy in printed shirt, New York, 1978 Flickr Share

Now it seems that the more we include technology in our lives, i.e. iPhone, IPad, iPod, Androids, laptops, tablets, Xbox the list is growing exponentially.  I think it happened overnight.  Growing up it was a big deal to have a Black and White television set.  However, I know that I am not too old to remember that life and school was about developing and creating and finding out about the world and making your way in the world.  Slowly but surely technology is seeping into our lives and causing a sense of “dissociative identity disorder” that is manifesting and causes us to live in a virtual reality plunging us into a chaos that is impacts and influences how we conduct our lives.  If  we  had a brown out or black out folks would absolutely lose their minds  they become filled with anxiety, frustration and not knowing what to do.  Arianna Huffington in her book “Thrive” she speaks of living life plugged into an outlet sort of life you must take back the control in your life and reconnect and reclaim the part of ourselves that makes us who we are.

I honestly believe that the society is reflecting how technology and reliance on it to define and design our life that will become fragmented, mindlessly drawn into a virtual nightmare  that addicts us to our tablets, Xbox and being educated in hybrid classrooms further dis-associating us to the point that we have surrendered to the wrong master.  I want to live a life that is evolving and changing everyday with or without electronic apps, tablets, video.  I know that God has a plan for all of us and we become complacent finding ways to engage and inspire one another.  If this continues we will eventually lose the ability to create and identify aspects of  our lives that we are living.  Mindfulness improvisation is a portal for me to reconnect and reaffirm my life in the present tense and  to effectively and completely live the life that our Creator has Graced and Blessed us with…  See you between the notes…more on Aesthetics, get your shades, kicks and open your mind to explore The New Aesthetic and Jazz terrains and vistas.  Peace Out!  JBC

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

 

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

2 Comments

Poet’s Beat on Jazz Canvas ~ “Letters Of The Unliving” by Mina Loy featuring Photographs of Mina Loy Music by Seattle Women’s Jazz Orchestra – “Two To Tango”

MINA LOY ~ Woman and Poet

MINA LOY ~ Woman and Poet

“Let the beauty of what you love be what you do” ~ Rumi  I try to live by these words and conjure up photos and images that express it.  Mindfulness improvisation allows us to live as film directors creating a movie of our lives, if memorialized it was captured as a film when you were twenty-five years of age.  Dare I say that I know that I am not the same person or character in that film.  That is what makes it an acoustic and visualization “selfie”!  For me jazz has been an integral part of my life and has given me the ability to surrender to Our Creator with my mind body and soul knowing that ii trust and have faith that all things will work out in a beneficial way.  This gives me peace.  Today I am featuring Mina Loy.  She like all of us has something to say and presents a poem that is a counterpoint to living.  Peace Out!  JBC 8-)

 

 

“Letters Of The Unliving”

by Mina Loy

La Maison en papier_drawing and gouache by Mina Loy 1906 Courtesy of Michael Duncan Collection

La Maison en papier_drawing and gouache by Mina Loy 1906 Courtesy of Michael Duncan Collection

The present implies presence
thus
unauthorized by the present
these letters are left authorless –
have lost all origin
since the inscribing hand
lost life.

The harshness of the past
croaks,
from creased leaves
covered with unwritten writing
since death’s erasure
of the writer –
erased the lover

Well-chosen and so ill-relinquished
the husband heartsease –
acme of communion –

made euphonious
our esoteric universe.

Ego’s oasis now’s
the sole companion.

My body and my reason
you left to the drought of your dying:
the longing and the lack
of a racked creature
shouting
to an unanswering hiatus
‘reunite us!’

till slyly
patience creeps up on passion
and the elation of youth
dwindles out of season.

Agony
ends in an equal grave
with ecstasy.

An uneasy mist
rises from this calligraphy of recollection
documenting a terror of dementia.

This package of ago
creaks with the horror of echo.

The bloom of love
decoyed
to decay by the finger
of Hazard the swindler –
deathly handler who leaves
no post-mortem mask
but a callous earth.

Posing the extreme enigma
in my Bewilderness
can your face excelling Adonis
have ceased to be
or ever have had existence?

With you no longer the addresser
there is no addressee
to dally with defunct reality.

Can one who still has being
be inexistent?

I am become
dumb
in answer
to your dead language of amor.

Diminuendo
of life’s imposture
implies no possible retrial
by my present self –
my cloud-corpse
beshadowing your shroud.

The one I was with you:
inhumed in chasms.
No creator
reconstrues scar-tissue
to shine as birth-star.

But to my sub-cerebral surprise
at last on blase sorrow
dawns an iota of disgust
for life’s intemperance:

‘As once you were’

Withhold your ghostly reference
to the sweet once were we.

Leave me
my final illiteracy
of memory’s languor –

my preference
to drift in lenient coma
an older Ophelia
on Lethe.

Submitted by Poem Hunter: Monday, April 19, 2010

 

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

 

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Jazz on Canvas “Wild Chestnuts” an Acoustic and Visual interpretation featuring a Jazz Byte of Chef Marco Pierre White Recipe for Brussel Sprouts with Chestnuts Sounds by James Moody performing “Wild Chestnuts” w/Liner Notes

Courtesy of Creative Commons Wild and beautiful painting

Courtesy of Creative Commons Wild and beautiful painting

 

In America, jazz and the chestnut tree share a part of life  that has given a beautiful and abundantly fluid vistas and terrain all across the eastern United States for  years.  This remained true for jazz until the introduction of Rock and Roll and pop music as well as a fungus from Asia wiped irtually every tree standing in North America.   Both entities  share a rich history and creates a template for “Wild Chestnuts” as a jazz big band sound to get yourself moving and a culinary dish that will tantalize the pallet.

I first heard Bill Hood’s original version of “Wild Chestnuts”, it was an early Sunday morning during Memorial Day weekend of 1965.  The sound traversed from a state of the professional art  stereo  system my father designed with wall to wall speakers that gently negotiated the cream carpeted stairs and breach the threshold into my bedroom that was positioned on the front left end of our house.  It felt as though I was hearing and listening to the pure 100% proof, original composition that likens an artist inspiration in selecting the opaqueness of colors and textures that tells the secret life that jazz and the chestnut tree share with one another.  Kindred spirits in terms of the trials and tribulations that life tosses into the mix that ignites and mobilizes you to want to come up with mindfulness improv to deal with the situation straight on.  The beauty of this original tune for me is hearing and appreciating  my father’s distillation and interpretation that is very special and unique to you and you alone.    Dad’s arrangement seems to take what Tom Reed of WJLB in Detroit, Michigan describes it as “Gil Fuller closes out this tremendous musical surprise package arrangement of “Wild Chestnuts” …as a toe-tapper, finger-snapper which really shouts….”  (Liner Notes) What do you think?  I must agree.  Peace Out!  JBC 8-)

musical_note_clip_art_12518

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

 

, , , , , , , , , , ,

3 Comments

Poet’s Beat on Jazz Canvas ~Theories of Time and Space Written by Natasha Trethewey feat. Seattle Women’s Jazz Orchestra – The Hiding Place Art by Judith Redman

We Are All Human Canvas Print by  - Judith-Redman

We Are All Human Canvas Print by – Judith-Redman

Happy Tuesday Morning!  I have been searching for unique poets that reflect the mood and timbre of American culture and society.  It seems that the racial climate has once again dropped into our lives.  I am numb from the experience.  I feel that the test of time shows that matters relating to race are in the spotlight of the News media.  It makes things very complex and American culture is still dealing with the same memes.  This is why I selected Judith Redman’s painting above and Seattle Women’s Orchestra’s Hiding Place that reminds me of the Civil Rights Movement in 1965.  It seems that America has not learned from the past.  It is my hope that the matter be resolved in an amicable and non hostile manner.  Not be stuck in the quicksand of racism, insuperable chauvinism and most of all seeking harmony and peace because it is the only way to live with a joy of life that we can learn to express in acoustic and visual portraits that shows we have grown over the years.  Peace Out!  JBC 8-)

 

Theories of Time and Space

Written by Natasha Trethewey

  You can get there from here, though 

there’s no going home.


Everywhere you go will be somewhere
 
you’ve never been. Try this:


head south on Mississippi 49, one-
 
by-one mile markers ticking off


another minute of your life. Follow this
 
to its natural conclusion – dead end


at the coast, the pier at Gulfport where
 
riggings of shrimp boats are loose stitches


in a sky threatening rain. Cross over
 
the man-made beach, 26 miles of sand


dumped on a mangrove swamp – buried
 
terrain of the past. Bring only


what you must carry – tome of memory
 
its random blank pages. On the dock


where you board the boat for Ship Island,
 
someone will take your picture:


the photograph – who you were -
 
will be waiting when you return
 

 musical_note_clip_art_12518

 

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

 

 

, , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Poet’s Beat on Jazz Canvas ~“I have been a stranger in a strange land” by Rita Dove Featuring Kyle Eastwood – The Way Home Art by Adrian Piper

Adrian Piper since 1965

Adrian Piper since 1965

Adrian Piper is a painter, collagist and teacher of philosophy. She is an artist who deals mostly with issues of racism and sexism as they confront the black woman in her everyday life. Many of her artworks in the past have been very successful due to a direct and personnel approach. Piper has also been recognized for including typed print on her pieces. These remind the viewer of various artists during the pop era in the 1960s, when tied text or magazine articles were often part of artistic pieces.  Courtesy of Yale

Sometimes I feel lie Rita Dove because of the situations and circumstance of my birth.    The lines have been blurred by the imposed by American society and cultural differences.  My prologue set the stage for an adventurous and mysterious life.  When I was three years old mom opened my world to the power of words.  I read everything she brought home.  When I was eleven that was my prolific learning of jazz, art and words.  Being careful with my selections and following rules I made up.  I love seeing jazz, life and the world differently and always in the present tense.  Adrian and Rita share aspects of the vision that has taken place in my heart.  Kyle Eastwood sets the tone, ambiance and a great appreciation of that fact.  To this end, I hope you like the area I have chosen today.  Peace Out!  JBC 8-)

 

“I have been a stranger in a strange land”

by Rita Dove

Life’s spell is so exquisite, everything conspires to break it. ~ Emily Dickinson

 

It wasn’t bliss. What was bliss

but the ordinary life? She’d spend hours

in patter, moving through whole days

touching, sniffing, tasting . . . exquisite

housekeeping in a charmed world.

And yet there was always

 

more of the same, all that happiness,

the aimless Being There.

