At the time the LP was introduced, nearly all phonograph records for home use were made of an abrasive (and therefore noisy) shellac compound, employed a much larger groove, and played at approximately 78 rpm, limiting the playing time of a 12-inch record to less than five minutes per side.

33 1/3 RPM Long-playing Record

The new product was a 12 or 10-inch fine-grooved disc made of vinyl and played with a smaller-tipped “microgroove” stylus at a speed of 33⅓ rpm. Each side of a 12-inch LP could play for more than 20 minutes. Only the microgroove standard was truly new, as both vinyl and the 33⅓ rpm speed had been used for special purposes for many years, as well as in one unsuccessful earlier attempt to introduce a long-playing record for home use. Although the LP was especially suited to classical music because of its extended continuous playing time, it also allowed a collection of ten or more typical “pop” music recordings to be put on a single disc.

Previously, such collections, as well as longer classical music broken up into several parts, had been sold as sets of 78 rpm records in a specially imprinted “record album” consisting of individual record sleeves bound together in book form. The use of the word “album” persisted for the one-disc LP equivalent.

Abigail Pesta’s piece begins, as most Spalding features do, with the singular nature of her talent and intelligence:

 As a 5-year-old, she began playing in a community band; by the time she was 15, she was the concertmaster for an Oregon youth orchestra, with a scholarship to a private arts high school. At 20, she graduated from the Berklee College of Music in Boston.

Pesta doesn’t mention it, but Spalding was, by age 19, not only a student at Berklee but also on the faculty.

Jazz Talent Esperanza Spalding

The hard-working credential is well-earned, many times over. Beginning in childhood, she learned to play the piano, clarinet and oboe before discovering the stand-up bass in high school. When asked why she now plays bass, almost exclusively, Esperanza says that the instrument “just resonates” with her.

Pesta goes on to highlight the difficult circumstances in which Spalding lived as a child. She grew up in the King neighborhood of Portland, Oregon. Esperanza has described it as “a ghetto” and “pretty scary.” She and her brother were raised by her mother as a single parent. And yet, Pesta tells us:

She downplays her gritty childhood. Growing up poor isn’t a “special” story, she says, but an American one. “Where I’m from is a really mild example. I mean, I’m sure my whole life we were under the poverty line, you know, but I still felt rich. I had a rich upbringing, rich in the sense of a lot of love, a lot of education, nature, music and art, and laughing.” She adds, “It’s not just about the income you make.”

Listen to that last part again, if you will indulge me, because it is the point of today’s visit to the keyboard:

“I had a rich upbringing, rich in the sense of a lot of love, a lot of education, nature, music and art, and laughing.” She adds, “It’s not just about the income you make.”

Esperanza Spalding

Reblogged from The Errant Æsthete:

On May 23, 2008, the protean music man David Foster created a once-in-a-lifetime concert that showcased many of his hits and a few of the stars whose careers Foster launched. The finale was one of those peak moments, the kind I like to re-visit over-and-over.

The song, The Prayer, was composed and written by David Foster and the beautiful, and oh so talented, Carol Bayer Sager. Foster was at the piano, and in command of a magnificent orchestra.

Award-winning songwriter Carol Bayer Sager

Collaborating in a perfect duet were Andrea Bocelli and a young Katharine McPhee. Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard some of the sniffing and griping from a few fat old operatic tenors about Bocelli being more of a popular music singer than a classical singer. Have another cannoli, guys, and let Andrea have room to do his thing. I like it! I love his passion, his joy and his voice.

The pairing with McPhee was wonderful. She is young and beautiful and has terrific set of pipes. She didn’t let herself be intimidated by Bocelli’s reputation, or his voice. She was no trembling rookie on this night. She let it loose and was right there with him, every step of the way, in English and Italian. Well, she was with him until the last 10 seconds on the final note but, c’mon. It is just delightful!

Also, it never hurts to have long-legged, long-haired beauty in the number. You’ll see what I mean.

