MANIFESTO & SUPERMANIFESTO.

This manifesto begins with love. For my mentor and close friend, Faye Moskowitz, who passed away in February. A love that can no longer be expressed, directly, to the person whom I love. Faye changed my life, through hundreds of interactions. Teaching, listening, sharing, crying, singing, even smoking weed once, yep. What does one do with grief that keeps ringing outward? Understandably, loss can turn to outrage, given the subtractions we must endure.

 

I listen to “In My Head” quite often. I’m jealous of the group, Gilla Band (or “Girl Band”), who hail from Dublin. This song is emblematic of the music I’d like to make: short, powerful, and aggressive. It’s the group’s first single, from 10 years ago. When the vocalist, Dara Kiely, screams toward the end—well, that’s how I feel, about losing Faye. You transport your feelings to a song and make them fit.

 

I did something similar on a piece, “Uh Huh,” I recorded with Joy on Fire, the band I collaborated with to produce States of America, an album which we released in June. In the middle of the tune, when our saxophonist Anna Meadors (above, left) tears the building down, I do some shouting. But it’s not like Kiely in Gilla Band. I think he means it a bit more. And it’s something, frankly, I need to work on.

I listen to John Coltrane’s composition “Equinox” (recorded in 1960) every day. He’s more famous for other compositions but I keep returning to this blues because of the gravity established by the pianist, McCoy Tyner, and Coltrane, too, when he enters the song on tenor sax. Of course, Coltrane’s notes become brighter, the brightness of grief, because he was a cerebral and sweet individual, I would imagine. Don’t take my word for it, though. Go listen to “In a Sentimental Way” released in 1963 by Trane and Duke Ellington. 

You could look upon the1963 Ellington & Coltrane album as a “super-group” effort. I do. Together with my friend, Emily Cohen, I’m assembling a “super-group” to help tell the story of the folk song “Liza Jane.” (Above: find a conceptual trailer featuring harmonica player Phil Wiggins.) It’s not public yet, the super-group, so I can’t reveal the identities of the musicians, but they’re amazing. We’re going to film them, extensively, in performance, in 2023. The group is older and younger, men and women, Black and white, folk and blues and rock, banjo and fiddle and violin and slide guitar and quills . . . .

2023 will also see the release of POOR GAL: The Cultural History of Little Liza Jane, forthcoming from University Press of Mississippi. I wrote the book during a torrid six months, while the pandemic raged. Above, I say “the folk song ‘Liza Jane’” but it’s a family of songs, an extremely unruly lot at that. This book’s the hardest thing I’ve ever written, and undoubtedly, flawed. But I mean it, the writing. Just as much as Kiely means his yelling in Gilla Band. The story of this family of songs, well, is bigger than me. And that’s part of the supermanifesto. Writing is not about “me.” Rather, it’s bigger than “me.” 

I did okay as a writer in 2022. A book of poems, Metacarpalism, appeared from Unsolicited Press, out yonder in Portland, Ore. The Washington, D.C. press Primary Writing Books produced my prose-and-photography collection, The Fox Who Loves Me. Grantmakers, literally, kept me afloat: the Maryland State Arts Council and the Arts & Humanities Council of Montgomery County (Md.) I am indebted to the kindness and professionalism of these presses and organizations.

A few weeks ago, my close friend Doug Lang (above) passed away. Doug was a poet, and a teacher, who inspired people with his writing, Welsh wit, and comprehensive knowledge of American culture. We grew especially close after his childhood football team, Swansea City, climbed into the Premier League for a few years. A group of us became hooligans upon this development, often getting tight off stout at 10 am in pubs, and listing out into the sunshine, to crow about our worldview. Doug enjoyed this “bloke” activity quite a bit, and now, once more, there’s love that can no longer be expressed, directly, to the person whom I love.

I will always be Swansea, “O City Said I.”

One of the Swansea City hooligans (Casey) turned me on to Gilla Band and another (Rod) turned me on to Dry Cleaning, a group from London. I’m a bit obsessed with “Magic of Meghan” and with the singer, Florence Shaw. She projects so much tragedy at the microphone, and of course, the lyrics are often spoken, which is what I tried to do with Joy on Fire. She has amazing timing, and often delivers scathing satire. The “whoops” (all three of them) are quite nourishing.

I was once at a reading facilitated by the English department where Faye and I taught. Since students were there, it was a “dry” event, but I’d bootlegged-in a bitteen of the spirits, and, having extensive knowledge of the domicile, I snuck through some secret passageways and doorways, where I would situate myself in a private enclave, where I could partake of a “nip.” Privately, or so I thought, because once I stepped-through into the ostensible safety of the enclave, there was Faye, smoking a joint(!)