So she wandered for a while, bush to arbor,

lingered to look through a pond’s restive mirror.

He was off cataloging the universe, probably,

pretending he could organize

what was clearly someone else’s chaos.

 

That’s when she found the tree,

the dark, crabbed branches

bearing up such speechless bounty,

she knew without being told

this was forbidden. It wasn’t

a question of ownership—

who could lay claim to

such maddening perfection?

 

And there was no voice in her head,

no whispered intelligence lurking

in the leaves—just an ache that grew

until she knew she’d already lost everything

except desire, the red heft of it

warming her outstretched palm.

 

Source: Poetry (October 2002).

musical_note_clip_art_12518

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

, , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Poet’s Beat On Jazz Canvas ~ The World Is a Beautiful Place by Lawrence Ferlinghetti featuring Diana Krall – Let’s Face The Music And Dance Art by Jacob Lawrence

Art Scene by Jacob Lawrence

Art Scene by Jacob Lawrence

It is a beautiful world when there is so much to experience and being present to see all of the beauty that resides in our hearts and comes out in so many forms of expression.  I just wonder sometimes if we could forget about the challenges and worries for a spell and let our eyes see, hear and feel the intensity of our life in full bloom expressing what we can imagine and to put it down on a canvas in terms of endearment and mystery. I believe that living in the moment is like absolute freedom.  Where people do not judge, classify or worry about anything because we are on a wave that reaches down to our core and touches the heavens.  Mindfulness comes in the simplest ways.  We just need to let things go, and let things come to lift our hearts and dance to the rhythm that is free to take us to the edge of life’s universe.  These artistic expressions do just that for me.  Peace Out!  JBC 8-)

The World Is a Beautiful Place

by Lawrence Ferlinghetti 

The world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don’t mind happiness
not always being
so very much fun
if you don’t mind a touch of hell
now and then
just when everything is fine
because even in heaven
they don’t sing
all the time

The world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don’t mind some people dying
all the time
or maybe only starving
some of the time
which isn’t half bad
if it isn’t you

Oh the world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don’t much mind
a few dead minds
in the higher places
or a bomb or two
now and then
in your upturned faces
or such other improprieties
as our Name Brand society
is prey to
with its men of distinction
and its men of extinction
and its priests
and other patrolmen

and its various segregations
and congressional investigations
and other constipations
that our fool flesh
is heir to

Yes the world is the best place of all
for a lot of such things as
making the fun scene
and making the love scene
and making the sad scene
and singing low songs and having inspirations
and walking around
looking at everything
and smelling flowers
and goosing statues
and even thinking
and kissing people and
making babies and wearing pants
and waving hats and
dancing
and going swimming in rivers
on picnics
in the middle of the summer
and just generally
‘living it up’
Yes
but then right in the middle of it
comes the smiling

mortician

musical_note_clip_art_12518

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artisthttp://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

 

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Jazz on Canvas ~ Four Mindfulness Improvisational Steps to Find Your Life’s Wake feat. Francesco Santucci – Last Train to Heaven ~ Artwork by Romare Bearden

Romare Bearden Jazz Collage

Romare Bearden Jazz Collage

I am in the present. I cannot know what tomorrow will bring forth. I can know only what the truth is for me today. That is what I am called upon to serve, and I serve it in all lucidity.” ~ Igor Stravinsky

It is a beautiful morning here in Seattle and I wish you great health, a very long life, success in all your endeavors and most of all awesome joy. Most folks are capable of setting goals of things they want to accomplish in their lives.  But that is not where the riff comes in; it comes in how the heck we intend on doing that!  We all make resolutions as a routine ritual for New Year’s, but, unfortunately one fourth of those resolutions are forsaken after fifteen weeks.  Could it be that setting up goals is easy enough but when the first sign of trouble or difficulty arises that is when sticking to your dream and waiting through the strife goes out the window?  This is what  separates girls from women and boys from men happens.  I say this because I have lived this cycle of being hopeful, making plans and end by giving up  at the first sign of difficulty or say …”it was only a resolution”  Living this cycle has created a tremendous  hardship in my life. I had a lot personal habits I wanted to get rid of or change, but due to lack of self-discipline and mindfulness improvisation, I was not able to do so.

Live in Music Inspired by Romare Bearden, by k Madison Moore

Live in Music Inspired by Romare Bearden, by k Madison Moore

Here are four mindfulness improvisational strategies based on Jazz Lifestyles that changed and improved  and transformed my life that worked and made me feel like I am capable of living life to the fullest and could handle any riffs or licks that came into my life.

· Romare Bearden Estate; art  Copyright Licenced by Romare Bearden Foundation

· Romare Bearden Estate; art Copyright Licenced by Romare Bearden Foundation

Step One: Getting Centered
Mindfulness improvisation creates the inner stillness that is the key ingredient for “listening” our soul’s calling to us. It is what I have found when I pray, I have to wait for the answer.  Sometimes it is the answer you don’t want to get.  Sometimes it seems irrelevant but it is a necessary step for us.  That is what I learned from my father, he was composing a song that he could construct from listening intently and connected with the sound and story emanating from within.

Facing the challenge to Getting Centered
Suffering a loss of job or someone can create a sense of sadness and confusion making centering virtually impossible. Taking small steps at a time can make all the difference.  You will be acknowledging your pain and loss and not being “hard” on ourselves will provide a nurturing state rather than a guilty state.  Mindfulness improve is the surface from which our worst emotional pain rises, crests, breaks and withdraws like a wave of the surf. Mindfulness improv allows you to stay mentally and physically still while  we acoustically and visually observe the process giving us the experience, knowledge and courage to face whatever our lives may bring.

How to get into a mindfulness improvisational state
Getting into mindfulness state is simply sit or lie down and focusing on your breaths.  Sometimes it helps to intentionally slow the intake and pause for a few seconds then exhale.   Let’s say you are upset or angry about something, you would breathe in all of what is bothering you, hold it for a few moments, then slowly exhale slowly releasing your issues.  You would do this until you feel relaxed and at peace.

 

Romare Bearden art in harlem renaissance

Romare Bearden art in harlem renaissance

Step Two: Living Your Truth
This step is about getting a better understanding of ourselves and is not some metaphysical state that springs forth with some mythical epiphany.  It is getting a better understanding of yourself by acknowledging what is happening to you, what is happening within you and through improvisation you resolve those issues based on what your truth is with respect to that specific circumstance.  My truth on the same situation might be totally different.  Also, when you share your circumstance with others, you will find how they would handle it and take from that your truth.  When we own our truth positive changes begins to transform you. The truth really does set us free.

Obstacles to Knowing the Truth
You may want to hide from the truth because once it’s out in the open, it will cause your life to change or you fear you will not be liked. That’s always scary however spoken truths  that emanates from the heart are always cause change that is positive in the long run, despite the discomfort you experienced at first. It is the best way to face and overcome your fears.

How to recognize your Truth
After doing a mindfulness meditation and have dealt with a person or situation that you want to handle through improv, there are questions you can answer so you can improvise a plan of action.  Ask yourself… What is really going on in my life right now?  What is my truth about how I honestly feel about the situation?  What is the compassionate answer to this situation right now?

 

The Blues by Romare Bearden

The Blues by Romare Bearden

Step Three: Feeling in order to Improvise Your Soul’s Desires
Most folks go through life believing they will find happiness and success through other people.  Believing that if I get married all of my troubles will disappear.  Or if I get a good job and make a lot of money and become rich I will be happy.  But in all honesty you are conditionally living your life.  That one circumstance will make your life so much better.  If we use mindfulness improvisation to identify what we are facing and finding ways that all parties will benefit is living in the moment.  Improvisation means living in the moment; using lies or manipulating others is,
Obstacles to Improvising
A lot of folks take what other people describe as desires and not identifying our own is the best way to go about life.  We abandon our ability to separate ourselves from our tribes, i.e., families, peers and most of all our culture. The soul reveals what we want and need, while the mind allows us to think we know what we want and need.

How to use Mindfulness Improv to Know Your Soul’s Desires
That is where visioning and seeing what comes to mind when you set up a sheet of paper that has “Things I want.” You free write whatever  comes to your mind.  On the second sheet of paper you would write “Things I yearn for.”   Once again you will free write things that are completely different from your want page.  You will discover when reviewing both Want and Desire pages that does not automatically lead to freedom, intimacy and self-acceptance. It is okay, if immediately you don’t know how the universe intends to fulfill your soul’s desires.  The secret is to let go of outcomes and confusion of what you truly need from what you want will manifest the second you let go and allow the process to happen.  I can honestly say that has always been a truth for me.  Also, I don’t always get what I want, but I do always get what I need.

Romare Bearden

Romare Bearden

Step Four: Trust that your life is unfolding gracefully
Why Trust brings Grace into our lives

Completely letting go of desires and outcome you achieve a sense of non-attachment.  This frees you from depending and relying on Outcomes.  The art of letting go is a naturally occuring spiritual result of trust.  Your relationship and trust in God will fulfill its own nature by answering your soul’s requests, once you have identified and acknowledged them. To sit patiently with the anticipation that has not yet been fulfilled, and to trust that, that fulfillment will come true, is indeed the most powerful “spiritual gift” that human beings are capable of.
How to Trust through Applied Love
You begin by opening your heart to Hope!   Your trust in the universe and the process to bring into light your soul’s desires is what is necessary to have your dreams fulfilled.

You can start by making a wish or request then listen intently to a song you love.  Take time to ensure that your feeling is really coming from your soul. Then, intentionally choose to trust that your wish will be fulfilled. Sit back close your eyes and watch and feel how your feelings and desires have shifted and your reward is a great and peaceful feeling.  Sometimes letting go allows us to get what we need.  Peace Out!  JBC 8-)

musical_note_clip_art_12518

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

 

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Poet’s Beat on Jazz Canvas ~ Take This River by Henry Dumas featuring Seattle Women’s Jazz Orchestra – “Pura Emoción”

Courtesy of  Corey Barksdale Abstract Arts

Courtesy of Corey Barksdale Abstract Arts

Good Morning!  I came across this poem by Henry Dumas.  It speaks to a special place in my heart considering my journey and enjoying visual and acoustic portraits of the challenges we all face in life.  Welcome to my world!  Peace Out!  JBC 8-)

 

 

TAKE THIS RIVER

by  Henry Dumas



We move up a spine of earth
That bridges the river and the canal.
And where a dying white log, finger-like,
Floating off the bank, claws at the slope,
We stumble, and we laugh.
We slow beneath the moon’s eye;
Near the shine of the river’s blood face,
The canal’s veil of underbrush sweats frost,
And this ancient watery scar retains
The motionless tears of men with troubled spirits.
For like the whole earth,
This land of mine is soaked….