And you can purchase a CD/DVD combination package of this remarkable concert from the good folks at PBS. Go right here:

Hitman: David Foster & Friends

Kudos are due to the great folks at WordPress for providing a terrific vehicle to let one speak to the whole wide world. If you have ever given any thought to expressing yourself in blog form, I encourage you to check out the great package of services and assistance  provided there.

But, what really surprised us was where the visitors are logging in from. Naturally, most connections originate in the United States, with the United Kingdom and India (both predominantly English-speaking countries and very heavily wired-in) coming in second and third. It was the overall distribution that was a revelation. Over the last seven days, we have logged visitors from thirty-eight (38) different countries.  And I am quite stoked about that.

Any disappointments? Yes, a couple. We would really love to be picked up more in Japan. The Japanese are well-recognized as sincere fans and aficionados of good Jazz. One fine exampleof this is the excellent site Jazz in Japan, edited by Michael Pronko.  Not only does he thoroughly cover the Jazz scene in Japan, but he writes with passion and talent on some surprisingly (for me) provocative subjects, such as Jazz and Zen. This guy has stretched my horizons considerably. Maybe our problem, here, is that thejazzmonger just doesn’t measure up to this kind of material. Michael gives us something to shoot at.

And the Japanese are not just fans. Many important contributors to the genre are from Japan. A case in point is one of my favorires, Gota Yashiki, about whom thejazzmonger wrote lovingly some time ago (Cf: http://wp.me/ppvVJ-al).  thejazzmonger needs to put in some serious thought on how we might appeal to this sophisticated audience, in the future.

Another disappointment is the low showing from Switzerland. I have some family, and a couple of good friends in Switzerland. We bagged one hit for the week. C’mon family!

We draw some encouragement, though, from what we think are pretty good numbers in some other places. Fifty-three hits from India and Pakistan, combined. Twenty from Greece! The Greeks have plenty going on, right now, so we are gratified that a few of them had time to drop by. One hit from the Russian Federation, probably Vladimir Putin, unwinding from another election rout.

WE invite any, and all, visitors to come back often, comment as you see fit and, please, drop us a note via the “Contact Us” link, introduce yourself and let us know where you sign in from.

Here is the chart

The discussion is prompted by the current nominations of Viola Davis and Octavia Spencer for the Best Actress and Best Supporting Actress Oscars, respectively. Should Davis or Spencer win, there will be much discussion of the fact that the first black person (of either sex) to win an Oscar was Hattie McDaniel. She won the  Academy Award in 1939 as Best Supporting Actress for her role as “Mammy” in Gone With the Wind. The issue at hand is that McDaniel, Davis and Spencer are all cited for playing characters who are maids.
Author Janell Hobson writes about the struggles of the extraordinarily beautiful and talented Lena Horne to avoid being recast as an “exotic” (read “Latin”) instead of as a black woman. To her ultimate credit, Horne flatly refused and saw her film career wither.

Beautiful, Supremely Talented - Lena Horne

Hobson discusses “Soundies,” musical performances by singers like Lena Horne and, especially, Big Bands such as the Duke Ellington Orchestra and the Count Basie Orchestra.When Hobson mentions “Soundies” she does it as a link to our story of June, 2009. (Link here: thejazzmonger on “Soundies”)

It is very gratifying to have an eminent publication such as Ms. cite our work.

Turning to the current controversy about film roles, let me say that I think it is a mistake to criticize, or otherwise demean, the roles and excellent performances presented by both Viola Davis and Octavia Spencer. The story told in The Help, book and movie both, is a good one. Their two characters are strong, vividly-drawn and, without doubt, women who are far more than their occupations. We should not be seeking to eliminate the existence of maids in films that depict an earlier time. What we need are stories, scripts and films that give life to people and stories of women who are not maids.

American-made movies have always had a dearth of strong roles for women, all women, really, but for black women, in particular. For a short period in American film history, there was a coterie of dominant actresses (Joan Crawford, Betty Davis, Barbara Stanwyck, Lana Turner) who “carried” films. IT was their name and, often, their name only that was above the title. The entire film was the story of the character, a woman, being portrayed by one of these preeminent actresses.