At a party once (but not the one depicted above.) Doug with an “ass pocket of whiskey.” I have to put it like this: an “English aristocratic sort” had insisted that Doug’s hometown of Swansea had not been bombarded during World War II. Doug retorted that he’d lived through said bombardments as a very young boy. (Wikipedia, et cetera, confirms Doug’s account.) Anyhow, this “English aristocratic sort” had attended the event with his trousers rolled very high, and Doug made sure that the fellow understood the folly of the trouser-rolling, as we were on the second floor, in a city that wasn’t bracing for a flood. It wasn’t even raining.  

When your best friend from the animal kingdom emerges from the mist. The scoundrel. The trickster. The beautiful vixen. She knows she’s a good-looking fox because I tell her as much every time I jog with her after sunset.

It wouldn’t be a true “Blood And Gutstein” without an old R&B number that will rattle your windowpanes. Behold: “Big Bo’s Iron Horse” from 1962. This has been a longish, searching, raking post, one that expressed despair, and yet, there is much vitality ahead of us, in 2023 and beyond. Let us jump. Let us flounce. It’s hard to know where the manifesto leaves off, and where the supermanifesto begins. Where our hands touch, and where we embrace. Most of all, let us acknowledge the love that’s still around us. Even in sorrow, the love we feel for those we’ve lost will inform the very next love we develop with a new soul, and if that soul is you, my friend, then I want you to know how much I love you, and maybe, in some small way, you can see just where I’m coming from.

discographic information for “Big Bo’s Iron Horse”

Big Bo and the Arrows. Willie “Big Bo” Thomas, Jr. (tenor sax). Other musicians, potentially including organ, bass, drums, guitar, horns: unknown. Gay-Shel Records, 1962, Dallas, Tex. “Big Bo’s Iron Horse” 701A b/w “Hully Gully” 701B.

SELF-QUARANTINED WITH MY ELDERLY PARENTS: A DESPATCH (SIC) FROM CORONAVIRUS LOCKDOWN.

I am with my parents, both of whom are in their eighties. Every morning we hold a mandatory Staff Meeting (pictured above) in the kitchen. We discuss our approach to the day. Mostly, we discuss the ways in which we irritate each other. Truth be told, as Chief of Staff, these meetings are dominated by me describing the many ways that my parents extensively aggravate me. After that, we move on to provisions. I am sent once a week to a local greengrocer, and since I get to—since I’m now encouraged to—wear a blue bandanna around my face, I’m eager to go. I pay my bill, thus I’m hardly a robber; I just look like one. After provisions, we address cleanliness. We agreed to give the twice-monthly cleaning woman a paid leave, which is nice of my parents, except that I have to do all the cleaning! (We live in a medium-sized apartment.) But in lockdown / quarantine, the thing is: chores are good, they organize the day. I’ve also developed cultural awakening routine that I’m emplacing for at least a month, and probably longer. Here are my details, quips, activities, discoveries, notes, suggestions, et cetera, in digest form. Enjoy.

ULTIMATE GOAL

To get my parents through this crisis, healthy. The elderly have a lot to teach us. In no way should they—ever—be sacrificed in the name of Wall Street.

HIGHBROW & POP CULTURE

Current books: I am finishing the second half of W. Somerset Maugham’s collected stories, and the selected stories of Lucia Berlin. Both reads are enjoyable: one is swashbuckling, the other is comedy-amid-tragedy or vice versa.

International Netflix mega-series: Babylon Berlin (lotsa Berlin!) has been the best. Even as it’s more “fantastic” than Peaky Blinders, it’s more believable, and the performance scenes, in particular, are astonishing. Interestingly, the two series are linked by the PTSD symptoms of the main characters, who suffered through mental anguish in World War I. When English rock band The Fall asks “Who Makes the Nazis?” in their album Hex Enduction Hour, well, Babylon Berlin appears to be answering that question.

Domestic mega-series: Better Call Saul. This character-driven series is better—by far—than its leaky predecessor, Breaking Bad. It’s not even debatable.

New rock ‘n’ roll discovery: My friend Casey Smith brought Girl Band, from Dublin, Ireland, to our attention. They’re in the same league as Sleaford Mods, who will be appearing, hopefully, October 1st, in D.C.