Shadows together,
We fall on the grass without a word.
We had run this far from the town.
We had taken the bony course, rocky and narrow,
He leading, I following.
Our breath streams into October
As the wind sucks our sweat and a leaf…

“We have come a long long way, mahn.”
He points over the river
Where it bends west, then east,
And leaves our sight.

“I guess we have,” I pant. “I can hear
My angry muscles talking to my bones.”
And we laugh.

The hood of night is coming.
Up the river, down the river
The sky and night kiss between the wind.

“You know,” Ben says, “this is where
I brought Evelyn….
Look. We sat on that log
And watched a river egret
Till it flew away with the evening.

“But mahn, she is a funny girl, Aiee!
But she looks like me Jamaica woman….
But she asks me all the questions, mahn.
I’m going to miss her mahn, Aiee!

“But I will . . . Ewie. Ewie I love you,
But I do Ewie . . . Ewie . . . ,” he says
And blows a kiss into the wind.
Broken shadows upon the canal
Form and blur, as leaves shudder again…again

“Tell me this, Ben,” I say.
“Do you love American girls?
You know, do most Jamaicans
Understand this country?”

We almost laugh. Our sweat is gone.
He whispers “Aiee” on a long low breath

And we turn full circle to the river,
Our backs to the blind canal.

“But I’m not most Jamaicans….
I’m only Ben, and tomorrow I’ll be gone,
And … Ewie, I love you….
Aiee! My woman, how can I love you?”

Blurred images upon the river
Flow together and we are there….

“What did she ask you?” I say.
“Everything and nothing, maybe.
But I couldn’t tell her all.”
We almost laugh. “‘Cause I
Don’t know it all, mahn.

“Look, see over there….
We walked down from there
Where the park ends
And the canal begins

Where that red shale rock
Down the slope there . . . see?
Sits itself up like a figure,
We first touch our hands . . .
And up floats this log,
Not in the river
But in the canal there
And it’s slimy and old
And I kick it back . . .
And mahn, she does too.
Then she asks me:
Bennie, if I cry
When you leave would you
Remember me more?’
Aiee! She’s a natural goddess!
And she asks me:
‘Bennie, when you think of Jamaica
Can you picture me there?’
And while she’s saying this,
She’s reaching for the river
Current like she’s feeling its pulse.
She asks me:
‘Bennie, America means something to you?
Maybe our meeting, our love? has
Something to do with America,
Like the river? Do you know Bennie?’
Aiee, Aiee, mahn I tell you
She might make me marry . . .
Aiee! Ewie, Jamaica . . . moon!
And how can I say anything?
I tell her:
Africa, somewhere is Africa.
Do you understand,’ I say to her,
And she look at me with the moon,
And I hear the wind and the leaves
And we do not laugh . . .
We are so close now no wind between us . . .
I say to her:
‘Ewie, I do not know America
Except maybe in my tears….
Maybe when I look out from Jamaica
Sometimes, at the ocean water….
Maybe then I know this country….
But I know that we, we Ewie….
I know that this river goes and goes.
She takes me to the ocean,
The mother of water
And then I am home.’
And she tells me she knows
By the silence in her eyes.
I reach our hands again down
And bathe them in the night current
And I say: ‘Take this river, Ewie….’
Aiee, wind around us, Aiee my God!
Only the night knows how we kiss.”

He stands up.
A raincloud sailing upon a leak, whirs
In the momentary embrace of our memories….
“Let’s run,” I say, “and warm these bones.”
But he trots a bit, then stops,
Looking at his Jamaica sky.
“Let’s run the long road west
Down the river road,” I say,
“And I’ll tell you of my woman….Aiee.”
We laugh, but we stop.
And then, up the spiny ridge
We race through the trees
Like spirited fingers of frosty air.
We move toward some blurred
Mechanical light edged like an egret
And swallowed by the night.
Into this land of mine.
And the wind is cold, a prodding
Finger at our backs.
The still earth. Except for us.
And from behind that ebon cloak,
The moon observes….
And we do not laugh
And we do not cry, And where the land slopes,
We take the river….
But we do not stumble,
We do not laugh,
We do not cry,
And we do not stop….

Online Source: http://www2.mdcc.edu/north/asili/volii_3/nu00031.htm
Copyright © Loretta Dumas and Eugene Redmond, 1989/99

musical_note_clip_art_12518

 

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Poet’s Beat ~ “Transformation & Escape” by Gregory Corso feat.Gil Fuller & Monterey Jazz Festival – Things Are Here – Feat. Dizzy Gillespie

For Kandinsky-Great grandson Anton S. Kandinsky

For Kandinsky-Great grandson Anton S. Kandinsky

This is a prelude to an understanding and appreciation for poetry and jazz in terms of harmonic complexities and spontaneous or improvisation utterances from the soul of the poet in both an acoustic and literary styles.  The American social and literary movement of the 1950s and ’60s brought out the artists’ communities in San Francisco, Los Angeles, and New York.  For me, I had the best of all of these locations growing up and experimenting with sounds and words and colors.  Its modality was expressed alienation from conventional society and advocated personal expression and illumination infused with an awareness and higher state of consciousness.  The Beat poets, included Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Allen Ginsberg, Gregory Corso who sought to liberate poetry from academia creating verse that was syncopated extrapolations of American life that was sometimes sprinkled with missives, and digressions but very powerful and moving.  It was a time that was riddled with LSD and mushrooms from Kerouac that I felt was not truly an expression of genius but a drug induced state that smacked of “Alice in Wonderland” perspective leaving out the key elements of Jazz Poetry and its impact in our lives.  This poem I believe establishes that.  Peace Out! JBC 8-)

 

 Transformation & Escape

BY GREGORY CORSO

1

 

I reached heaven and it was syrupy.

It was oppressively sweet.

Croaking substances stuck to my knees.

Of all substances St. Michael was stickiest.

I grabbed him and pasted him on my head.

I found God a gigantic fly paper.

I stayed out of his way.

I walked where everything smelled of burnt chocolate.

Meanwhile St. Michael was busy with his sword

hacking away at my hair.

I found Dante standing naked in a blob of honey.

Bears were licking his thighs.

I snatched St. Michael’s sword

and quartered myself in a great circular adhesive.

My torso fell upon an elastic equilibrium.

As though shot from a sling

my torso whizzed at God fly paper.

My legs sank into some unimaginable sog.

My head, though weighed with the weight of St. Michael,

did not fall.

Fine strands of multi-colored gum

suspended it there.

My spirit stopped by my snared torso.

I pulled! I yanked! Rolled it left to right!

It bruised! It softened! It could not free!

The struggle of an Eternity!

An Eternity of pulls! of yanks!

Went back to my head,

St. Michael had sucked dry my brainpan!

Skull!

My skull!

Only skull in heaven!

Went to my legs.

St. Peter was polishing his sandals with my knees!

I pounced upon him!

Pummeled his face in sugar in honey in marmalade!

Under each arm I fled with my legs!

The police of heaven were in hot pursuit!

I hid within the sop of St. Francis.

Gasping in the confectionery of his gentility

I wept, caressing my intimidated legs.

 

2

 

They caught me.

They took my legs away.

They sentenced me in the firmament of an ass.

The prison of an Eternity!

An Eternity of labor! of hee-haws!

Burdened with the soiled raiment of saints

I schemed escape.

Lugging ampullae its daily fill

I schemed escape.

I schemed climbing impossible mountains.

I schemed under the Virgin’s whip.

I schemed to the sound of celestial joy.

I schemed to the sound of earth,

the wail of infants,

the groans of men,

the thud of coffins.

I schemed escape.

God was busy switching the spheres from hand to hand.

The time had come.

I cracked my jaws.

Broke my legs.

Sagged belly-flat on plow

on pitchfork

on scythe.

My spirit leaked from the wounds.

A whole spirit pooled.

I rose from the carcass of my torment.

I stood in the brink of heaven.

And I swear that Great Territory did quake

when I fell, free.

Gregory Corso, “Transformation & Escape” from The Happy Birthday of Death. Copyright © 1960 by New Directions Publishing Corporation. Reprinted with the permission of New Directions Publishing Corporation.

Source: Mindfield: New and Selected Poems (New Directions Publishing Corporation, 1989)

 

musical_note_clip_art_12518

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Poet’s Beat on Jazz Canvas ~ “Sleeping with the Dictionary” by Harryette Mullen featuring Betty Carter – “I Could Write A Book – Edit”

Dictionary Page Art

Dictionary Page Art

Welcome to my world, it is filled with writing, writing and oh yes more writing.  However, when I am not writing, sleeping, eating…my research is both auditory and visual albeit contemporary visual art, literary art, jazz arts, I would consider it a minimalist life in the sense that my gratitude for what God has blessed me with Life and all the natural things that come into it.  I love this writing life, you know, there will always be something to read, research or experience, what more could I ask for?  Peace Out!  JBC  8-)

 

Sleeping with the Dictionary

BY HARRYETTE MULLEN

I beg to dicker with my silver-tongued companion, whose lips are ready to read my shining gloss. A versatile partner, conversant and well-versed in the verbal art, the dictionary is not averse to the solitary habits of the curiously wide-awake reader. In the dark night’s insomnia, the book is a stimulating sedative, awakening my tired imagination to the hypnagogic trance of language. Retiring to the canopy of the bedroom, turning on the bedside light, taking the big dictionary to bed, clutching the unabridged bulk, heavy with the weight of all the meanings between these covers, smoothing the thin sheets, thick with accented syllables—all are exercises in the conscious regimen of dreamers, who toss words on their tongues while turning illuminated pages. To go through all these motions and procedures, groping in the dark for an alluring word, is the poet’s nocturnal mission. Aroused by myriad possibilities, we try out the most perverse positions in the practice of our nightly act, the penetration of the denotative body of the work. Any exit from the logic of language might be an entry in a symptomatic dictionary. The alphabetical order of this ample block of knowledge might render a dense lexicon of lucid hallucinations. Beside the bed, a pad lies open to record the meandering of migratory words. In the rapid eye movement of the poet’s night vision, this dictum can be decoded, like the secret acrostic of a lover’s name.

Harryette Mullen, “Sleeping with the Dictionary” from Sleeping with the Dictionary. Copyright © 2002 by the Regents of the University of California.  Reprinted by permission of University of California Press.