Consider just a couple of films from these four giants of an earlier era:

Barbara Stanwyck: The Lady Eve  &  Double Indemnity

Betty Davis:  Now, Voyager  &  Dark Victory

Lana Turner:  The Postman Always Rings Twice  &  Imitation of Life

Joan Crawford:  Mildred Pierce  &  The Women

Kren Blixen (aka Isak Denisen)

What happened? Why did great stories and meaty roles disappear, for the most part, from American films? Sure, Meryl Streep is nominated every three or four years, and wins about as often. But too often she is getting the Best Actress nomination for films like Postcards from the Edge, Music of the Heart or The Devil Wears Prada. It was all the way back in 1985, in Out of Africa, that we last saw her stretch in a role that carried the entire film. I f an actress of Meryl Streep’s talent and stature can’t find a truly outstanding role in more than 25 years, what hope does a raft of talented but relatively unknown actresses have?

The problem, my friends, is  the lack of books & scripts about women. Isak Denisen’s book, Out of Africa, was published in 1937. Denisen (real name Karen Blixen) was a marvelous story-teller with a unique and intriguing personal history on which to draw.

One has to think that there are good stories about women, and women’s lives, that are just being passed over by Hollywood brass in favor of cartoon boys, remakes about CIA operatives

and Vampires. Nowadays, when Hollywood does give us a film dominated by females, it’s just a group of women making a female installment (Bridesmaids) of The Hangover.

She is out with a new tune, Black  Gold, in collaboration with another young singer, Algebra Blesset. The song speaks of the importance of young black people being cognizant and proud of their history and heritage. The video for the song (see below) does a wonderful job of emphasizing how African history, particularly its Cultural history, is almost completely ignored in American and European schools. Check it out:

That’s Esperanza on the right, with her hair characteristically brushed out to the max. This girl is as lovely as she is talented and that is saying quite a lot.

Listeners familiar with her stunning 2008 Heads Up International debut, Esperanza, and her best-selling 2010 release Chamber Music Society, were well aware that the young bassist, vocalist and composer from Portland, Oregon was the real deal, with a unique and style-spanning presence, deeply rooted in jazz yet destined to make her mark far beyond the jazz realm. That judgment was confirmed on February 13, 2011, when Spalding became the first jazz musician to receive the GRAMMY® Award for Best New Artist.

Her next album, Radio Music Society, is due out in March, 2012.

The film is a beautifully photographed semi-documentary that focuses on the struggle of a mother lion and her three cubs. I won’t spoil the film by summarizing it here. Take a moment and watch this clip:

Not since March of the Penguins, about which I wrote in an earlier post (see http://thejazzmonger.wordpress.com/2009/08/14/maurice-white-penguins-single-parent-households/) have I seen a nature film of such power and beauty. I can’t recommend it too highly.

And if seeing the film gives you yen to see lions in the wild, shoot me a note. I am helping to organize a couple of groups that Robin will personally escort on tours to some of the finest private game lodges in South Africa. If you can assemble a group of twelve friends for a group trip, we will make your trip complimentary. (That deal is exclusive of your airfare. Get a group of twenty and we will cover the airfare, too).

thejazzmonger

By BlueTwango

Remember the first time you ever heard a live band that grabbed you by the ears and wouldn’t let go? Maybe not for a lifetime. You walked into the theater on a hunch, a tip or just a lucky accident. Then, a musician you’d never met struck a chord that resonated within your soul. Your life as a music listener divided at that moment, into before and after.

For me, that happened one night in Nashville’s War Memorial Auditorium, in the early Seventies. It was one of those apples-and-oranges double bills like Bill Graham put on at his Fillmores, East and West, mixing up the likes of the Dead or Quicksilver with soul singers, folk musicians and straight-ahead Jazz cats.

My big night started out calmly enough, with a mellow set by the Marshall Tucker Band, who more of us will probably remember than admit remembering. With a twang and a flute in 4/4 time, they were perfectly adequate.

