Yanagisawa

I remember as a pre-teen saving my pennies to buy my first record, a 45rpm by the Royal Guardsmen called Snoopy vs. the Red Baron

My mentioning of Pat Martino prompted me to find his website. It has been years since I really listened to him and I wanted to catch up. This guy is amazing. Had an aneurism and when he awoke from the resultant surgery had little to no memory. Relearned the guitar from listening to his prior recordings. I adjure you (by Jesus whom Paul preacheth) to check out his website. (www.patmartino.com)

Your experience at the "academy" was similar to mine, and probably a lot of musicians who are largely self-taught. One day a long time ago my "warped ear" started hearing an interesting concept to chord changes. I developed a system that works for me based on big leaps and patterns of 4ths and 5ths. I'm too old to shake the world...but it's my answer to the "Coltrane" problem that looms over every serious sax player. It's novel and I am told by colleagues that they know it's me within two bars of a tune. I went to a recognized jazz pedagogue not too long ago and we mutually (and amicably) agreed we were wasting each other's time. I think the great ones on any instrument pretty much heard something in their head and the months and years of woodshedding was for the purpose of developing the facility to get it out through their instrument. This is usually documented if one is lucky enough to hear early recordings of musical pioneers...you can hear the infantile concepts of what was to fully develop. The "academy" usually gets it backward. They fill the aspiring musician with "orthodox" musical concepts and then enroll them in a "program" to learn how to play it. IMO the "academization" of any art laminates it and puts it into relic status...therefore allowing the "experts" and academics to make a pretty good living expounding their wondrous views...all the while turning out clones who are afraid of an original thought. Sounds a lot like religion.

As a non-guitar player here are my fave guitarists humbly submitted for your approval: Kenny Burrell: clean and tasty Pat Martino: such harmonic chops and the facility to pull them off , fastest I ever heard, improvised solos that approached novels yet never repeated an idea. Is it true he had a stroke and totally relearned how to play? Pat Methany: IMO truly invented a new sound and approach to jazz guitar. and my fave of all time: Joe Pass: a master of chording and soloing all at the same time. Saw him with just a guitar, a small amp and a stool and time stood still.

As I re-read my post I can see that it might convey a hint of elitism. This is entirely the fault of my communication skills. (Of which I'm not "in the know") My intent was to communicate, without personal advocacy, that there are elites in every field, and that their efforts are, by and large, unappreciated. This is understandable, because no sane person would lay awake at night wondering if they should play a Locrian or a Super-Locrian scale over the turnaround in Giant Steps. Any snobbery was unintentional.

You are right about jazz being mostly music to impress other musicians- but allow me to give a little background. I believe jazz, in it's infancy, was still very much "folk" music in that it spoke to and spoke of "folks". The jazz and swing of the thirties and forties, although more elegant and "uptown", was still ubiquitous because it's elements of syncopation, drive, riffs, etc still appealed to the ears and feet of the layman. It was in the fifties that things changed. As a jazz musician mastered his instrument he found no place to exhibit his discoveries. The swing bands were very vanilla, the R&B stuff was very elementary and riff-oriented. And so, like in many disciplines, a sort of "Mensa" club of very proficient and creative artists formed a "club" with very strict membership requirements. This was best exhibited by Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Max Roach, Bud Powell, etc. and what it was called was be-bop. To keep the "riff-raff" out they would take a standard show tune (How High the Moon) and play it at breakneck speed. The standard chord changes would be altered to include all sorts of wonderful, colorful deviations from the predictable slurpy corny triadic sounds most people's ears were used to. This kind of jazz was/is very esoteric and exclusionary (to both listener and wannabe performer) because it was designed to be that way...demanding to the performer and to the listener. It takes a committment of both aficionado and artist to enjoy jazz. Since that time improvisational jazz has remained exclusionary and esoteric. It is not for the occasional listener or the weekend warrior. It is a demanding discipline that provides a palate for those who want to keep growing technically and artistically. Finally, I would surmise that every discipline has it's exclusionary "Mensa" clubs with strict "membership" requirements of proficiency. Policemen, firemen, mathemeticians, athletes, salespeople, etc all have circles of studs whose talents and artistry in their chosen field can only be showcased in special events designed for the best of the best, and whose greatness is only appreciated by those few "in the know".

Amen and amen. Hasn't that always been the temptation for artists, not just in the Way, but culture at-large? ...If you just clip your wings back a little bit ...If you just clip your hair a little bit ...If you just clip your attitude back a little bit... ...you will be able to fit into this suit...and a larger demographic of normal people will like you...and you might even be able to make a living selling your commodities. Wasn't it the "dream" gig for a committed Wayfer musician to be on staff playing for "God's people?" I personally know plenty...name one who stayed for any amount of time that wasn't "clipped" asap into Lawrence Welk-dom.

Dinah Washington is one of my all time faves, that had to be so cooool... The way the likes of Dinah, and Etta James would articulate words and phrases... "Whatttt...a DIF-rence...a Dayymmmaaakes" Man, caressing each syllable - molding those words like they were modeling clay - man, it's obscene how they tittilated every vowel... Scuse me, gotta go...

Yea, but even the dogs are permitted to eat the dung crumbs off the master's table.