Source: Sleeping with the Dictionary (University of California Press, 2002)

musical_note_clip_art_12518

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Part One ~ The Book Proposal for My Memoir: A Song From My Father: A Creative Journey of Race and Legacy ~ featuring Gil Fuller & Monterey Jazz Festival – Things Are Here –Performed by Dizzy Gillespie

I thought it would befitting to tell you that today is my birthday.  Also, last night I had an Aha! Moment when I realized that my website Fifty Shades of Jazz is a composite on canvas of my life….  Importantly it is a composite of the various aspects of my life.  That being said, I feel that I can conceive that there are more than just one book …1- my Breast Cancer journey with my mother (“Saved By Jazz), 2.  Jazz Poetry and Contemporary Visual Arts (“Visual & Acoustic Muse of Jazz), 3.  The one closest to my heart and what I need to write first…Memoir (“A Song From My Father:  A CREATIVE JOURNEY OF RACE AND LEGACY.

The album above would be the companion because it would provide the acoustic substrate for living in the 60’s during the Civil Rights Movement and Countercultural revolution that changed the face and life of America.  I would like to point out that my age is nothing but a number because it my no means does any justice to my challenges and finding meaning in my life or mindfulness improvisations that I learned from my father in the life lessons in jazz.  That jazz creates the same creative inspiration and my instrument and I have to play the utterances that manifest when listening to the sounds that are translated into words.  I would love to know what you are thinking when reading this post because it is the best way to know if I am making the sounds come true in my words.  Besides I love hearing from you…  Thank you for sharing my birthday with me…Peace Out!  JBC

Doodles and sketches for memoir

Doodles and sketches for memoir

Part One

Overview

 

If you were to put  bestsellers  filled  with ingredients  like jazz, culture, life lessons and being a musician, personal transformation and sustainability in MOVING TO HIGHER GROUND:  HOW JAZZ CAN CHANGE YOUR LIFE; civil rights riots, insuperable chauvinism, the search for racial identification in America in THE COLOR OF WATER:  A BLACK MAN’S TRIBUTE TO HIS WHITE MOTHER; or have a consciousness raising of living the life you were meant to live as portrayed in DREAMS OF MY FATHER:  A STORY OF RACE AND INHERITANCE add a dash of cross generational creative spiritual journeys amidst the Civil Rights and Counterculture movements of the 50’s and 60’s  in her father’s life it was a passion and dedication to notes and in her life she had fallen in love with the sound of words and jazz, you would be reading A SONG FROM MY FATHER:  A CREATIVE JOURNEY OF RACE AND LEGACY.

In this lyrical, sentimental, and compelling memoir, the daughter of a Creole father and a white American mother searches for her voice and a sustainable creative meaning to her life as a Multiracial American.  It begins in New York in the 1950s on the Upper Westside where her father’s music career as an accomplished  Jazz composer/arranger and band leader take off and who wrote a song for her when she was three years old that inspires a creative spiritual journey in Los Angeles California in the 1960 decade..

The memoir will be divided into five parts of a song:

Overview

If you were to put  bestsellers  filled  with ingredients  like jazz, culture, life lessons and being a musician, personal transformation and sustainability in MOVING TO HIGHER GROUND:  HOW JAZZ CAN CHANGE YOUR LIFE; civil rights riots, insuperable chauvinism, the search for racial identification in America in THE COLOR OF WATER:  A BLACK MAN’S TRIBUTE TO HIS WHITE MOTHER; or have a consciousness raising of living the life you were meant to live as portrayed in DREAMS OF MY FATHER:  A STORY OF RACE AND INHERITANCE add a dash of cross generational creative spiritual journeys amidst the Civil Rights and Counterculture movements of the 50’s and 60’s  in her father’s life it was a passion and dedication to notes and in her life she had fallen in love with the sound of words and jazz, you would be reading A SONG FROM MY FATHER:  A CREATIVE JOURNEY OF RACE AND LEGACY.

In this lyrical, sentimental, and compelling memoir, the daughter of a Creole father and a white American mother searches for her voice and a sustainable creative meaning to her life as a Multiracial American.  It begins in New York in the 1950s on the Upper Westside where her father’s music career as an accomplished  Jazz composer/arranger and band leader take off and who wrote a song for her when she was three years old that inspires a creative spiritual journey in Los Angeles California in the 1960 decade..

The memoir will be divided into five parts of a song:

~ Part One – Prelude will begin with a grace note of appreciation to my father.  Jazz as an Imitation of American Life will be a narrative of the author’s life  living immersed in 60’s Watts Riots and how the jazz world became her refuge and salvation.  Feature an article entitled THE UNRECOGNIZED TITAN by Leonard Feather, DOWNBEAT Magazine Feburary, 1966

~  Part Two  –  Measures – will lyrically capture how the author’s exposure to jazz rehearsals and interactions with musicians and writers provided a catalyst to living a creative life as a writer no matter what.  It is what one has to do to live with music or will die with noise and chaos.

~ Part Three – Chorus – will chronicle what the author discovered how mindfulness meditation and improvisation are the elements in jazz that musicians  used to make it through the strife and still expressing oneself as a way of coping and dealing with racism and chauvinism and hostility to be present and lean into her life actualizing a sense of serenity, a peace that thrives on understanding and acceptance. with grace

~ Part Four ~ Bridges – • Homecoming  the author was living in San Francisco, when she found out in November of 1989 that both of her parents were sick and I decided to come home to New York.  On her father’s deathbed the author had a chance to talk intimately with her father and tell him how miserable she felt because she was not living the life she felt was meant for her and wanted him to show her how and if he ever thought she had talent to write.  We came to an understanding before he died and I forgave him liberating us to transition opening his heart to die.

~ Part Five CODA – Finding My Way  – the author discovers the Gibson guitar her father kept for her in the basement and when opening it she realized that he kept all of my poems and journals nestled between the guitar and sheet music and a note he wrote ~ To My Daughter ~ I always knew you could write your heart out and I wrote a song for you to help you to discover that you cannot live without exploring and developing her gifts.

 

The memoir has approximately 75,000 words to date. The manuscript will be completed twelve months after receipt of the advance to help defray editing and publishing costs. It will be written under the pseudonym of Jannat Marie.

musical_note_clip_art_12518

 

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

2 Comments

Jazz Mindfulness Improv Conversations ~ Improv on the Brain ~ The Unspoken Language study of Charles Limb by Nick Zagorski

“Unlike during spoken conversation, when processing music, the brain shuts down areas linked to meaning and activates areas linked to syntax and structure. This allows musicians to focus on playing and responding to music within an intuitive framework. “We think that to be creative, you have to have this weird dissociation in your frontal lobe,” says Limb. “One area turns on, and a big area shuts off, so that you’re not inhibited, so that you’re willing to make mistakes, so that you’re not constantly shutting down all these new generative impulses.” Discoveries such as these in musical neuroscience lead to a better understanding of how the brain innovates and can help scientists develop new treatments for neural disorders.”  Music, the Unspoken Language by Trinica Sampson 2/20/2014 for The Utne Reader Blog:  Cure Ignorance

 

My neuroscience training and research on Mindfulness Improv in jazz and as a way of living in the present and facing the challenges that come into our lives i.e., cancer, losing your job, tapping into your inner vision of who you are, I discovered these studies and wanted to share them th you as I write my breast cancer survival story.  These studies are hidden treasures giving us a glimpse of our inner life.  This is an article that explains neuroscience and improvisation by Nick Zagorski. Tout de suite…Peace Out!  JBC 8-)

Jazz Improv The Unspoken Language

Jazz Improv The Unspoken Language

Through his studies of the brain “on jazz,” music-loving otolaryngologist Charles Limb aims to unravel the mind’s secrets of creativity.

By Nick Zagorski | Photo by Keith Weller

Watch a video about Charles Limb and his studies.
David Kane had never played keyboard quite like this. Sure, the 53-year-old musician and composer had experienced his share of cramped recording studios and poorly tuned pianos during his 37-year career. But those inconveniences paled in comparison to this session. Kane lay prostrate in an MRI tube, with a miniature electronic keyboard perched on his knees. He relied on a set of mirrors to visualize his fingers on the keys.

“Physically, it wasn’t too uncomfortable,” he jokes today, “but for my creative space, it was horrible.” Kane, though, persevered and played some jazz, in the name of music—and science. For right outside the MRI machine, scientist Charles Limb stared intently at a computer monitor, observing Kane’s brain activity as he played a combination of pre-written and improvised melodies. Limb’s goal? No less than trying to unravel the secrets of human creativity.

Images of a brain scan by Charles Limb

Images of a brain scan by Charles Limb

Three-dimensional surface projection of activations and deactivations associated with improvisation during jazz. Illustration courtesy Charles Limb.

“How do the legends, musicians like John Coltrane, get up on stage and improvise music for an hour or sometimes more?” asks Limb, a professor of otolaryngology at Johns Hopkins School of Medicine and an adjunct faculty member at Peabody. “How do they produce masterpiece after masterpiece without any preparation?”

Answering those questions appears daunting, as creativity may be the most enigmatic component of the human brain. But with the aid of sensitive imaging equipment, Limb and his collaborator Allen R. Braun at the National Institutes of Health have started gathering some tantalizing clues about the mind’s creative process.

“During improv, the brain deactivates the area involved in self-censoring, while cranking up the region linked with self-expression,” Limb explains. “Essentially, a musician shuts down his inhibitions and lets his inner voice shine through.”

It doesn’t take long to understand the roots of Limb’s ambitious endeavor. If the latest issues of Bass Player, Downbeat, and Electronic Musician spread across his desk don’t give it away, a short conversation about anything music-related certainly will. He is not shy to admit: “I’m a self-professed music addict.”

“This work provides us with another way we can relate musical creativity and improv to students. Maybe someday we can even apply these and future studies to create an environment that is more conducive to improvisation.” — Michael Formanek, Jazz Studies faculty

A talented saxophonist—he directed a jazz band while an undergraduate at Harvard and played at local restaurants during medical school at Yale—Limb is also a composer, studio engineer, music historian, and collector (with an instrument library that includes a Rhodes piano and a Chapman stick). In his rare free time away from his cochlear implant surgeries and family life, Limb shares his passion for music by writing magazine articles and speaking at symposia, on topics ranging from the potential damage of loud music on hearing, to Thomas Edison’s ability to invent a phonograph in spite of his deafness.