Last ten jazz albums: Louis Armstrong, The Great Chicago Concert; Albert Ayler Quartet, The Hilversum Session; Art Blakey & the Jazz Messengers, Meet You at the Jazz Corner of the World, Vol. 1; Anthony Braxton, News from the 70s; John Coltrane, Giant Steps; Miles Davis, Milestones; Walter Davis Jr., Davis Cup; Booker Ervin, The Freedom Book; Charles Earland, Black Talk; Curtis Fuller, Blues-ette.

EXERCISE

Average daily running distance: 5.25 miles.

YouTube abs workout: The tatted guy at “officialthenx.” That workout is brutal, and I resent the tatted guy every day of my life.

YouTube pushups workout: Mike Rashid’s warrior pushups.

YouTube H.I.I.T. workout: “abnormal_beings.”  

Additional exercise: 40 minutes stationary bicycle + extensive burnout with 10 lb. sand dumbbell extravaganza.

Physical exercise summary: Running, cycling, upper body, and H.I.I.T., two to three hours daily.  

Animals I’ve seen while exercising: I’ve developed a cozy relationship with a foxy fox. Otherwise, there has been an increase in raptors: eagles, owls, and hawks. I see dozens of deer each day. I never see the white breasted nuthatch, but I hear it laughing at me, all the time.

Crossword puzzle: New York Times (available online via Arkansas Democrat Gazette.)

My Duolingo language: Francais.

Also: Could we get one sport to come back, with disease-free players housed in isolation, and games played in empty arenas / stadiums? Prem? Baseball? Shinny? The boost from that would be exponential.

DIET, SHOPPING, & SUNDRY ACTIVITIES

Diet: Vegetarian (I’ve earned my three year pin!) Thus far, it has been easy to keep this diet, except for the douchebags who are hoarding cans of black beans as if they were toilet paper. May your hoarding of the former lead you to require even more of the latter!

Great new recipe: Sweet potato vegetarian chili.

Beers on hand: Porters and Stouts. My friend Sausages also gave me a bottle (to be opened soon) of Laphroaig 10 year. I haven’t been drinking much, though. It’s hard to do this all alone. If you want to have a drink—or a coffee—let’s make a virtual date!

T.P. situation: Average. If there’s a gentle increase in pooping, we’ll still be all right.

Shopping strategy: I wear gloves and bandanna mask. I hand sanitize afterwards and wash my hands before unpacking anything. We place perishables in the fridge. (They are washed in cold water before use.) (We may switch to washing in advance.) Everything else is quarantined for three days in a side area, to allow for any surfaces to straighten out. I wash my hands again.

DEEP THOUGHT / LIFE CHANGES

Like many people, I have been examining my life closely. When this crisis ends, and it will end, despite the criminal mishandling of it by the already-impeached White House “leader,” I am going to make significant changes in my life. I will be talking to some of you, Dear Readers, about these changes when the time comes. Likewise, if you have anything monumental to relate in my direction, I’m here. I’ll be here for the foreseeable future. Mostly, be safe and stay healthy. May your loved ones be healthy, too.

QUIP

There should be a movie entitled Quaranteen Wolf, starring Quarantina Turner, directed by Quentin Quarantino.

TOP 7 REACTIONS WHEN COUNTING TO 60 BY UNITS OF 1-MISSISSIPPI.

[1.] Why Mississippi and not another state, country, movement, or debacle?

You got your 1-Arid Desert, 2-Arkansas, 3-Micronesia, 4-Tea Party, 5-Global Warming, 6-Federal Debt, 7-Mississippi, 8-Lewis & Clark’s Route to the Pacific, 9-Colorado River Basin in Crisis, 10-Took a Wooden Nickel, you know? There’s a lot of ways to count, to 60. So OK so.

[2.] Shouldn’t you begin with “Zero-Mississippi”?

It’s not like the Universe began, and it was already 1-Mississippi outside. No, it was less than 1. Headed there, but not yet 1. So, I mean, shouldn’t you go “Zero Mississippi”? What would the world be like, without Mississippi? Delta-less? Delta blues-less? See? It’s more than you think.

[3.] There’s an infinite amount of time between 0 and 60.

Don’t believe me? Divide a half in half. You get half & half. They call it half & half because it comes out of cow that has mixed ethnicity. Whole milk, on the other hand, comes out of a pure-bred cow. They have both types in Mississippi, pure cows and halfies. Lots o’ cows, yep.

[4.] Does anybody ever make it to 60, and if so, who?

