Electric Britches

please consider:

on the dash of my car there sits, resting, a patch of wheatgrass that has been growing patiently for several days now. perhaps in another week or so i can harvest those luscious greens for use in another smoothie, providing me with all my required vitamins and minerals and not a single toxin.

as such:

one might infer that i have begun work in a natural food market. for those making this rather deft inference, i applaud thee. the turnip truck is a privately run, handsome and friendly, natural and organic market standing proudly in historic east nashville. i absolutely love this job; i absolutely love coming to work and being greeted by locally grown leeks, and organic daffodil greens.


i am pleased and honored to be part of this history, if only as a spectator. certainly this music and its life has impacted my own.

currently on the chopping block:

the charles lloyd quartet
"dream weaver"

1. autumn sequence
a) autumn prelude
b) autumn leaves
c) autumn echo


2. dream weaver
a) meditation
b) dervish dance


3. bird flight


4. love ship


5. sombrero sam


charles lloyd, t. sax & flute
keith jarrett, piano
cecil mcbee, bass
jack dejohnette, drums


In the Heavens

i think that the search for life in outer space, via radio communication, is not only the highest metaphysical activity for this lifetime, but the best reason for the nations and people of this planet to come together in peace and love.


Al Final del Camino

after thirteen long years, i quietly say, and with a smile, i am getting my first boyz II men album.

it all began last sunday, april third, prior to hearing back from the internship people, more on this anon, when i went out back to take out some trash. once at the trashcans i found two bacardi neon lights: one fully functional, the other busted. while i wasn't interested in holding onto the signs for my own use, i kept them because if my trash days on the streets of boston told me one thing, anything can be traded for something. much to mtb's dismay i hauled the ugly little things into the apt. stashing one in the closet and the other in my room. to keep mtb off my back i wrote a note saying that i would pitch the signs come tuesday, if i couldnt get rid of them first.

on monday i posted an add to give away the broken sign on craigslist, for free. i also received an email from ms morrisson, with the capitol news connection, a division of PRI that tailor makes capitol hill news stories for subscribing local stations. excited that someone finally responded to a job application, i completely forgot about the signs, till late on tuesday. i hadnt heard back from anyone on craigslist, and knowing that these signs were valuable to someone, i posted again, this time in jest, offering to trade the neon signs for "your favorite boyz II men album." i only half heartedly hoped to get a response.

eventually i did hear back from some people who offered to buy me a copy of a particular boyz II men album for me, in exchange for the sign. that was a little much, so i told these folk that i would trade the neon for anything. they never responded...

finally today, the day that was supposed to be marked as a quiet day of preparation for and the occurence of the actual phone interview (unfortunately postponed) i exchanged 19 emails with a belmont student who was willing trade their copy of "cooleyhighharmony (spanish edition)" for both lights.

and there you have it. i am trading space consuming, electricity consuming, and taste consuming advertisements (for super sub standard "rum") in exchange for an album, both in english and spanish, featuring four excellent vocalist, together, as the best selling R&;B act ever, including two version of "end of the road" (al final del camino) a song that spent thirteen weeks as the billboard number one, and subsequently consume no space, no electricity, and will never lack in taste.

by the time that the phone call comes, at 4 pm EST, on monday afternoon, where i will have to prove my worth as a potential intern for a national news program, i will be riding high and confident on the wave of pleasure, which is sure to be, boyz II men,



the east coast family.


What's That?

"hey man, what are you listening to?"

"what's that...you don't listen to first wave indian reggae? this is my favorite, babla and kanchan."


"it's great, check this out."

Greatest Hits: Babla and Kanchan

side A

Kuchh Gadbad Hai
Ai Ai O
Tiney Winey
Aba Na Jaibay
Kahay Sharma

side B

Kuchh Kuchh Baby
Banie Ray Banie
Aye Bahaar
Aye Mere Dil
Bolo Bolo

produced by: rohit jagessar
composed and arranaged by: babla
sung by: kanchan

rohit international, 1989.


Hey Now

research can
be fun (esp.
over black
caramel tea,

lightly sweet-
ened, and jazz
music, "go


that is right, tonight, i have waded knee deep into texts on jazz / books on lester young, and am splashing about, all thanks to the nashville public library, researching for the hopeful radio documentary. in so doing it occurs to me that:

a.) there are those jazz writers, who are critics and musical theorists, who have the very mathematic ability to pick apart, note for note, the solos and compositions of musicians, seeking out the hidden patterns and formula, while also retaining the ability feel for the music itself and therefore connect these two different faces of music (the math and the emotion) into meaning.

b.) there are those other jazz writers, who do little more than what i am currently doing: seeking out every informative bit available, and then tying them up together, into a felt, but often misguided history.

while i am a little embarrassed to fall into this latter category, it does bring me a little hope to know that i must start somewhere (and that somwhere being on par with published authors!). also, in reading these breadthie histories i am coming across a great number of jazz texts that exist not in nashville, and very well may be out of print, that would bring me a large amount of satisfaction to own and read. yes there is more out there, and yes it is human to want.


tonight, from my one dollar tea pot, i am drinking a fine black caramel tea rtb and i purchased on my recent trip to tx. while i am not one to linger in the black tea world, yasemin* has done her best to choose the best teas from around the world to sell, and this flavored tea is no exception. basically unsweet, these black leaves dont go bitter very quickly, slowly releasing their hidden accents and notes, which play nicely off the small cubes of caramel that are included, loosely with the tea. caramel on the aroma, and tea on the taste. quite pleasurable. this evening i lightly sweetened the end of the taste with a few brown rocks of sugar added quietly in the bottom of the white pot.