Music’s seductive power, according to Limb, is that it embodies the same principles as life itself. “Life and music are both equal parts rational and emotional,” he says. “Fundamentally, music is purely mathematical. Guitar strings, drum heads, even the human voice box, they all generate sound at defined, periodic frequencies; but when you hear all those sounds intertwined in music, it is truly an emotional experience.”

In the halls of Peabody however, Limb focuses on the rational side of music. For the past three years he has been an adjunct professor in the Computer Music Department, a discipline that explores the intersection of music, humans, and machine. Limb offers seminar courses on how researchers use computers to understand the role of the brain in music perception and production.

Limb also uses his Peabody connections to tap music students to join his lab at the Medical Institutions, a lab that also includes Hopkins students from otolaryngology and neuroscience. The mix offers a diverse range of expertise for looking into the neural basis of music.

Limb’s work in the area began in 2003, after he took a fellowship with Braun at the National Institute on Deafness and other Communication Disorders (NIDCD). Braun’s lab was using functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) to track how the brain processes language and how disorders like stroke disrupt speech. “That led me to think that we could use this same approach to study people while they were doing musical things,” Limb says.

It turned out that Braun was also a connoisseur of music, especially jazz, and had in fact been mulling a similar approach, so he quickly approved the idea. Their first project tested if musical training might affect the brain’s architecture, a hypothesis that proved to hold true. When both musicians and non-musicians were presented with a series of rhythmic patterns, only the musicians activated a portion of the left side of the brain associated with language comprehension. “Basically, musicians, do indeed ‘hear’ music differently than other individuals,” says Limb. “It’s almost like a second language.”

The pair of jazz-loving scientists then tackled a more ambitious plan. From its long, impromptu riffs to the tradition of “trading fours,” jazz has long been synonymous with improvisation. While other studies had focused on what happens in the brain when a person listens to music, few had looked at brain activity when music is being spontaneously composed. So, they figured, why not try to analyze jazz improvisation?

Admittedly, the logistics were daunting. Limb and Braun needed to figure out how to get a musician to play an instrument containing no magnetic parts while lying inside a cramped MRI tube. They overcame the technical issue with the help of a California engineer who custom designed a miniature, non-magnetic keyboard and a system of mirrors so the player could see the modified keyboard resting on his knees. Through his connections at Peabody and the Baltimore-D.C. jazz community, Limb then found six trained jazz pianists, including Kane, who were willing to serve as volunteers.

The musicians were asked to perform four different exercises while lying in the fMRI machine. First they played the C-major scale. Then they were asked to improvise on the scale. Next, they played an original blues melody (composed by Limb) that they had memorized, with a pre-recorded jazz quartet playing in the background. Finally, they were set free to improvise their own tune with the same recorded quartet.

When it came time to analyze the brain scans, Limb and Braun found strikingly similar patterns during improvisation—whether with the simple C scale or longer riffs with the jazz quartet. The brain turned off areas linked to self-monitoring and inhibition and turned on those that let self-expression flow. In addition, the brain regions involved with all the senses lit up during improvisation, indicating a heightened state of awareness—the performers literally taste, smell, and feel the air around them. Most fascinating about this aspect of the scans was their uncanny similarity to patterns seen during deep REM sleep, creating a tantalizing notion of a connection between improvisation and dreaming.

Of course, these results naturally resonated with trained musicians like Kane and Michael Formanek, professor of Jazz Studies at Peabody and an improviser. “When I start improvising, I definitely feel like I’m ‘going into a zone,’ so to speak, getting to a place where I’m not actively thinking about notes and rhythm but rather just taking in what’s around me,” says Formanek.

“It’s a strange little balance you have to achieve,” adds Kane about this altered state of improv consciousness. “You can’t have full judgment, because if you start thinking your improvisation stinks or is great, you’ll hinder your own creativity.”

Energized by his findings, Limb is eager to use music in future studies as a means for better understanding creativity. “I think our study highlights that you can address your most ambitious questions systematically,” he says. “And in the future there’s no reason we can’t ask other pertinent neurological questions like where musical talent really comes from, and how continued playing improves our performance.”

Limb is not shy about discussing the potential for such studies in his seminar courses. His goal: to excite and invigorate the next generation (of musicians and non-musicians alike) to pursue such questions.

Formanek, who teaches jazz bass and jazz history, agrees that the science behind music could be a useful educational tool for music initiates—like many of the students who come for classes at the Peabody Preparatory. “This work provides us with another way we can relate musical creativity and improv to students and kick-start them into thinking about music, and what kinds of events may trigger certain responses,” he says. “Maybe someday we can even apply these and future studies to create an environment that is more conducive to improvisation.”

But will attempts to quantify musical talent demystify the creative process? Limb doesn’t think so. People in the jazz world have already gravitated to his work and have given quite positive feedback. “Just because you understand how something works does not strip it of its beauty,” he says. “In some ways, knowing how creativity forms, the combination of chemical reactions, makes it even more remarkable.”

Functional imaging of music could have practical applications as well. As a cochlear surgeon, Limb envisions designing a music-based hearing test sensitive enough to detect hearing loss at its earliest stages, or to detect minor auditory defects that standard tests may miss. Such a diagnostic may be especially useful to assess deafness in young children or people recovering from strokes—those who have trouble communicating and thus cannot respond to standard tests.

A music-based diagnostic may even entice musicians, many of whom are surprisingly reluctant to have their hearing assessed, Limb has found. “Musicians often work in environments that are potentially quite damaging to their ears,” and incidences of hearing loss and tinnitus (buzzing in the ears in the absence of sounds) are on the rise. “Yet so few of the musicians I know have formally checked their hearing,” he says. “And one big reason is they don’t want doctors putting any tubes in their ears for fear of damage.”

Ultimately, says Limb, the imaging studies that he and Braun are pursuing can be extended to art forms that emphasize other senses, such as writing or painting, to compare brain activities and see if spontaneity can somehow be generalized. Gaining such knowledge will have broad implications, he notes, since improvisation isn’t limited to the arts; it’s an integral part of daily life.

“People improvise every day in their conversations or actions,” points out filmmaker and Peabody alumnus Michael Lawrence (BM ’70, Guitar), who plans to feature Limb in his upcoming documentary on Johann Sebastian Bach (another renowned musical improviser). “So with this landmark study, Charles has begun to define what it means to be human.”

Reprint by Science writer Nick Zagorski writes from Bethesda, Md. FALL 2008

 

rhythm primer rest

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

 

 

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

2 Comments

Jazz on Canvas Presenting ~ The Invitation by Oriah featuring Lana Ross – American Native Blues Shaman Guitar Song (feat. Andrei Krylov)

Modern Art Paintings 21st.-.-Merello.-_Pietro_di_Milano

Modern Art Paintings 21st.-.-Merello.-_Pietro_di_Milano

The Invitation by Oriah I credit for giving me the vision of using my love of words, jazz and mindfulness improvisation to tell my story.  I am not famous or rich, do I have to be?  I don’t think so, because what I do have much love for  is literary arts,  contemporary visual arts and yes jazz.  Now don’t get me wrong, but I feel that I have been on this planet for over half a century and the most endearing and heart felt awakenings were centered around being paralyzed and was renting a wheelchair through the Christmas holidays in 1990 and the big “C” (breast cancer) in 2000 that was by no means a wake up call, it was time to give my life all I had to help my mother and commrads in arms to stand tall and kick some major but on my way to realizing that improv is a powerful weapon and I am not my cancer.  I found that friends that I had known for awhile no longer knew what to say to me or ‘spiritually’ challenged individuals that alluded to my getting the illness because I questioned my faith and did something to offend the Higher Power.  Growing up in L.A. as a mixed raced little girl left me suspended between two worlds and when the Civil Rights movement dropped into an already smoldering situation there was fire, glass shard showers amid a smoked filled environment that was destined to infiltrate our black and white television sets.  The Jazz festival in Monterey 1965 was my “Invitation” to experience how men and women jazz musicians, stylist, arrangers, composers reflected their experiences and emotions that told a story of finding serenity, love and strength when faced with racism, chauvinism, and unfair wages still told their story that everyone who listened could understand.  I have learned to accept that racism will always be, but, it has become my choice to not let it stain my life.  To that end, I give you this poem that conjured up an awakened spirit that all of us have and have discovered through WordPress, amazing bloggers who really are what their hearts have been blessed to be.  Mixed race in my world includes ‘Native American‘ which my great grandpa a Calligrapher of Maps who showed me a different type of light.  Take Care, Peace Out!  ” tout de suite” because now is something we all have together….JBC 8-)

The   Invitation

by Oriah

It doesn’t interest me

what you do for a living.

I want to know

what you ache for

and if you dare to dream

of meeting your heart’s longing.

 

It doesn’t interest me

how old you are.

I want to know

if you will risk

looking like a fool

for love

for your dream

for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me

what planets are

squaring your moon…

I want to know

if you have touched

the centre of your own sorrow

if you have been opened

by life’s betrayals

or have become shrivelled and closed

from fear of further pain.

I want to know

if you can sit with pain

mine or your own

without moving to hide it

or fade it

or fix it.

I want to know

if you can be with joy

mine or your own

if you can dance with wildness

and let the ecstasy fill you

to the tips of your fingers and toes

without cautioning us

to be careful

to be realistic

to remember the limitations

of being human.

It doesn’t interest me

if the story you are telling me

is true.

I want to know if you can

disappoint another

to be true to yourself.

If you can bear

the accusation of betrayal

and not betray your own soul.

If you can be faithless

and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty

even when it is not pretty

every day.

And if you can source your own life

from its presence.

I want to know

if you can live with failure

yours and mine

and still stand at the edge of the lake

and shout to the silver of the full moon,

“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me

to know where you live

or how much money you have.

I want to know if you can get up

after the night of grief and despair

weary and bruised to the bone

and do what needs to be done

to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me

who you know

or how you came to be here.

I want to know if you will stand

in the centre of the fire

with me

and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me

where or what or with whom

you have studied.

I want to know

what sustains you

from the inside

when all else falls away.

I want to know

if you can be alone

with yourself

and if you truly like

the company you keep

in the empty moments.

 

 

1999 All rights reserved By Oriah © Mountain Dreaming, from the book The Invitation published by HarperONE, San Francisco,

 

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

 

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Between the Notes: A Breast Cancer Survival Guide ~ Discovering the Transformative and Healing Powers of Words, Mindfulness Improv and Jazz – Overview

This is an excerpt from the Memoir….