I bet that Gandhi counted to 60 a few times, although I doubt that he ever said “Mississippi”. They have a statue of him in Washington, D.C. In the statue, he braces himself with a walking stick and wears a thin wrap. I worry about him when it gets below freezing. He must be mighty cold!

[5.] The 1960s is a distant target.

You could count to the 1960s by year and by Mississippi, so you could go “1900-Mississippi, 1901-Mississippi”, and so forth, but by 1960-Mississippi you’d be too exhausted to enjoy John Coltrane’s music, which transformed so much turmoil into beauty … but I digress.

[6.] What does each unit of 1-Mississippi indicate?

The lightning is 3-Mississippi away. You are 1 Mississippi closer to chasing your friends. In 9-Mississippi the CEO will issue a public statement but will shy away from making an apology. It takes Umpteen-Mississippi to achieve happiness unless you experience Premature-Mississippi.

[7.] Let’s try the Stuff Smith Counting Game in French

One = un. Two = deux. Three = trois, et cetera. So OK so: Un-deux// trois-quatre// cinq-six// uh-huit// neuf-woof. Which is how a lot of French ends, with silliness like neuf-woof. You don’t get silliness when counting via 1-Mississippi. You just never get to 60. But at least you have dignity!

JUMP AROUND: THE 25 GREATEST JUMP BLUES SONGS (+5 EARLY JUMPS) (+5 NOVELTY TUNES) WHICH YOU MUST LISTEN TO BEFORE YOU CAN HAVE A CONVERSATION WITH ME ABOUT MUSIC THAT REALLY ROCKS.

Roy Brown: the greatest jump musician?

In a previous post dedicated to exemplary American musicians, I shied away from determinations of greatness, and opted, instead, to establish importance. It felt sturdier to crown Louis Armstrong as the most important American musician than to propose a greatest American musician, who, in all likelihood, would be John Coltrane. I need not recite the many arguments in favor of Armstrong’s enduring influence on trumpet, cornet, dixieland, swing, gravel-sweet singing, scatting, composition, ensemble playing, band-leading, ambassadorship, typewriting of letters, collaborative recordings, in-public performance, and most substantially, the virtuosity of the soloist. The essence of Armstrong spreads out amongst many players of many instruments. Armstrong informs one generation, and that generation informs a subsequent generation, adding elements of Armstrong, either tacitly or in plain view. “Really?” you say. Even Cypress Hill’s joke about “[hitting] dat bong” the way that “Louis Armstrong played the trumpet” in their 1993 pop hit “Insane in the Brain” demonstrates that the man’s legend appeared generations later, in hip hop and rap. (Louis, too, happened to be fond of weed.) One would have to present a mountainous argument—over many months of intense negotiations—to chip away at one corner of one brick in the Great Wall of this proclamation. Satchmo’s greatness is considerable, too, but he’s probably not the greatest American musician.

As America’s popular music for many decades, jazz underwent numerous transitions. In one change, the central instrumentation in many recordings switched from brass to reed, from trumpet (and perhaps clarinet) to saxophone. Coleman Hawkins, by no means the first jazz saxophone player, nevertheless has been credited as the first jazzman to endow the instrument with significance. Numerous followers—Lester Young, Charlie Parker, and John Coltrane, to name three—would build their own idioms upon this foundation. Coltrane, in particular, can batter a listener to rubble, if we can define “batter” as (Coltrane’s) relentless invention across many forms of voice, and if we can define “rubble” as the shocking moments of (the listener’s) emotional realizations. At the beginning of Coltrane’s career, before he appeared as a sideman on several monumental Miles Davis records—including the Workin’, Steamin’, Cookin’, Relaxin’ series, as well as Milestones and Kind of Blue—he played with rhythm and blues groups in Philadelphia and elsewhere. Lewis Porter’s masterful biography, John Coltrane: His Life and Music, describes R&B gigs in the early to mid-50s with bandleaders such as Johnny Hodges. According to Porter’s book, the Hodges band toured with several rhythm and blues stars, including Billy Eckstine, Ruth Brown, and the Clovers. Benny Golson, a sax player also retained by Hodges, “marveled at the things [he] heard [Coltrane] play” on the tour. Trane famously entertained a number of influences throughout his career but where did this R&B sound originate?

Illinois Jacquet's solo on "Flying Home" inspired other horn players.