Then came something completely different. Five men dressed in white walked to the front of the stage. A tall, thin Englishman asked for a minute of silence. The first thirty seconds of that came for free, as the audience puzzled over the unfamiliar request. But I wasn’t so surprised. This was the home of the city’s symphony orchestra, after all. Every time I’d been there on school field trips, they began by ordering us to be quiet. But this Bubba-studded crowd started to grumble. “Play some music!”, someone demanded. Someone else, in the back, yelled,”Whipping Post!” That broke the tension, a perfectly timed joke lifted from the Allman Bros.’ live album of the time.

Finally, the long minute passed and the Orchestra began to play. The Mahavishnu Orchestra. Rivers of surging electric violin poured from the stage, while a double-necked electric guitar shot lightning bolts at the ceiling. Chiming keyboard notes clattered the chandeliers. A landslide of drums tumbled over the crowd who, caught helplessly in their seats, had no chance to resist.

The world hadn’t known such a juggernaut as John McLaughlin’s breakthrough instrumental ensemble. Like no band before and few bands since, it mixed classical complexity with Jazz audacity, delivered with the amplified power of arena rock. Although a commercial success, Mahavishnu was dismissed by generations of critics under the dreaded label of “fusion.” Much of their music is unendurable to me now, but at the time, the wonder was that there could be such music at all. So wild, but so controlled, so committed, so composed, so free. I’d never heard their records, and the music certainly wasn’t played on the local Top 40 stations. This was the very first Jazz I’d heard, except in some passing, lo-fi soundtrack. And I’d walked in expecting some guy to sit on a cushion and play sitar, or something.

Virgin ears — that’s what I brought to that concert, and it was part of the magic. I’ve tried to recreate that feeling, but as every ex-virgin knows, it’s a bit more difficult now. But the challenge has come, and I’m doing my best to meet it.

Every day, I say this little affirmation to myself: “I will not listen to the new Pat Metheny album.” Not yet. And don’t think about an elephant, either, that’s about as hard. For I’ve followed Metheny like a sunflower follows the light, ever since he emerged as a more melodic, less frenetic master of his own post-fusion school of eclectic, adventurous jazz. Now he’s debuted a new project, the Orchestrion. Rumor has it as a remotely-controlled array of acoustic instruments forming a backup band, inspired by the mechanical orchestral music machines that were briefly popular a century ago. I imagine a steam calliope that brought all its friends along to play, with the Mighty Oz standing behind the curtain in a striped shirt.

Every other “Metheny-ac” already knows how this contraption looks and sounds. The record is on the shelves, the downloads are streaming and Pat’s own board is bubbling with ecstatic reviews. Emphatic adjectives abound, such as “epic” and “amazingly complex.” One fan writes, ”I gotta say, for a bunch of solenoids, it swings pretty hard in places.”

Me, I’m keeping cotton in my ears until the Orchestrion Tour arrives locally, on May 5. Only three (ouch) months (damn) away (no!).

Am I crazy? Am I denying myself sure pleasure now, in exchange for future delight? Maybe I’d enjoy the live performance better if I was familiar with the music, the better to follow the flow. I dunno– I don’t even know if I can keep my curiosity in the bag for that long.

”Jazz is the music of surprise,” said Duke Ellington. Should be, anyhow. I’ve grouched about other musical efforts that didn’t bother to try stretching envelopes — including Pat’s recent string of Trio records. Now, the most inventive Jazz guitarist since Les Paul has been tinkering again. I can’t wait to hear what he’s come up with. But I will wait… until I can see it for myself.

Has anyone else ever faced this dilemma? My best advice is to avoid it. Instead, check out http://www.patmetheny.com for the whole scoop. If you like what you hear, do me a favor and don’t tell me too much about it. But do yourself a favor,too.There might still be a seat available when the Orchestrion visits your town.

Note from thejazzmonger – See Bluetwango’s earlier post at: http://thejazzmonger.wordpress.com/2009/08/27/pat-metheny-fusion-guitarists-genre-purity/

bluetwango

So the experiment taught us something, and that is a good thing. Back to business. Thanks to those who sent us a note. We really appreciate it.

thejazzmonger