Here is a short list of men I’ve never met whom I nevertheless allow
into my ear-holes. They are buglers of some renown. The list is in order
1. Woody Shaw
2. Pops 3. Freddie Hubbard. The Maiden Voyage solo was a career. 4. Miles, particularly if he was pissing someone off at that very moment. 5. Don Cherry/Lester Bowie/Bill Dixon, because WTF guys?
Also, Clark Terry, we did meet and it was seminal. I love you.
Also, also, whoever decided I should have to stop and look up whether it’s ‘who’ or ‘whom’ every time (and then still get it wrong,) should be wrapped in an old Sousaphone and set adrift. You know what you can do with that ‘m.’
Had a nice time on a day trip to Weston, MO with Will Leathem today. I hiked 8.85K in and around Weston Bend State Park and had coffee at the Weston Coffee Roastery where I had the treat of meeting Will’s friend, the lovely singer Connie Dover.
The year was rolling down, and a vital curve had been reached, the tilt that gives way to headlong rush. And when the monarch butterflies had passed and were gone, the skies were vacant, the air poised. The dark night into which the year was plunging was not a sleep but an awakening, a new and necessary austerity, the sparer climate for which I longed. The shed trees were brittle and still, the creek light and cold, and my spirit holding its breath.
I’d like to take a moment to remind you, if you haven’t already done so, to get on here and post something that expresses your outrage about young people in our world trying to do something they believe … the rest “Credit Where Credit is Due”