At the very least, jump blues began with a variety of groups active in the 1930s, including orchestras led by Jimmie Lunceford, Cab Calloway, and Lucky Millinder. These early songs featured hopping rhythm, rambunctious horns, and increasingly mischievous lyrics. Just as jazz began to adopt the saxophone as its central instrument—to deliver the fleet or searching or muscular work of the soloist—so did jump blues offer rowdy saxophone solos, “jumps” if you will, in the midst of a tune, and oftentimes, woven throughout a piece. Arguably, the most famous early jump saxophone solo belonged to Illinois Jacquet, a sideman at the time with the Lionel Hampton Orchestra. His workout on “Flying Home” in 1942 inspired saxophone players to emulate his honking sound. Indeed, many horn players would dwell in the upper or lower registers of their horns, effecting the kind of chaotic riotousness that drove audiences to crash around and scream. Audience members couldn’t seem to believe what they were hearing; it nourished a need of theirs that they may not have been able to articulate, in advance. I wonder if the musicians ever expressed similar feelings. Jump blues burned brightest from the late 1940s through the mid 1950s. The music would eventually be covered, gentrified, and absorbed by other genres long before Miles Davis affixed the flickering embers of jazz to wailing electric guitar lines in A Tribute to Jack Johnson, and the album’s outtakes, among other jazz-rock material. Still, jump music added shape to rock, R&B, and avant garde saxophone from its wealth of rowdy excess.

White audiences hadn't heard anyone like Big Jay McNeely.

The heroes of jump have nicknames like Tiny, Big Jay, Big Mama, Sugarboy, Mr. Five by Five, Big Joe, Fats, and Bull Moose. They are criminally under-celebrated. Here are, in chronological order by date of recording, 35 greatest hits—25 prime jumps followed by five early numbers and five magnificent novelties:

Eddie Lockjaw Davis: “Ravin’ at the Haven” (1947)

Roy Brown: “Boogie at Midnight” (1949)

Ruth Brown: “Hello Little Boy” (1949)

Freddie Mitchell: “Pony Express” (1949)

Johnny Otis: “Good Ole Blues” (1949)

Wynonie Harris: “Bloodshot Eyes” (1950)

Tiny Bradshaw: “I’m Going to Have Myself a Ball” (1950)

Joe Liggins: “Going Back to New Orleans” (1950)

Roy Milton: “Oh Babe” (1950)

Big Jay McNeely: “Insect Ball” (1951)

Jackie Brenston: “Real Gone Rocket” (1951)

Big Mama Thornton: “Hound Dog” (1952)

James Sugarboy Crawford: “Overboard” (1953)

Jimmy Rushing: “Mr. Five by Five” (1953)

Big Joe Houston: “All Night Long” (1954)

Big Joe Turner: “Shake, Rattle and Roll” (1954)

Bill Haley: “Farewell So Long Goodbye” (1954)

Ray Charles: “I’ve Got a Woman” (1954)

Johnny Sparrow: “Sparrow’s Nest” (1955)

Dave Bartholomew: “Shrimp and Gumbo” (1955)

Amos Milburn: “Chicken Shack Boogie” (1956)

Louis Prima: “Oh Marie” (1956)

Fats Domino: “I’m Walkin’” (1957)

Memphis Slim: “Steppin’ Out” (1959)

Long John Hunter: “Grandma” (1961)

(+5 Early Jumps)

Jimmie Lunceford: “Rhythm Is Our Business” (1934)

Stuff Smith: “Old Joe’s Hittin’ the Jug” (1936)

Cab Calloway: “Do You Want to Jump, Children?” (1938)

Sammy Price: “Monkey Swing” (1939)

Lionel Hampton: “Flying Home” (1942)

(+5 Novelty Tunes)

Louis Jordan: “Caldonia” (1945)

Bull Moose Jackson: “Shorty’s Got to Go” (1945)

Paula Watson: “Hidin’ in the Sticks” (1948)

Lucky Millinder: “Who Said Shorty Wasn’t Coming Back?” (1950)

Big Bob Dougherty: “Bullfrog Hop” (1962)

The great Louis Jordan.

Some may quibble with my placement of Louis Jordan amongst the novelties, but I am as partial to these songs (and Jordan) as to the prime jumps. Jordan, an alto sax player and bandleader, recorded a number of great songs—including “Choo Choo Ch’Boogie”, “Beans and Cornbread”, and “Knock Me a Kiss”—but “Caldonia” is a special song. Other jump songs recorded by other artists refer to the character, Caldonia, who, despite her awkward appearance, inspires the singer, Jordan. He tells the listener that he’s “crazy ‘bout that woman ‘cause Caldonia is her name.” Indeed.