*yasemin, the mother of a beautiful and healthy point five year old child, runs a burgeoning tea empire from her home in dallas texas. not only is she the purveyor of the finest teas i have ever come across, she is a lecturer and enthusiast, always excited to share a pleasurable pot of tea along side her always welcoming hello. although she recently closed physical shop, on account of wanting to spend time with the newborn, you can find her teas online at http://www.yasemintea.com/ where i plan to do the broad majority of my tea purchasing, to death do us part.

jazz, the music

amidst all the reading and note-taking and tea i pleasured myself with a little red, that is, red garland. a jazz pianist extraordinaire, red is known mostly for his work with miles' quintets, but he truly excels in the trio format. tonight, to tickle the ear, i listened to his album "groovy" a 1957 effort that is among his finest. please consider the following:

Red Garland Trio

1 C Jam Blues 8:19
2 Gone Again 6:44
3 Will You Still Be Mine? 4:42
4 Willow Weep For Me 9:34
5 What Can I Say
(After I Say I'm Sorry)? 7:13
6 Hey Now 3:41

Red Garland, piano
Paul Chambers, bass
Arthur Taylor, drums

Recorded in New York City; May 24
and August 9, 1957

Recording Engineer, Rudy Van Gelder

Prestige Records.


Chapter LX. Speculations and Conclusions

"The season being far advanced when we were in New Orleans, the roses and magnolia blossoms were falling; but here in St. Paul it was the snow. In New Orleans we had caught an occasional withering breath from over a crater, apparently; here in St. Paul we caught a frequent benumbing one from over a glacier, apparently.

"I am not trying to astonish by these statistics. No, it is only natural that there should be a sharp difference between climates which lie upon parallels of latitude which are one or two thousand miles apart. I take this position, and I will hold it and maintain it in spite of the newspapers. The newspaper thinks it is n't a natural thing; and once a year, in February, it remarks, with ill-concealed exclamation points, that while we, away up here are fighting snow and ice, folks are having new strawberries and peas down South; callas are blooming out of doors, and the people are complaining of the warm weather. The newspaper never gets done being surprised about it. It is caught regularly every February. There must be a reason for this; and this reason must be change of hands at the editorial desk. You cannot surprise an individual more than twice with the same marvel--not even with the February miracles of the Southern climate; but if you keep putting new hands at the editorial desk every year or two, and forget to vaccinate them against the annual climatic surprise, that same old thing is going to occur right along. Each year one new hand will have the disease, and be safe from its recurrence; but this does not save the newspaper. No, the newspaper is in as bad case as ever; it will forever have its new hand; and so, it will break out with the strawberry surprise every February as long as it lives. The new hand is curable; the newspaper itself is incurable. An act of Congress--no, Congress could not prohibit the strawberry surprise without questionably stretching its powers. An amendment to the Constitution might fix the thing, and that is probably the best and quickest way to get at it. Under authority of such an amendment, Congress could then pass an act inflicting imprisonment for life for the first offence, and some sort of lingering death for subsequent ones; and this, no doubt, would presently give us a rest. At the same time, the amendment and the resulting act and penalties might easily be made to cover various cognate abuses, such as the Annual-Veteran-who-has-Voted-for-Every- President-from-Washington-down,-and-Walked-to-the-Polls- Yesterday-with-as-Bright-an-Eye-and-as-Firm-a-Step-as-Ever, and ten or eleven other weary yearly marvels of that sort, and of the Oldest-Freemason, and Oldest-Printer, and Oldest-Baptist-Preacher, and Oldest-Alumnus sort, and Three-Children-Born-at-a-Birth sort, and so on, and so on. And then England would take it up and a law prohibiting the further use of Sidney Smith's jokes, and appointing a commissioner to construct some new ones. Then life would be a sweet dream of rest and peace, and the nations would cease to long for heaven.

"But I wander from my theme. St. Paul is a wonderful town. . .

-- an excerpt from "Life on the Mississippi," by Mark Twain, 1883.



bright and early tomorrow morning i will rise, and head they way of july johnson and roscoe brown as i travel south and west across the state of arkansas into north eastern texas. unlike messers johnson and brown i am not looking for a runaway wife, nor a sheriff on the hunt, i certainly don't expect to come across any stone throwing pre-pubescent girls, and i won't be bringing along my son. also, i dont intend to die at the hands of blue duck and his men. i do however expect to spend some pleasant time in the arms of rtb, reading, and laughing, and crafting all sorts of arts and walks. we will cap the week off with a three day stay in austin. two of these days will be spent at the hotel san jose*.

if you want a postcard from the road please email me with your address. many thanks.

and now,

mtb's and my first listen to, "woman king".