 Music is the space between the notes…”  ~ Claude Debussy

My mother and I were more than best friends forever (BFF’s), we were sister warriors in the battle against breast cancer.  This journey began over sixteen years ago on October of 1997 after dad died.  I was truly blessed because mom taught me the significance and grace of unconditionally loving another person, and she has always encouraged me and supported me in every aspect of my life.  We stemmed the tides of loss, grief and pain throughout the whole process.  We were each other’s caregivers.  Dad introduced and taught me using valuable jazz lessons how to handle the rigors of the harsh realities of choosing to live a creative life.  Looking back I realized it was his way of preparing me to stand my ground and confront my ego, negative thoughts, fear, failure and the challenges that we all face by accepting that like change it is necessary for us to connect with our God given spiritual gifts.  Leaning in and coming face to face with a challenge it signals that you have to awaken to those gifts using them to overcome it.  You will accept that you will be transformed by mindfulness improvisation in order to connect with the higher voice that will inspire and change you.  When listening becomes the ability to discern the ego and the chatter of negativity from what resides in your heart.  It wasn’t an option.  It was like breathing.   I have to write because it gives me the sense of who I am.  It was the response to the Call(ing) to the life that has been given you.  That is why when I combined jazz music that was a blessing my dad gave me when he took me to rehearsals, festivals, recording sessions;  and his introduction to the players, Dizzy GillespieJames MoodyCount BasieIgor Stravinsky, and Ralph Gleason that  individually and collectively inspired me to nurture and dedicate myself to a creative life.  I thought I was secretly writing in my journals — poetry and lyrical prose/essay that I created when dad was composing songs on the piano downstairs in 1963.  I was surprised to found that he knew all about my writing secretly in my room when I found in the Gibson guitar case he gave me when I was 9.  I opened it up and found all of my writing nestled between sheet music.  It was my Aha! Moment when I realized what a blessing my father gave me of living wonderfully enchanted life of musical thinking where my words can separate sound from music. Writing was my Response to my life’s calling.

The minute the word cancer entered our house, everything changed. I felt desperate and frightened by the prospect of cancer and another death.  But I refused to take this lying down.  I dove directly into the cresting wave of the unknown and sprung into action—there were logistics to deal with and mom needed support.  I moved back in with her after dad’s death and we struggled with missing dad, but also dealing with taxes and issues related to her therapy.

Chemotherapy is brutal. Radiation was something way beyond that.. The goal of these therapies is to kill everything in your body before it kills you. I wanted to take the burden off her. When dad had his massive stroke he was on a respirator and in a coma we asked my brother to make a tape of dad’s music to play continuously in his ears.  After ten days, he was out of the coma and was breathing on his own.  You can’t tell me that God didn’t have a role in that.

I decided to bring a tape of his music into the chemo suite when she had chemo and radiation therapy and it majestically made the most terrifying moments evaporate from both of us. It not only served as a connection between the two of us, it was a connection for the other patients and the hospital staff as well.   We laughed and interacted with one patient in particular, Pat.  Pat had colon cancer.  It had metastasized and spread to her bone.  I met her when I had my mastectomy and she lay in the bed next to me after surgery.  Mom came in and waited for me to come around.  I opened my eyes and there they were.  What a beautiful sight.  Apparently mom and Pat formed a bond.  When mom had the pick put in, Pat hovered over me like a lioness guarding her cubs.  After the pick was in mom, she developed a serious infection they could not control.  After a week, mom was moved to a nursing home in Paramus New Jersey for 90 days.  I couldn’t drive so Pat would come and sit on my bed holding the phone while we talked to mom and talked until the nurse came in and told us she would have the phone removed. Mom had two daughters now.  That spring all we did was laugh and act silly….More to come… See you between the notes, Peace Out! JBC-8)

rhythm primer rest

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

 

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Jazz on Canvas Riffshots on A Short Course on Jazz Improvisation feat. Bill Evans – “Blue Monk” ~ Liner Notes of Bill Evans on Language & Improvisation

 

Courtesy of Wikipedia Japanese Art of 60s

Courtesy of Wikipedia Japanese Art of 60s

 

Beginning in the Jazz Age, Japan’s fascination with jazz seems limitless. Japanese musicians often interpret western sounds and musical styles with amazing results, it captures the flow that is moving and shaping  original sounds in ways that only occur through Japanese aesthetic. Art Critics and Scholars puzzle over cultural interpretation and translation, Japanese jazz musicians love to create new music that  highlights the greatest elements of the American cultural tradition moving beyond o unfamiliar creative spaces.

 

 

Bill Evan’s brought this out in the liner notes on the “Patch of Blue” Album cover.  It speaks to Debussy’s quote “Music is the space between the notes”.  Evan’s uses “Silence“ as a metaphor for “Space”.  He beautifully illustrates this through Japanese Visual Artist’s vision and style.  Enjoy Jazz through Sight, Sounds and Vision…Peace Out!  JBC 8-

 

 

On Silence

 

“There is a Japanese visual art in which the artist is forced to be spontaneous. He must paint on a thin stretched parchment with a special brush and black water paint in such a way that an unnatural or interrupted stroke will destroy the line or break through the parchment. Erasures or changes are impossible. These artists must practice a particular discipline, that of allowing the idea to express itself in communication with their hands in such a direct way that deliberation cannot interfere.

“The resulting pictures lack the complex composition and textures of ordinary painting, but it is said that those who see well find something captured that escapes explanation.

“This conviction that direct deed is the most meaningful reflection, I believe, has prompted the evolution of the extremely severe and unique disciplines of the jazz or improvising musician.”

(In such paintings the influence of Zen Buddhism, with its emphasis on the Void, on clearing. is visible in the predominance of empty space. Cf. Evans’s piano, Davis‘s trumpet, Creeley’s emulation of Davis.)

 

 

Japanese translation for meaning

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Jazz RiffShots ~ Timbre ~ Coloring Outside of Life feat. New Age Jazz “Chakra Balancing Jazz Experience”

Ruth-Batke-Abstract-art-Emotions-Love-Contemporary-Art-Contemporary-Art

Ruth-Batke-Abstract-art-Emotions-Love-Contemporary-Art-Contemporary-Art

For the moment, the jazz is playing; there is no melody, just notes, a myriad tiny tremors. The notes know no rest, an inflexible order gives birth to them then destroys them, without ever leaving them the chance to recuperate and exist for themselves…. I would like to hold them back, but I know that, if I succeeded in stopping one, there would only remain in my hand a corrupt and languishing sound. I must accept their death; I must even want that death: I know of few more bitter or intense impressions.  ~ Jean-Paul Sartre

It is 7:00 pm on this very warm summer evening in August 11th, 1965 mom, dad, my brother and myself are watching the news when suddenly an interrupting announcement filled the air… This just in a California Highway Patrolman Lee W. Minikus, a Caucasian, was riding his motorcycle along 122nd street, just south of the Los Angeles City boundary, when a passing Negro motorist told him he had just seen a car that was being driven recklessly. Minikus gave chase and pulled the car over at 116th and Avalon, in a predominantly Negro neighborhood, near but not in Watts. It was 7: 00 p.m.

The driver was Marquette Frye, a 21-year-old Negro, and his older brother, Ronald, 22, was a passenger. Minikus asked Marquette to get out and take the standard Highway Patrol sobriety test. Frye failed the test, and at 7:05 p.m., Minikus told him he was under arrest. He radioed for his motorcycle partner, for a car to take Marquette to jail, and a tow truck to take the car away.

They were two blocks from the Frye home, in an area of two-story apartment buildings and numerous small family residences. Because it was a very warm evening, many of the residents were outside.  Ronald Frye, having been told he could not take the car when Marquette was taken to jail, went to get their mother so that she could claim the car.

 

Abstract Art Landscape Tree Painting

Abstract Art Landscape Tree Painting

 

Dad turned the volume down …this is not going to end well.  I am sure that a riot is going to break out and will escalate until its devastated effects will be realized.  Your mom and I have shielded you from the ugliest side of racism.  The screen had an alert began flashing and the anchorman reading a bulletin… The Emergency Control Center at Police Headquarters – a specially outfitted command post – was opened at 7:30 p.m. on Thursday. That day, one hundred and ninety deputy sheriffs were asked for and assigned. Between 6:45 and 7:15 p.m., crowds at the scene of the trouble of the night before had grown to more than 1,000. Firemen who came into the area to fight fires in three overturned automobiles were shot at and bombarded with rocks. The first fire in a commercial establishment was set only one block from the location of the Frye arrests, and police had to hold back rioters as firemen fought the blaze. Shortly before midnight, rock-throwing and looting crowds for the first time ranged outside the perimeter. Five hundred police officers, deputy sheriffs and highway patrolmen used various techniques, including fender-to-fender sweeps by police cars, in seeking to disperse the mob. By 4:00 a.m. Friday, the police department felt that the situation was at least for the moment under control. At 5:09 a.m., officers were withdrawn from emergency perimeter control.

We watched in horror the feeling of hatred, racism and violence is now infecting our family room.  I am so sleepy that I stood up and heading upstairs mommy and daddy I am going to bed.  Promise me that we are going to be safe.  My father muted the sound holding his arms open, I ran to him and mom for a hug.  He whispered, do you remember when we were driving cross country last summer to see Grandma and Grandpa in New York and when we were in Arizona the man tried to run us off the road?  Nodding yes, I protected us then with my army issued rifle and everything turned out fine, right?  I will always protect you, that’s always going to be my promise to you all.  Good night honey, we will talk in the morning…I climbed the stairs to my room, in the darkness I lay awake searching for serenity and comfort.  Flashbacks of  squatting on the floor of the backseat of our ’64 Ford Torino station wagon hanging on and being jolted because the driver in the other car was side swiping us and trying to move out of the way so dad could get is rifle.  Tears staining my pillow I fell asleep afraid to dream and felt the worst was yet to come…Pease Out!

We are about to revisit those times when 1965 Civil Rights was in the forefront setting a maelstrom of fire, anger, violence across the country galvanizing America and the world to announce to the world the revolutionary transformative cultural challenge has come to life.  As a result, retaining its African-American roots, principles and aesthetics, jazz has become one of the world’s first truly global music styles. The centrality of ‘mindfulness improvisation, maintaining fluidity of collective and collaborative nature of jazz’s influence enables us to have a vision that will reveal new traits without sacrificing identity.