I read the Chet Baker book too. Love his music, it was too sad...just totally consumed him...the photos told the whole story. Don't forget about Bird...dead at 35. It's possible Coltrane's liver cancer was attributable to his abuses in his young, stupid days. Lester Young Stan Getz ....the list goes on and on. Some success stories of those who battled and won - Miles, Elvin Jones, Jackie McLean, Red Rodney, Sonny Rollins... Dizzy stayed clean and lived a grand old life with lots of money - bopped all over his colleagues' graves.

...so I'll just slip this under the door. If you'll give me ten minutes of your time I'll show you that you don't know what you're talking about in the Hunters After God's Heart field.

Ya beat me to it. When I saw this "artwork" I immediately thought of the Watchtowerawakeplaintruth school. It took me back to every laundromat I ever visited. (And being a WOW two timer, Way Corps, and a vagrant bohemian at certain times in my life I've visited a few) Is there an institute where students go to learn this style? Is it LSD induced?

Of courses in "the world" a negligence suit would be appropriate. But we are Bible believin' folk and the Doctrine, as prescribed in I Cor, is that believers should never, ever, ever take other believers to court. Never mind the circumstances in Corinth, or in the Way, pertaining to this matter. The Church Doctrine is set in Paul's letter. That's what God said, that's what he meant. Do not stray from the Litigation Doctrine.

Man, it's a gas just reading this thread. By the time I went in the Korps we were in the double digits and the atmosphere was very tight sphinctered. If there had been cats like you in my Korps I would have tried to get back for my last year.

A blonde comes out of Wal-Mart and finds that it's blizzarding badly. Visability is zero. As she begins to drive home she spots a snow plow and sighs in relief...for she has been told that if you can follow a snow plow in a blizzard you wont get stranded. It's slow going, but she stays right behind the truck. After two hours the truck stops...the driver gets out and says, "I noticed you were following me...I wanted to let you know that we're through with Wal-Mart and now we're going to plow the lot across the street."

There once was a man named Nash Who sent all his hard earned cash To a place called the Way Now he slaves night and day Washing windows and slinging hash

I have always enjoyed the Rand/Brandon/Objectivist offerings, and if a specific cornfield cult hadn't come along first I probably would have joined that one. Rand's politics and ontology thrilled me long ago and still intrigue me...you're right, there is no such thing as a "civil" - in fact the term "people" is an abstract, as well as the term "person" - pure abstract generalization to describe an individual who is truly either male or female... ..on rights being derived from man at his best...this was appealing for me as a Randite, and still is in theory, but in practice is as utopian as any brand of Marxism. I think Paul the Apostle states the frustration as well as anyone in his letter to the Romans - discussing the concepts of being able to conceptualize man at his best, before himself and others, and the futility of not being able to pull it off in the nitty gritty world of objects. I guess in all my wanderings I always come back to the fact that I have consistently shown that, even though I am capable of reasoning what is best for me viz a viz others I am incapable of escaping the circle of failure that follows me, and besides all of that I have a limited time - for I have deduced that I will most likely die at some point. I, more than ever, need Jesus Christ... ...my zeal for Rand's "system" broke down for me when I had to pit Jesus' admonition and example of sacrifice against Rand's frothing diatribes against such a notion as being duty. This didn't happen overnight and I really battled with it, and still do. I shared her opinion of Kant and the weakness and boredom that comes from an ethics of categorical imperative. This seems to be the big question of the day, "Where does self-esteem cease being a Godly, healthy, natural tending of one's existence as an individual, and become an unnatural narcissism?".......and "When does the notion of sacrifice cease being a noble, natural, beneficial act that was exemplified by Jesus (and many other highly esteemed figures in history) and become an entirely wrong way of being where one's raison de etre is to meet all others' needs?" Sorry for the rambling nature, just loosely threading thoughts...no one is obliged to read these things, thankfully. [This message was edited by Yanagisawa on August 17, 2002 at 9:43.]

Two men get on a plane and go to coach...they peer into first class and see a gentleman in a funny hat reading the paper. "Look, there's the Pope," says one. "Can't be," says the other. "I swear that's the Pope," says the one. "I'm very sure the Pope is going to fly commercial," says the other. "I'm certain that's the Pope," says the the one, "I'm going up to ask him!" He saunters up to first class, sticks his head through the curtain, and adresses the gentleman, "Excuse me sir, aren't you the Pope?" The gentleman puts down his paper, glowers at him, and says, "Why don't you just f**k off!!" The man goes back to his seat. "Well, was it the Pope?" the other man asked. "I don't know, he wouldn't say"

Are you really ready to scuffle over theodicy, or was that a rhetorical question? If you're ready to rumble over this heavyweight issue then you should take it outside. (Outside being the doctrinal threads.)

In the Way I had actually forced myself to believe that emotions were evil...they only got in the way of "believing the Word" I just recently realized that emotions are our God-given means to engage the world around us - that glassy eyed stare was real because we willingly turned off our emotions, thus disengaging from external stimuli. Caught part of "Pleasantvill" on TV the other night...seemed to speak to this issue.

I contend that Maryanne is winning by a landslide because, as red-blooded American males, (I cant speak for the women) we may fantasize about the luscious, dessert-like Ginger, but always come home to the meat and potatoes girl-next-door.