I was born with a pen in my mouth.  I am also a visual person.  Jazz was my first language.  Sounds emanated from a place deep inside of me and the only way I could express myself was through sight and sounds.  It was a ‘mindfulness improvisation’ that began before I could speak.  It became the secret life of liner notes that would save my life some day.  For now, the gifts that God gave me were about to come to life.   Using mindfulness improvisation as an instruction manual that gives formulas to help us face challenges, fears and civil strife are transformed and awakened to who we are meant to be.  It is what I would like to call Mindfulness Improvisation because you have to be present with your fears in order to transform and causes you to grow and discover your gifts.  We are born with these gifts, however, some are just natural proclivities and what we like to do.  To carry this thought further, challenges bring about the hidden gifts and abilities  that are dormant in all of us.  Destiny is the difference between what should be from what you are meant to be.

My initial discoveries more than 20 years ago on my spiritual path and facing Breast Cancer allowed me to see that there is a bigger picture of life, a level of reality beyond a mere human experiential life.   These awareness’s shifted my perception tremendously and awakening a visioning process that is developed as a way of mindfulness improvisation that creates a new insight.  So let life challenges begin, we are transforming and awakening to the gifts we are giving and creating terrains and vistas  of adventure and amazement to an ever evolving life!  Peace Out!  JBC 8-)

rhythm primer rest

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Jazz Bytes ~ Rawsome Zucchini Pasta Marinara by Chef Gena Hamshaw feat. Seattle Women’s Jazz Orchestra – Nisqually Riff

It is 80 degrees and sunny and the humidity is low in the Pacific NW.  It is a gorgeous day to do what I like to refer to as my eazy peazy summer day and this recipe is absolutely delicious and fits right in.  Bon Appétit!  Peace Out!  JBC 8-)

 

vegan-zucchini-pasta_ Courtesy of food52_MarkWweinberg_

vegan-zucchini-pasta_ Courtesy of food52_MarkWweinberg_

 

Author Notes: This is one of the simplest way to eat zucchini noodles, and one of the best. The marinara sauce is raw — nothing more than blended tomatoes and some seasoning — but in spite of that it manages to taste rich and complex. – Gena Hamshaw  Serves 4

  • 3cups vine-ripened or heirloom tomatoes, chopped
  • 1/2cup red bell pepper, chopped
  • 1/2cup sun-dried tomatoes, chopped (you can use tomatoes that are oil-packed and drained, or tomatoes that are dried and have been rehydrated in boiling water, then drained)
  • 1clove garlic, minced

Blend the tomatoes, pepper, sun-dried tomatoes, garlic, maple syrup, sea salt, black pepper, thyme, and basil in a blender or a food processor till relatively smooth. Drizzle in the olive oil with the motor of the machine running, and keep blending till the sauce is smooth. Season to taste, and set the sauce aside.

  1. Use a spiralizer, a vegetable peeler, or a box grater to cut your zucchini into noodle shapes. Divide the zucchini onto four plates, and top each with about half a cup of the marinara sauce. Garnish each plate with a tablespoon of chopped basil, and serve.

Japanese translation for meaning

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

 

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Jazz on Canvas ~ Apology Of Genius by Mina Loy feat. Thurston Moore’s “Mina Loy”

La Maison en papier_drawing and gouache by Mina Loy 1906 Courtesy of Michael Duncan Collection

La Maison en papier_drawing and gouache by Mina Loy 1906 Courtesy of Michael Duncan Collection

Born in England Mina Loy worked as a poet and visual artist in Paris, Florence, and New York City, where her beauty and outlandish behavior demonstrated at the center of several avant-garde circles. The eccentric vocabulary and syntax of Loy’s free-verse poems and their sardonic treatment of love can puzzle and offend, but no reader can question the work’s originality nor the poet’s fierce intelligence.  In the top of the 20th Century when Jazz was born as a new American cultural art form Mina repleat with swagger, style, panache challenging the upper crust society in America and dropping and become part of the scene in New York City.  Peace Out!  JBC 8-)

Apology Of Genius

by Mina Loy

Ostracized as we are with God
The watchers of the civilized wastes
reverse their signals on our track

Lepers of the moon
all magically diseased
we come among you
innocent
of our luminous sores

unknowing
how perturbing lights
our spirit
on the passion of Man
until you turn on us your smooth fools’ faces
like buttocks bared in aboriginal mockeries

We are the sacerdotal clowns
who feed upon the wind and stars
and pulverous pastures of poverty

Our wills are formed
by curious disciplines
beyond your laws

You may give birth to us
or marry us
the chances of your flesh
are not our destiny –

The cuirass of the soul
still shines –
And we are unaware
if you confuse
such brief
corrosion with possession

In the raw caverns of the Increate
we forge the dusk of Chaos
to that imperious jewellery of the Universe
— the Beautiful –

While to your eyes
A delicate crop
of criminal mystic immortelles
stands to the censor’s scythe

 

Japanese translation for meaning

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

3 Comments

Jazz Riffshot ~ Improvisation ~ Awakening to The Life You Want…feat. University Of Toronto 10 O’clock Jazz Orchestra – “Awakening”

Reflections-of-a-Teaching-Artist-

 

“To live your dream, you’ve got to see something (dream) and be willing to act it out (action)  Acting out a dream is always the more difficult part since it requires a leap of faith without quite knowing exactly the way to go about achieving your desire.  It is easy to get discouraged and ultimately give up on your vision when you don’t know how to achieve it.”  Nadia Brown from Becoming:  The Life & Musings of a Girl Poet

 

A time comes in everyone’s life when you finally get it!  In the fog of Life that is colored by all of your fears and confusion you stop and listen to the still small voice inside your head that cries out…ENOUGH1 Enough fighting, crying, blaming, and most of all struggling to hold on to the past or future. You center yourself to a mindfulness meditation like a child quieting down after a tantrum holding back your tears or just let go you lean in and visualize the world through new eyes.

Charicature of Igor Stravinsky

Charicature of Igor Stravinsky

I am in the present. I cannot know what tomorrow will bring forth. I can know only what the truth is for me today. That is what I am called upon to serve, and I serve it in all lucidity.” ~ Igor Stravinsky

 

 

musical_note_clip_art_12518

You realize it’s time to stop hoping and waiting for something to change, or for happiness, safety and security to magically appear over the next horizon.

 

musical_note_clip_art_12518

 

You realize that in the real world fairy tales and movies have happy endings, and that there are no guarantees of “happily ever after”.  It has to begin with you…and living the process you feel  a     sense of serenity and acceptance.

 

musical_note_clip_art_12518

You realize that you are not perfect and that not everyone will always love, appreciate or approve of who or what you are… but that’s OK. They are entitled to their own opinions. (however wrong they may  be LOL)

 

musical_note_clip_art_12518

You realize the importance of loving and nurturing yourself…and in the process you have created a sense confidence that is rooted in self-approval.

 

musical_note_clip_art_12518

Your no longer complain and/or blame other people for the things they did or didn’t do to or for you –you realize that the only thing you can really count on is God’s grace and gifts you were born with,

 

musical_note_clip_art_12518

You realize that people don’t always say what they mean or mean what they say.  Not everyone will or can always be there for you  accepting the fact that it is not about You.

 

musical_note_clip_art_12518

You are able to stand on your own and can take care of yourself…and in the process you gain a sense of safety and security that makes you self-reliant and sufficient,

 

 

musical_note_clip_art_12518

You stop judging and begin to accept people as they are.  You realize that their shortcomings and human frailties are what God created in us freeing us so that we may gain a sense of peace and contentment that is a manifestation of forgiveness.

musical_note_clip_art_12518 You open up to new worlds, different points of view, and the tapestry of possibilities and wonder that life has to offer. You reassess and redefine who you are and what you really stand for letting go of those things that no longer serve you.

 

musical_note_clip_art_12518

You accept the difference between wanting and needing.  You discard the doctrines, values and thoughts that you’ve outgrown.

 

 

musical_note_clip_art_12518

You accept that there is power and dignity in creating and making contributions to make the world a better place.

 

 

musical_note_clip_art_12518

You understand that the principles of honesty and integrity are essence of what holds us together and the foundation upon which you must build your life.

 

musical_note_clip_art_12518

You don’t know everything and it’s not your responsibility to save the world.  The only cross  you have to bear is the one you choose to carry.

 

musical_note_clip_art_12518You realize what love is.  Relationships only thrive with mutual respect and caring and harmony. You understand that “alone”  does not mean lonely it means solitude.

 

musical_note_clip_art_12518
You realize that you cannot control people, situations or outcomes. You  distinguish between guilt and accountability and the value of setting boundaries and learning how to say NO.

 

musical_note_clip_art_12518Your body is really your temple. You must take care for it and treat it with respect. You eat a balanced diet, drinking more water, add walking meditation to your lifestyle.

 

 

musical_note_clip_art_12518You understand that being “tired” fuels doubt, fear, and confusion and treat yourself to rest.  Sustenance comes with the understanding that ‘food fuels the body’ ~ ‘laughter fuels the soul’ and ‘gratitude makes your life fuller and richer’. It is vital that you take more time to laugh and to play.

 

musical_note_clip_art_12518

You accept the fact that in order to achieve success you need direction, discipline and perseverance. You also understand sometimes you cannot do it alone, and when to take the chance to ask for help and support.

 

musical_note_clip_art_12518

You understanding that fear is not real and a tremendous drain on your energy.  You are now able to lean into your fears understanding that there is no wrong choice, you must make another this is what life is all about.  You are able to handle whatever comes before you because you are on the right wake.  “It is the not the destination that matters it is the journey.

 

musical_note_clip_art_12518

You fight for your beliefs and life and not waste it living under a cloud of confusion and despair.

 

musical_note_clip_art_12518

Most important principle in improvising your life is that life isn’t always fair, you don’t always get what you want and that sometimes bad things happen to all of us.

 

 

musical_note_clip_art_12518Negative emotions such as anger, envy and resentment must be redirected or you will disappear.

 

 

musical_note_clip_art_12518At the end of the day, you realize that you must have gratitude for your life and the simple comforts of shelter, food and a life you can create.  Instead of looking at what you don’t have you focus on the things you do have.

 

It is necessary for us to take responsibility for ourself by making a commitment to honor yourself and others never to settle for anything less than what your heart and soul desires.  Keep smiling, trusting, and to stay in mindful awareness allowing life to unfold into possibilities you never thought were possible.  This is what my mindfulness meditations have given me and what I learned from the jazz lessons I have included in my life improvising, experiencing, learning, accepting and waiting.  At the end of the day, with courage in you heart inhale your dreams and exhale those things that don’t allow them to become a reality.  July 30th is my birthday and I can honestly say that I have a love of life and are living the creative life that was only dreams when I was eleven years old.  How about you?  What have you learned?  I bet you will surprise yourself…. Peace Out!  JBC 8-)

 

rhythm primer rest

 

 

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Poet’s Beat ~ Solo Finger Solo by Jayne Cortez feat. Count Basie & His Orchestra playing “Strike Up The Band”

 

Photo of Count BASIE and Buck CLAYTON

Photo of Count BASIE and Buck CLAYTON

 

This is an excerpt from the Memoir/Running Chapter Title:  “The 1968 Newport Jazz Festival

The sixties were the age of youth, as 70 million children from the post-war baby boom became teenagers and young adults.  It was considered a movement away from the conservative fifties resulting in “revolutionary ways of thinking” effectively creating a real change in the cultural fabric of American life.  No longer content to be a stain of the age of depression and cultural stagnation because young folks wanted change. The changes affected education, social mores and values, lifestyles, laws and social justice, and more importantly the entertainment.  American culture underwent a revolutionary change in ideas, creativity, diversity and lifestyles that are continuing to evolve today.

….It was early April 1968 when dad burst into our family room announcing that we are going to move back to New York City.  I am fourteen years old and I thought I was going to attend Hollywood High.  The wind was knocked out of my sails.  I even asked if I could stay in L.A. and dad looked at me as if I had lost my mind.  Shaking his head and smiling “I am responsible for getting the MJFO with Dizzy rehearsed and ready to perform at the Newport Jazz Festival in June.  Of course you are my lead assistant as you were for Monterey and the opening of the Los Angeles Music Center right, Jan?  I was on cloud 9.

We travelled with the musicians and families via Greyhound and we stayed by the shore.  I was an amazing experience to witness for me as a young girl being a part of our backstage and onstage story.  The musicians were so polite and oozed a familial warmth and deep respect for one another.  The rehearsals were intense and lasted for hours with breaks for lunch.  I saw the discipline these artists had and their pursuit of exploring their passion and dedication to perform jazz with utmost perfection. They were well traveled and welcomed the opportunity to share jazz with everyone.  Dad said that he was arranging and orchestrating with Count Basie and His Barons of Rhythm who were well known to audiences across the Midwest through radio broadcasts from Kansas City’s Reno Club.  Dad brought me to the stage and Count Basie was rehearsing his orchestra and was sitting at the piano, he turned and motioned for me to sit next to him on the bench.  I shot a look at Dad, “What are you waiting for?  I ran and jumped up onto the bench.  He played this song…  Thanks for letting me share this moment with you.  The poem by Jayne Cortez perfectly captures my experience!  Peace Out!  JBC8-)

 

 Solo Finger Solo

by Jayne Cortez

 

When evening goes down into its jelly jelly jelly

into drain pipe cuts and stitches and vaccijations

protruding from arms

 

And spirit of the five by five man pushes

his sweet potatoes in the air

feather daddy leaps into a falcon of tropical bird squats

rubber legs swing into off beat onijos onijos

then into your solo finger solo

the blues chantrees jumps up and

repeats her nasal volcanic chant calling

 

Count Basie     Count Basie     Count Basie

 

And Count Basie

you burn through this timbale of goose flesh rhythms

a drop of iodine on your starfish lips

the intonation of your kiss of melodic trilling

into a labyrinth of one o’clock jumps

into corpuscle flashes of the blues torpedo

the erupting volcano of the blues shouters chanting your name

 

Count Basie     Count Basie     take ‘em to Chicago Count Basie

 

And Count Basie

you punctuate this strong bourbon mist of gamma globulin breath

a mixture of chords like serpentariums coiling

from the deep everglades of your body

and when the luscious screams of three headed root doctors split

Kansas City reeds in unison with this triple tapping

double stopping   slow grinding    loosey butt night swinging

with the blues chantress

erupting volcano of the blues torpedoes chanting your name

 

Count Basie

you reach through the bottom of the music

way down beneath cross rhythm vamps

below air stream of the lowest octave

into depths of a sacred drum

and Count Basie     Count Basie     Count Basie     Count Basie

how powerful and dignified and exquisite and direct and sharp

your solo finger solo is

 

Courtesy of The Jazz Poetry Anthology Eds. Sasha Feinstein & Yusef Komynyakaa

©  1991 Indiana University Press  All rights reserved

 

Japanese translation for meaning

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Poet’s Beat ~ “unfinished poem” by Carol Bergé accompanied by Kyle Eastwood’s “Summer Gone”

Modern-abstract-painted-porch-decoration-

Modern-abstract-painted-porch-decoration-

I have been hard at work writing the memoir.  When I begin to feel overwhelmed, I take a Mindful Awareness check to allow the fleeting negative self talk that rudely drops in the second I think I am swinging into full rhythm.   This can take a few minutes to a half an hour.  I get my sketch pad out and conjure up images that are flowing through my soul.  It has become a part of the process.  It is because I love writing more than my hating the blank page.  In high school when I was playing on the tennis team, I read a book by Timothy Gallway entitled Inner Tennis it changed my life.  It seems as though Jazz and mindful awareness also referred to as Mindfulness has moved my life away from entropy to a more “being” state with a smile inside/out.Peace Out!  JBC 8-)

 

 

unfinished poem

by Carol Bergé

 

to go out
to the world
this time dressed as a
japanese printmaker,
not the eye of
epicanthus, but
yes,
perspective
as that of an island:
out, out into a world,
to find it earth! and
more simple, complex
than it seemed:
reducible
to a few lines with
shadings, the wood
to its grain
rather than to the
external form.
what
part of earth are you!
and after that, to
go out,
perhaps dressed as a
haida shaman,
finding it
all ocean! and
strewn with cowry: lines
across sand.
once,
the land bridged.
let it
be an earth color:
orange of hematite or
dark as vital loam
where rivers are,
or blue
of roots from
the parched mesas,
saved
distillate of rain
toward one hand.
but always
as this rug:
woven
of wool from a real sheep,
alive, shorn with shears
and dyed
perhaps with berries
until brilliant, or
left so:
the soft natural.
but always
fashioned with
eyes, with hands,
as friends’ faces, worn or
young: with the
nature of it
evident,
brought
out.
Japanese translation for meaning

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.

, , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a comment

Excerpt from My Memoir: The Prologue (1st Draft)

healing spirit art creating circumstances

healing spirit art creating circumstances

It was Thursday, November 30th, 2000, a week after Thanksgiving.  It is a typical New York  City style event.  Sakes Fifth Avenue was ramping up piercing the veil of  festivities evoking spectacular window dressings that were dressed to the nines. The lighting of the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center was set to be lit that evening to awaken and welcome the world to New York City ‘s Winter and Christmas’ Wonderland had arrived.  The Plaza was as beautifully bedazzled with lights  and folks in horse drawn carriages were riding through Central Park.

It was my last chance to make up for my loss and devastation resulting from my bilateral mastectomy.   Life, as I knew it six months before today, would be restored.  It meant to examine my tools and gifts to create what 1Peter with respect to creating a “spiritual house” which your tools will reveal your destiny.  10As each one has received a special gift, employ it in serving one another as good stewards of the manifold grace of God

Today, I am accepting and embracing everything that has happened in my life so far:  It began with  father’s death; my mom’s return of terminal cancer and continuing treatment; my diagnosis on April 14, 2000 (coincidentally on my father’s birthday); my bilateral mastectomy with all of it’s complications; my chemotherapy with all of its’ dreadful side effects; my loss of my job as a successful legal assistant for over 20 years; basically my whole life.  Today is my day; I get the chance to make things right with the world and my universe within.  I hoped that it was not just an illusion.

Counting, 100…99…95, I am breathing in life, I see my surgeon with her mask, her eyes were reassuring and smiling, I blink.  85…80 I open my eyes again halfway, I see my mom, beautifully 1960’s  coiffed light brown hair; almond shaped pools of peaceful hazel green eyes; skin so soft and radiant that has been paled by society’s proscriptions; a sweet smile that always masked the pain of living in two worlds, now standing by my side, smiling and leans over to kiss me on my cheek.  I hear the music of my father’s music that I gave the surgical team begin to play, “The Shadow of Your Smile”, it is filling the air, I am breathing and moving my soul– feeling every note.  75…70, I open my eyes again, I see my father, I can only see his face, I close my eyes tightly and slowly open them again, he is still there, he is smiling and leans over to kiss my forehead and says, “you are playing my music, I added the song I wrote for you when you were born, can you hear it?”  I feel myself nodding.  Darkness now has consumed me.

            The next time my eyes open I am in the ICU, I am connected to several machines, they are beeping.  Morphine drip is set on automatic.  I stir trying to find some comfort in being in a lot of pain and searching for relief.  I turn my head and open my eyes and I see Todd a friend from work is standing by my bed.  He said he sneaked in, my mom told him where I was.  We smiled and laughed.  Suddenly, an alarm went off—nurses and staff come running in.  I scream.  “What is going on?”  My mouth is covered with an oxygen mask.  My surgeon is now standing next to me,  says, “the graft failed, I have to take you back into the OR.”  I said “WAIT!  How long have I been in surgery?”  She answered, “16 hours.”  “What about my DNR?”  She said “your mom rescinded it.”  Suddenly my mother was beside the gurney as I was being wheeled to the OR that was awaiting me.  My mom motioned for them to stop the gurney, she positioned herself to be in front of me.  “I can’t mom, just let me go, ”  I cried.  She took my hand and said, “I need you, you have been my caregiver for the past 3 years and I still need you, I am your caregiver now and more importantly, it is not your time.

“Jannat” performed by Gilberto & His  Musicabana Orchestra

It meant that if God gives an assignment,  you also are given the skill.  So that meant to me to return to writing and art with all of my heart and it will reveal your wake or assignment.  That is when my journey became healed and was transformed.  My fears drifted into the darkness at the center of my soul.  I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, I exhaled, letting go of the most frightening and painful parts of my life and awaked to the allow grace to flow into my life.   I began to feel as though I was sailing into uncharted waters, completely trusting and hearing the song my father wrote for me having faith that my life’s purpose and plan would take care of itself.    This is my song and story…

“…I keep looking for one more teacher, only to find that fish learn from the water and birds learn from the sky.” (p.275)”   ― Mark NepoFacing the Lion, Being the Lion: Finding Inner Courage Where It Lives

What do you think?  I would love for you to take a few moment to share your thoughts and comments, JBC 8-)  Peace Out!

Japanese translation for meaning

Copyright 2011-2014  by Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ http://jazzybeatchick.com your readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance.