The Free-Lance Pallbearers

Although far from being my favorite of Ishmael Reed's novels, The Free-Lance Pallbearers packs quite a punch. A satirical work on the US and race relations, it's most similar to The Terrible Twos rather than some of his novels that are closer chronologically to this work, though hoodoo's prominence ties it with Reed's neo-Hoodoo aesthetic of his early novels. Considering its publication in the 1960s, the novel is a play on race and the protagonist, Bukka Doopeyduk, transitions from believing in the despotic dictatorship of HARRY Sam to playing a pivotal role in overthrowing it. While reading this, the novel that came to mind was Harry Sonny Ladoo's Yesterdays, which shares an obsession with excrement as symbolic of the society. Anyway, this is not Reed's funniest piece of satire, but important for understanding his development as a novelist willing to take risks. 

And Sometimes I Wonder About You

Walter Mosley's Leonid McGill mystery novel is a fast-paced thriller guaranteed to entertain. Action, eros, suspense, and likable usual characters who populate Leonid McGill's adventures pop up here to great effect. There are even references to Black Lives Matter and the killing of Eric Garner. Nonetheless, like the entertaining Rose Gold, I am not sure the plot here was as successful. The recurring theme or organizing structure in this work appears to function in triads along the following lines: generational, romantic, and criminal cases. There are three main criminals, and the most menacing of all is the least convincing and barely a part of the narrative. The three women Leonid involves himself with represent distinct paths: Marella as lust, Aura as love, and Katrina, his wife, as stability. There are three generational dynamics: Leonid's father is trying to become a part of his son's life, Leonid is trying to keep an eye on his favorite son, Twill, and Leonid's father becomes a grandfatherly figure interacting positively with the family. This is fine and dandy, but the plot suffers from not developing what could have potentially become the most interesting villain, Jones. In spite of these quibbles, the novel is a fun read as one comes to expect from Mosley.

Howards End

I only know Foster's classic through Zadie Smith's On Beauty, but I felt it was necessary to read Howards End. After reading Forster's "The Machine Stops," my interest in Forster only grew. However, Howards End is achingly slow, albeit quite philosophical, and perhaps is too optimistic about the future of English class relations and a synthesis of the English practical character and German idealism. Nonetheless, it is rewarding to see where Smith's fascinating novel comes from, despite their radical differences in setting and the racial themes of Smith's work. However, Foster, in his own way, was quite critical of Empire and the ascendant commercial classes, which leaves him relevant to posterity, though the characaters of Howards End are by no means radicals. It's a shame that such an optimistic novel of the future would be broken by World War I and renewed German-British conflict. For the urban/rural character of the novel (London versus the provinces) and the hybrid German-English protagonist, Margaret, one sees how this novel influenced Zadie Smith.

Hot House...Live

Still on a Eric Dolphy kick these days. There's truly no one else who has such a unique voice in bop that amazingly bridges the gap between traditional and the "new thing." Dolphy's angular solo here is only a portent of things to come with Out to Lunch! in 1964.

Booker's Waltz

Listening to Eric Dolphy for the first time in a few months. I forgot about his brilliance on the Five Spot recordings from 1961. Ed Blackwell and Mal Waldron are unforgettably splendid here, although the inimitable sounds of Dolphy are the highlight. There has never been and never shall be another Eric Dolphy.

Naipaul at Dhaka

VS Naipaul discusses his life and being a writer in this precious segment from the Dhaka Lit Fest 2016. Naipaul's point about anxiety and the desire to become that lovely thing, a writer, hits home. Lady Naipaul's story about the manuscript for A House for Mr. Biswas being left on the kitchen table while Vidia went on vacation adds a nice personal touch. One would also love to hear more about Augustus, Naipaul's adored cat.

My Bones and My Flute

Mittelholzer's My Bone and My Flute is a well-written horror story that successfully transfers the reader back to Guyana in the 1930s. The narrator, Milton, bears an uncanny resemblance to Mittelholzer himself, and despite the dark themes and frightening suspense, there are moments when one cannot help but giggle because of the self-deprecating or absurd and self-referential references either made by Milton himself or some of the other characters. As for the horror genre within Caribbean literature, Mittelholzer is the main one who comes to mind for me, although Mayra Montero and a certain novel by the Marcelin brothers from Haiti also employ similar motifs and culturally or historically specific reference points for their mysteries. Mittelholzer did a better job with the genre than the Haitian brothers because his story is solidly within the confines of horror and does not take itself too seriously while The Beast of the Haitian Hills was all over the place. Both stories, to their credit, contain much of social import and reflect upon the rural-urban divides within both Guyana and Haiti (not to mention class and color) with some suggested morals for the reader. Much like Haiti, the slave revolutions of the past, really history in general, is never forgotten. 

Moses Ascending

Sam Selvon's Moses Ascending is not what one expects from a sequel of sorts to Lonely Londoners. Like Pressure, a film Selvon co-wrote, the novel addresses Black Power and race and gender in a 1970s London setting. Unlike the film, however, this novel, save Brenda, a young woman born in London and devoted to the Party, Selvon's novel does not try to understand the appeal of Black Power to Black Britons born in the Mother Country. To his credit, Selvon's carnivalesque commentary on race and gender includes Indian and Pakistani immigrants (including trafficking in illegal immigrants) along with some Selvonian wit for great laughs, but it was much more difficult to relate to the characters here, not to mention Moses's unsuccessful attempts at finding some peace, whether as a writer, friend, or lover, or community. 

Interestingly, the rather temporal nature of the setting (Moses's building is slated to be demolished at some point in the future) may foreshadow Moses's return to Trinidad in the final part of the trilogy. Indeed, at multiple occasions throughout the novel, Moses longs for sweet memories of Trinidad, for the trees of his home, and will have to make some changes at some point once the Shepherd's Bush home is destroyed and he can no longer profit as a landlord (in this world, a black man in London cannot live like a 'lord' for too long). The black nationalism, subverted Caliban-Friday relationship with Bob (also a 'migrant'), and challenging times of white racism, growing xenophobia, as well as some of the rather problematic assumptions and biases of Selvon regarding black nationalism or the role of literature in social struggle provide interesting themes, but not in the engaging or direct sense of Moses's first adventure.

A Morning at the Office

Edgar Mittelholzer's social realist novel set in a Port of Spain office in a Trinidad on the cusp of social change offers some useful insights on Trinidadian society and the author's own views on race, class, gender, sexuality, identity, and the human condition. Incorporating himself into A Morning at the Office and "telescopic objectivity," Mittelholzer's novel uses an inventive narrative framework to tie the racially diverse employees of the company into broader trends in Trinidadian society, not to mention objects that trigger memories and futures for the characters while reaffirming the objectification of individuals by their racial, gender, sexual, and class positions. Furthermore, Mittelholzer positions himself in opposition to some of the burgeoning forms of "faddist" nationalism that was evolving in Trinidad and the rest of the British West Indies at the time. Instead of valorizing Caribbean folklore or traditions from the plantation and African past, Arthur, a character presumably representing Mittelholzer as much as Mortimer Barnett, argues for an essentially Western orientation of the West Indian, a sentiment often expressed in his With a Carib Eye. 

But the real emphasis in A Morning at the Office concerns the multiple layers of social stratification in Trinidad and its "caste-like" system of subjugation. Of course, the order so adeptly described and satirized here (not to mention in the works of V.S. Naipaul or the tragicomic moments in Shiva Naipaul's work) is in flux because of growing anti-colonial sentiment, the labor movement, and black and Indian social mobility, but it is seen through the eyes of Portuguese, Spanish, English, black working-class, coloured middle-classes and gendered perspectives in the office of a company that is tied to larger themes of economics and labor in late colonial Trinidad. Each character broadly represents their social groups and the various nuances of the racial categories thrust upon them. And each character is haunted by something they cannot, for reasons of respectability, status, or happiness, attain. Each character likewise must confront their own class and racial biases in the office, with the top positions always given to whites while mixed-race members of the professional and political strata continue to look down on Indians and blacks who in turn have their own nuances (such as the wealthy creolized family of Miss Bisnauth versus the poor Jagabir who is never allowed to forget his origins on the sugar cane estates). 

For Horace Xavier, the poor black office boy hopelessly in love with the mixed-race Miss Hinckson from a respectable and influential family, his ambitious plans for the future, intelligence, and large-scale changes in Trinidadian society in the 1940s and 1950s will only propel him while the others must make sense of their different predicaments that block the road to happiness. For some, it is a question of interracial romance or forbidden love that is unacceptable to their families or society. In the case of others, it is thwarted hopes of success in writing, children, social climbing, or, as in the case of some English living in Trinidad, returning to Europe due to racism against the local population or a feeling of disdain and disgust at how white skin rewards mediocrity in a colonial context. Mittelholzer, with great humor and compassion, explores the minds of each of these characters during a few hours at the office and as much as the racialized class system appears rigid, the assertion of Horace, the career steps of Jagabir, or the promise of West Indian literature as exemplified in Barnett foreshadow the changes in Trinidadian social relations to come. 

Calypso Sketches

A personal favorite from one of the greats of 1960s UK jazz. Jamaican-born Joe Harriott was something like the Ornette Coleman across the pond who arrived at similar 'freedoms' in jazz simultaneously. Although not as 'out there' as Coleman, musicians like Harriott or the numerous South African jazz musicians working in the UK since the 1960s added some much needed spice and to British jazz. Sure, it's not "St. Thomas," but the frantic drumming is reminiscent of Max Roach. 

The End of the Affair

Graham Greene's The End of the Affair is Catholic guilt somersaults for a lapse Catholic reader. Much like his novels set in more exotic locales, infidelity, guilt, love, relationships, and events of a more momentous impact such as World War II figure prominently, but this is perhaps, the most intimate account of doomed lovers struggling with love, faith, and morality in a bourgeois setting, with both God's love (agape) and human interpersonal notions of love battling it out. Although I prefer Greene's non-Britain settings, it was refreshing to see his somewhat expected character types in London during the War as the backdrop for a conflict of epic scale (God's existence, what does it mean to love another person or experience the love of God) just as the humor and autobiographical elements of the novel reveal more of Greene's comic sensibilities and willingness to perhaps mock himself however lightly. Even someone writing about romance and the search for human connection knew how to use humor effectively in this carefully and richly worded novel, imbued with so much meaning that even some of the superstitious Catholic 'miracle' hints can be forgiven. 

The Hitchhiker's Guide To the Galaxy

Douglas Adams is one of those interesting science fiction writers I've only recently come to know. Despite listening to a few episodes of the radio series and watching some of the 1980s TV series, Adams and his approach to science fiction comedy was mostly unknown. However, after reading the first in the trilogy of five novels and nearly done with the second book, one can see his appeal. Adams is a master of absurd and, to me at least, deliberately somewhat poor writing for the absurdist universe he crafted. The second novel, Restaurant At the End of the Universe, excels with its existential and time travel humor. Highly recommend.

Saint Louis Blues Louis Style

A definitive take on W.C. Handy's classic, "Saint Louis Blues." Handy's use of the habanera rhythm illustrates how "Latin" music has been part of the jazz repertoire for over 100 years, and part of the reason why I annoyed by the ways in which some define "Latin Jazz" as a genre or sub-genre of jazz. Moreover, Armstrong's honking orchestra did in the 1920s what came to define early R&B so well with artists like Louis Jordan.

Mona Lisa Overdrive

Mona Lisa Overdrive is perhaps the least successful of the Sprawl trilogy. Combining the framework of Count Zero with some of the opaque prose of Neuromancer, this novel feels more disjointed or jarring, although Gibson leaving the most intriguing aspect of the matrix for the final pages aligns so well with some of the religious themes of the novel, especially the paradigm of the matrix and Vodou. Nonetheless, one should be glad Gibson included Japanese characters of importance here, mainly Kumiko, since Japan and Japanese ideas are central to his vision. Furthermore, the reader is treated to more of the Sprawl, London in this unusual setting, and New Jersey and Florida. The bleak conditions and unequal society depicted are quite harrowing, but fit perfectly with the previous two novels in establishing Gibson's world. Moreover, the return of Molly makes this required reading, albeit less victorious than Neuromancer. Nothing is as it seems, and perhaps one will never know the first causes. 

Count Zero

Well, Count Zero is certainly a very different novel and not what I expected to be a follow-up to the famous Neuromancer. Unlike his famous first novel, Count Zero's prose is less Burroughs and more conventional while switching back and forth between three characters in each chapter until their stories intersect. While this makes the novel easier reading material, some of the magic and zany-ness of the first novel, set almost a decade before the events that transpire in Count Zero, is lost. Nonetheless, Gibson tackles in an interesting and postmodern way the consequences of AI becoming sentient and interacting with us in ways more aligned with Vodou and non-Western religions. Indeed, that is precisely the most interesting thing about this global dystopic future of zaibatsu domination and wealthy elites, becoming less human with each passing day, it seems, fighting for control of biochip innovations and power while changes in the Cyberspace resemble more and more Haitian Vodou possession and the intercession of powerful lwa.

In this regard, it is also interesting to note the much larger role played by black characters in this novel, African-Americans from the Projects of a New Jersey suburb, as their understanding of sentient fractures of the fusion of Wintermute and Neuromancer makes perfect sense within a Vodou worldview. Although sometimes reduced to stereotypical lines, specifically Jackie and Beauvoir, I found Beauvoir (perhaps a name inspired by the illustrious Haitian of that same name?) intelligent and his definition of Vodou as getting stuff done useful (paging Prothero?). And despite the skepticism and condescending remarks from various cowboys, observers, and dealers, the conceptual field of perception of the Vodouizan and their Haitian Creole speech and memory of mapou trees and possession, makes just as much sense as Marly's confrontation with the boxmaker (Gran Met). Indeed, perhaps that is the one of the powerful lessons of Count Zero regarding technological progress and innovation: the differences between the past traditions and advances in cybernetics are not so much linear but an entwined series of roots and routes. 

After discussing this novel via email with a relative, I think they are correct about this largely acting as a pot-boiler work in the so-called Sprawl Trilogy, with Gibson's use of Vodou, Rastafarians in Neuromancer and Japanese themes throughout the series as instrumental, conceptually and metaphorically, while also being post-modern and traditional simultaneously, as the Joseph Cornell-like boxes indicate. It would be an intriguing project to look at Gibson's Sprawl Trilogy in comparison with the neo-hoodoo novels of Ishmael Reed (and Japanese By Spring), Dany Laferriere's Japan-inspired novels that also feature Haitian and Japanese themes in conjunction, and some of the interesting research on mathematics and the sciences in African, Haitian, Rastafarian, or Santeria religions. Perhaps bones, charms, and computers have more in common than we realize? 

Bill Evans on Scott LaFaro

 

Enjoy a fascinating interview with Bill Evans about Scott LaFaro. LaFaro was the perfect bassist to accompany Bill Evans, no offense directed to Eddie Gomez.  Scott was melodic, intuitive, independent-minded, and perhaps my favorite jazz bassist in a trio context. As Evans says in this interview, it's difficult to explain LaFaro's playing, but one must experience the "ride."

Neuromancer

William Gibson's Neuromancer is the kind of science fiction novel one could easily revisit on an annual basis. Like William S. Burroughs, the prose is a tad challenging, but like Philip K. Dick, Gibson is full of creative ideas and interesting theories on technology, mainly cyberspace, advances in artificial intelligence, and dystopic settings. Gibson, unlike Dick, actually has stronger female characters, mainly in Molly, and even throws in a Rastafarian space colony later in the novel, perhaps inspired by Dick and Nelson's influence from the Nation of Islam? Nor can one ignore the importance of dark and dangerous multinational corporations, bringing to mind an idea I've heard regarding Japan's contributions to the rise of corporations while also falling into some phildickian themes. Anyone looking for thought-provoking science fiction on film-like urban landscapes, metaphysics, technology, action-packed heists, and some perhaps accurate state of the world in the near future should read this. 

Brunner on SF

John Brunner's comments on SF and its relationship with "real" literature are interesting, perceptive, and thought-provoking. Brunner's commentary on the "science fiction ghetto" brings to mind Philip K. Dick, LeGuin, and Disch who also tackled the stigma of being science fiction writers who valiantly improved the literary and artistic style of SF. As Brunner says, we should not be surprised then by Vonnegut's science fiction elements in Slaughterhouse Five or the science fiction-y gadgets of the Bond series. The distinctions between the "ghetto" and other forms or styles of literature have perhaps even blurred more with the passage of time.

RIP Bobby Hutcherson

Rest in peace, Bobby Hutcherson. Hutcherson is by far my favorite jazz vibraphonist and his ability to bring together or collaborate with many other unique and talented instrumentalists in jazz is a delight. Whether it was Andrew Hill, Grachan Moncur III, or even Eric Dolphy, Hutcherson could keep up with the best. Thank you, Bobby Hutcherson.

Rose Gold

Walter Mosley's Rose Gold received an astonishingly accurate review in the Los Angeles Times. It's satisfactory, draws the reader into LA's various social classes and geography, and is always entertaining and keeps one on one's toes. That said, the novel was uneven and not as well-written or interesting as the earlier Easy Rawlins novels. Despite naming the novel after the missing Patty Hearst-like character behind Easy's case, Rosemary remains largely unknown and we barely hear her in her own voice. The same could be said about the radical group that "abducted" Rosemary, who are not anywhere near interesting like previous cases Rawlins took involving radicals (A Red Death). In addition, this novel could have cut maybe 20 or 30 pages by removing some probably superfluous sub-plots or minor cases Easy takes on the side. If it is unclear what I am alluding to, I am referring specifically to the Percy Bidwell problem and the issue regarding a white mother and her black baby, but at least the latter was relevant to the central case in a small way. Nevertheless, Mosley is a master of the trade and never fails to write addictive entertainment and interesting social commentary.

You Do Something to Me from The Bridge

Sonny Rollins is a mater of melody, perhaps even surpassing Ella Fitzgerald's masterful singing of this Cole Porter-penned standard. As for Jim Hall's guitar solo, I could take it or leave, but Rollins is phenomenal here. Rollins always was a the saxophone colossus when it comes to gentle swinging numbers or ballads. 

Carlin on Charlie Rose

Enjoy an interesting and too brief interview from 1996. George Carlin is one of American comedy's greats, and here he articulates some rather fascinating influences and how his comedy shifted in the 1990s and 2000s. While one may take issue with his detachment from the outcome of our current 'experiment,' Carlin's probably right in how he traces the roots of comedians and attests to their importance.

Armando's Rhumba

 

 A personal favorite from Chick Corea's Latin-inspired album, My Spanish Heart. Jean-Luc Ponty's violin playing is spectacular and brings to mind some of the best Cuban music.

1984

Chomsky on Democracy Now! discussing Orwell 

I am ashamed to admit I only recently read Orwell's famous novel, 1984. Now, after finally finishing it, one can see how so much of the science fiction literature and film after Orwell's masterpiece are so clearly influenced by Orwell's keen understanding of totalitarianism and the recent horrors of the Second World War. Orwell's inventive use of language, interest in metaphysics, constant allusions to mental health and more bring to mind the works of Philip K. Dick (mainly Flow My Tears) and even some of the most prominent intellectuals and writers who so often reference Orwell or his ideas in their work on politics, US foreign policy, or more. Although I think Aldous Huxley is probably right about future totalitarianism requiring more subtle and unique forms of social control than what Orwell conceived for 1984, Orwell's quite nuanced and wrote a better novel than Huxley's classic, and in turn surpassed his earlier Animal Farm, an enjoyable parable I read in middle school. 

Hitchens on Orwell

Enjoy this fascinating lecture by Christopher Hitchens on Orwell. I am currently reading 1984 and found this enlightening and pertinent. 

Huxley at Berkeley

I was listening to this a few weeks ago and just decided to revisit it. Huxley's prophetic words about the War on Terror are particularly relevant. 

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

My favorite singer of a beautiful song written by Jerome Kern and Otto Harbach. I love The Platters, but this and the rendition of "Smoke" from Naipaul's interview on BBC's Desert Island series are my top recordings of this classic. Kern always wrote the most lasting standards. 

Rahsaan Roland Kirk

Happy birthday, Rahsaan Roland Kirk. He left us in 1977 and remains an elusive figure for my jazz explorations. Nevertheless, Kirk was a talented multi-instrumentalist who celebrated black history in his music, making him worthwhile. His work on Mingus's Oh Yeah is worth a listen, too. 

Remembering Abbey Lincoln

Today is Abbey Lincoln's birthday. She passed in 2010, but I only learned about her music in the last few years. Lincoln's certainly one of the most distinctive and talented jazz vocalists in the genre's history, and deserves to be mentioned up there with Billie, Ella, Sarah, and Dinah. She was even in my favorite Spike Lee film, Mo' Betta Blues. Her take on "Lonely House" is definitive. 

Stompin' At The Savoy

I was listening to live recordings of Benny Goodman's group from 1938 and came across their take on "Stompin' at the Savoy." Goodman is great, but Max Roach's lyrical drum solo on the 1954 recording with Clifford Brown is unforgettable. Roach is undeniably one of my favorite jazz percussionists, and moments like this illustrate how bop and post-bop freed the drummer from the restraints they had to deal with during the swing phase of the 1930s and early 1940s. Roach's lyrical side as a soloist is a treat on Saxophone Colossus and Monk's Brilliant Corners, too. Perhaps Roach's M'Boom phase is next on my list for jazz to devour. More drummers could use Roach's sense of melodicism.

Said on The Clash of Civilizations

Edward Said articulates the many, many problems of Huntington's famous (or infamous?) book. I was just perusing Huntington's work and shocked by some of the appalling lack of nuance and detail or just vast generalizations he made. For instance, the brief mentions of Haiti emphasize it as some aberration that is a lone civilization or culture, one that is not perceived by Latin Americans as part of the region and seen as bizarre or different from the lens of Anglophone Caribbean peoples. When making these statements, Huntington relies on the words of a Panamanian politician and one quoted Afro-Caribbean. One would think more nuance and evidence would be buttressed by Huntington, akin to his more careful attention to modern Japan, but I guess Haiti does not merit the additional scrutiny. With people like Huntington as an intellectual influence in the Bush administration, one can see why the 2004 coup took the shape it did.

Death of the Liberal Class

I don't agree with everything Chris Hedges has to say, but I think his prescient words on the liberal class are especially relevant to 2016 and the political quagmire we face today. I perused the book in which this talk is based on and find much of it often accurate, especially as regards the liberal establishment in media, politics, and elsewhere's complicity in the service of power. Hedges is one of the best at articulating complex ideas of Chomsky, Wolin and others for thought-provoking and insightful analysis, and much of it strikes me as particularly pertinent to the Democratic party in 2016. 

Waltz For Debby

My favorite song by Bill Evans with one of my favorite alto saxophonists. Adderley's soulful sound surprisingly works quite well with the introspective style of Bill Evans. Hearing their collaboration brings back some of the best moments of Kind of Blue. 

Political Economy of Mass Media

A fascinating 1989 talk by Chomsky in Madison, WI. Chomsky discusses the manufacturing of consent and relates it to the American interventions in Central America during the 1980s. Fascinating stuff and very thought-provoking, as one would expect from Chomsky. I saw him speak in 2010 and find this 1989 talk more humorous and intriguing than the award ceremony I attended.  Moreover, Chomsky's sense of humor was present in the earlier lectures than what I saw, although I am naturally glad I had an opportunity to see him speak.

Paniots Nine

A personal favorite from a jazz musician I am still only beginning to learn about. Thanks to American Splendor, I was introduced to Maneri and his own unique avant-garde style. Maneri's style here hints at Middle Eastern or Asian influences, perhaps reflecting his Brooklyn roots in Williamsburg and its klezmer musicians?

Dr. Bloodmoney, or How We Got Along After the Bomb

Philip K. Dick's Dr. Bloodmoney, or How We Got Along After the Bomb has all the characteristics one usually finds in Dick's writing: unstable worlds, blurred distinction between reality and unreality, "average Joe" type central characters or protagonists, Christianity and religious overtones (Christ-like and God-like beings, allusions to reincarnation and Eastern religions), marital strife, dystopic settings, and, in this case, a somewhat jarring read which shifts seven years in time quite rapidly, similar to problems in Lies, Inc. That said, the novel is a fun take on post-nuclear apocalypse life, uses the Northern California setting very well, and manages to tell the tale through multiple points of view quite seamlessly. Like Androids, animals feature quite prominently as the mutations wrought by nuclear war caused some of them to evolve in increasingly intelligent ways, just as "funny" people, or humans with mutations caused by radiation, also play a prominent role in this novel, especially regarding abilities like the precogs of other Dick novels (and, strangely, magic). 

Although certain important points in the novel remain unexplained, such as Dr. Bluthgeld's belief in his god-like power actually causing nuclear war again, after his horrific mistake in 1972 already changed the face of the world, or precisely how the structure of the US economy works after society's collapse, but the point of much of Dick's novels is the thrill of the ride. Indeed, Dangerfield, trapped in a satellite orbiting Earth for several years, becomes a Christ-like figure communicating via radio transmissions while humanity rebuilds itself in a fundamentally altered world. Indeed, memories of Three Stigmata, Radio Free Albemuth and The Divine Invasion were a consistent part of reading this novel, even though the overt Christian and Jewish allegorical content of those later novels is far less pronounced here, despite some equivalent symbolism of the Demiurge and Savior-like beings, not to mention shepherds, communal living as represented by Hardy's small homeostatic vermin trap company in Berkeley at the novel's conclusion. 

Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of this novel is the importance of Stuart, an African-American with a Master's degree who, in the beginning of the novel, works in a Bay Area TV store. Stuart faces racial hostility and, when not around, racist jokes from the white characters in the novel, but is depicted in a very human and (mostly) unbiased way. Stuart, despite coming from an oppressed background, despises Hoppy, who has phocomelia, and all other "freaks" and "funny" people, but has an enduring spirit and enthusiasm for life even as the Bay Area is struck by nuclear bombs and society collapses, even growing to love some of the "unnatural" results of the bomb. Stuart is one of many central characters, but his rise and tenacity for life is admirable and reminiscent of, to me at least, some of the characters in Camus's The Plague. Other novels by PKD featuring black characters were not always as nuanced, although references to the Civil Rights Movement and discrimination against "funny" people and those mutated or darkened by nuclear war's consequences are most definitely allusions to the ongoing struggle in the US during 1965, the year this novel was published. 

What is most memorable from this novel is the optimistic but realistic ending. In spite of the death of the majority of humanity and the loss of much of the advanced technology that characterized 20th century life, roads are being rebuilt, mail services reestablished, and other key plot points in the novel show a way forward for humanity if such a calamity were to occur. Redemption and selflessness are key to this path forward, and it is a theme that will reappear in Dick's more overt Christian-inspired novels. 

Country Town Blues

Powerful example of Ornette Coleman's mastery of the blues, also featuring Charlie Haden's thick basslines and powerful foundation for Ornette and Don. Beautiful music although not "Ramblin", and proof that Ornette never left behind the blues. Haden's brief solo hints at some other composition by Ornette or a standard but I can't recall which song he's alluding to...

Kwame Anthony Appiah

Kwame Anthony Appiah is one of those interesting scholars and philosophers I have heard much of and has definitely shaped the works of others I have read. I finally perused In My Father's House and listened to some of his interviews and lectures online, which are fascinating but also occasionally problematic. Nonetheless, Appiah has an interesting personal story and makes some thought-provoking points here. 

Peep Show

The stars and some of the writers of Peep Show discuss the show, the writing process, stories, and more. Peep Show is my favorite British comedy series, perhaps because of the socially awkward and post-university settings of the two flatmates, the travails of urban life and masculinity in turbulent times. Much like Community and Fresh Meat, two comedies that helped define my university life, Peep Show was the perfect comedic accompaniment to life for those in their 20s or early 30s. I will sorely miss this program. 

But Not For Me

A favorite standard of mine done right by Sonny Rollins and Miles Davis. Infinitely better than Chet Baker's take, although I do like Baker's vocals. Now, an ideal combination would have been Miles and his band backing Baker singing the best standards. 

Sometimes I'm Happy

A personal favorite from Sun Ra's Nuclear War. June Tyson was a better singer than we give her credit for. She has this unusual wail-like quality in her singing which makes it perfect for accompaniment from Sun Ra's Arkestra. 

An Interesting Conversation

A fascinating conversation with Robin D.G. Kelley on a variety of topics, including academia, the value of the humanities, neoliberalism, and race.

Cole Porter's Smiling From Heaven

Just made the cut as my favorite rendition of Cole Porter's "All of You" is a live performance in Paris from MIles Davis and John Coltrane. Although I was always drawn to recordings form his later quintet with Wayne Shorter's bluesy solos, Coltrane is majestic here with his sheets of sound. Coltrane's unique sound reminds one of Dolphy's transitional work before he blossomed, and one detects the same transitional phase in Coltrane as his improvisational skills and composing pushed him toward the revolutions he was soon about to make. 

Billie Holiday: The Musician and the Myth

John Szwed's Billie Holiday: The Musician and the Myth should be required reading for anyone interested in Billie Holiday. Not only does it function very well as a succinct and useful introduction and explanation of her music and influences, Szwed avoids the path of other biographers who focused on the sensationalism surrounding her personal life and difficulties she faced. Moreover, as an established jazz biographer who impressed me with his stunning (and serious) look at Sun Ra, Szwed is clearly familiar with jazz, its history, and the social context which produced Billie Holiday in a way that one does not often find in others. For example, Angela Davis, whose excellent black feminist look at Billie Holiday is also worthwhile, should not have tried to fit or categorize Holiday into the blues woman category, but someone like Szwed properly places her in a separate "category" as a jazz musician who brought a blues sensibility to torch songs and standards. In a sense, Davis is right about Billie Holiday recognizing herself as someone influenced by Bessie Smith and the blues, but as Szwed argues, she is just as much influenced by Louis Armstrong, Ethel Waters, earlier women singers from the minstrel era, and her own innovative approach to jazz. For a book under 200 pages, there is a depth of commentary and explication on Holiday's life and art that is surely rare to come across. I have not not read a similarly great work on a jazz musician since Kelley's biography of Monk or Mercer's biography of Wayne Shorter. 

Wayne Shorter: Philosophy of Life Through Jazz

Wayne Shorter is undoubtedly a jazz legend whose lofty reputation is entirely deserved. Shorter, a product of an African-American working-class family from Newark, has always interested me as a composer and innovative saxophonist in the jazz idiom. Moreover, I still appreciate his early interest in Brazilian and fusion styles, although Weather Report was kinda ruined by Zawinul and his gimmicky sounds effect-like approach to the band. Anyway, I think we often forget the intellectual and philosophical thought of jazz musicians, so it's brilliant to hear Shorter speak so candidly about a variety of topics, including literature, science, science fiction and politics. I believe his brother, Alan Shorter, was similarly interested in philosophy and even wrote about it, but good luck trying to locate his brother's words.

The Neoliberal City

The always informative David Harvey speaking on neoliberalism and the city. This brings back memories of Adolph Reed and Frances Fox Piven's similar approach to the neoliberal city and the transition from the industrial city. 

Chief Crazy Horse

A personal favorite from one of Wayne Shorter's most consistent Blue Note releases. "Chief Crazy Horse" features Joe Chambers on drums and is obviously inspired by the eponymous Native American leader. Much like Shorter's other compositions with "exotic" overtones, the drumming of Chambers plays with polyrhythms like Elvin Jones on Shorter's "Juju" but Shorter's solo sounds like some approximation of a sun dance. Beautiful. 

Kureishi's Last Word

"Literature was a killing field; no decent person ever picked up a pen." 

Hanif Kureishi's postmodern novel, ostensibly based on Patrick French's biography of V.S. Naipaul, is a worthwhile read for all devotees of Naipaul. However, those expecting Mamoon and his biographer, Harry, to overwhelmingly resemble their "real-life" inspiration, will be a little disappointed. What is fascinating about Kureishi's novel is how he suspends judgment, focusing on the thin line between fact and fiction, not to mention fact and reality (yes, that's a thing, not just a reference to a time I mispoke at a dinner). As a work full of humor and numerous references to allegedly factual occurrences in Naipaul's life, especially regarding his infamous relationship with women in his life and his troubling position as a brown colonial often perceived as adopting racist positions, Kureishi's prose is surprisingly dull and almost uninspired, but the novel's successful for revealing how, like that famous Naipaul quotation indicates, fiction never lies. Perhaps a film adaptation should be attempted for Kureishi's novel, which strikes me as an excellent idea given that Kureishi's fiction writing always struck me as better fit for film, much like The Buddha of Suburbia movie. 

Moondance

Although I am not a big fan of rock music or Van Morrison, "Moondance" is one of the better examples of pop and rock artists using jazz style for their own rather successful results. "Moondance" actually reminds me of "So What" by Miles Davis with a rather bluesy piano solo and even more pronounced bass.

The Last Word

Hanif Kureishi discusses his novel, The Last Word. Although I'm only about halfway through, I find some of prose and dialogue uninspired and dull, but fascinating for fictionalizing Patrick French's biography of V.S. Naipaul. As someone who appreciates Kureishi's screenplays more than his novels, it's refreshing to see him tackle postmodern biography. All fans of Naipaul should read this book. 

Tarik

A highlight from Dewey Redman's invaluable Tarik. Redman and Joshua Redman are proof that family dynasties in jazz can actually work. Ed Blackwell, famous for working with Ornette Coleman, brings Congo Square to Dewey Redman's Eastern-sounding musette playing. According to A.B. Spellman, Ed Blackwell actually collaborated with Ornette Coleman in the 1950s when the latter was trapped in New Orleans during a tour of the South before he moved to Los Angeles. Blackwell's New Orleans roots and interest in Cuban and African rhythms undoubtedly impacted Coleman and Redman, as well as Billy Higgins. Blackwell's drum solo here exemplifies how important New Orleans is livening up so many genres of music, from jazz to funk. 

Black Hollywood Unchained

I recently listened to this panel of contributors to Ishmael Reed's collection of essays for Black Hollywood Unchained and found it highly informative as well as humorous. Reed and co-panelists Justin Desmangles, Jesse Douglas Allen-Taylor, Halifu Osumare, and Marvin X Jackmon spoke at the San Francisco Public Library about the problematic ways in which African-Americans are depicted in Hollywood films. In addition, Reed and other panelists discuss literature, politics, critiques of The Wire's David Simon, Nollywood, Black Arts Movement, and even Islam in Africa. The discussion is always interesting, despite some of the slight audio problems. In the second part of the talk, Reed articulates exactly why the troubling tendency of sexism or misogyny in the media being blamed on black men is not something we can ignore. For Reed, it was never about denying misogyny exists among black men, but to ask why is it that the media often relies on images of pathologized black men for misogyny when it is widespread among men of various ethnic backgrounds. This ties in with some of his past commentary on the Jim Crow media.

Getting Lost: "Best Of" Chet Baker

Chet Baker is shockingly a recent acquisition in my growing jazz library. I've never been impressed very much by his trumpet playing or some of his associates, although there is an understated charm that is perfect for ballads. For me, Chet Baker's approach to vocal jazz is what I appreciate. Baker has this unique voice and phrasing, often a little behind the beat (Billie Holiday, much?), which I find entertaining and perfect for slow evenings. Baker's full of emotion and unafraid of being sentimental or passionate. The longing in his voice is always there, even in his later years when his singing lost some of its range. Like Sathima Bea Benjamin, another jazz vocalist I adore, Baker never forgets to emote and play with words. Furthermore, he could translate trite material like "My Buddy" into a delightful work of art, a pattern established by Billie Holiday and other vocal jazz greats. 

1. It's Always You is a highlight from Chet Baker Sings, one of my favorite recordings where Baker's rookie yet irresistible vocals possess a youthful exuberance that is somehow restrained, much like his trumpet solo on the record.

2. My Ideal features a Russ Freeman on celeste. Freeman was a perfect accompanist to Chet Baker's singing. This is the kind of ballad that found its way in Cowboy Bebop of all things, and my favorite use of celeste in jazz besides Monk's "Pannonica". Baker is full of emotion and longing, but not cheesy, which is often hard to pull off.

3.  Time After Time is another example of Baker at his zenith, in the 1950s and 1960s. The way Baker sings the chorus gives me goosebumps. Even when hitting the high notes Baker is subtle and relaxed.

4. But Not For Me may be my favorite of Baker's vocals. His delivery of the chorus is so upbeat and playful it's a contradictory fit for the song's depressing title.

5. There Will Never Be Another You begins excellently with Baker's trumpet introduction and is an example of his instrumental side of the equation balancing quite well with his singing. When he did not try to transcend his limitations, Baker's shortcomings as a trumpeter don't bother me.

6. I Fall In Love Too Easily brings to mind Billie Holiday's best work in the vein of Songs for Distingué Lovers, sometimes even sounding like a young Holiday singing "Gloomy Sunday". Another lament from Baker's trumpet and Freeman's brief and graceful solo is enough for three minutes of bliss despite the song's somber theme. Russ Freeman is no Mal Waldron or Teddy Wilson, but he gets the job done.

7. Let's Get Lost in each other's arms. Let's defrost in a romantic mist. The silly lyrics are a standout here.

8. Long Ago and Far Away is simple, swinging fun.

9. I Wish I Knew is the only song I can stomach by Chet Baker singing with strings. Like Billie Holiday or Dinah Washington, I usually despise vocal jazz with strings, but the lush soundscape Baker's vocals are accompanied by do not overwhelm.

10. You're Driving Me Crazy alternates between annoying and endearing but somehow works in spite of Baker's wailing-like tone.

11. It Could Happen To You is the only vocal version of this standard I enjoy. I prefer Ryo Fukui's piano trio recording or Bud Powell's recording from the early 1950s, but Baker slows things down to emote in his utterly unique way. Miraculously, even Baker's scatting is delightful.

12. My Heart Stood Still  features an excellent piano solo from Kenny Drew that begins with a quote of a famous blues by Charlie Parker.

13. How Long Has This Been Going On is drenched in the blues. Kenny Drew's accompaniment makes this, while Baker's attempt to sing in a blues-like style works when he doesn't try too hard. Young Dannie Richmond's quiet drumming is the glue holding this together quite well.

14. Old Devil Moon features Baker singing over a Latin beat. What more do you need? It's not the same as Dinah Washington singing over a Latin-ish rendition of "Love For Sale" but still interesting. I believe this is the standard quoted in Butch Warren's bass solo on "Lost" from A Fickle Sonance.

15. Maid in Mexico for more Baker fun with Latin rhythms. Russ Freeman's composition sounds more like a trip to Cuba or New Orleans than Mexico, but actually holds up to some of the Latin-inspired songs of the bebop era. Musicians like Denzil Best come to mind.

16. The Thrill Is Gone should be required listening for night owls. This is the end, indeed!

17.  I Get Along Without You Very Well is late Baker, but still gold. Like Billie Holiday in her later years, the pain of Baker's lifestyle caught up with his music. It's not that Baker or Holiday worsened over time but it's quite different from his younger days. For contrast, listen to Baker singing this tune in the 1950s.

18. Easy To Love is an instrumental, but one of my favorite standards. Cole Porter was a genius.

19. Chet Baker successfully made My Funny Valentine entirely his song. I am ashamed to admit it was Kanye West's sampling of a Etta James take on this standard that eventually brought me to Chet Baker, after initially falling in love with Miles.

20. Daybreak for those early mornings and a happy start.

21. Just Friends is another number about heartbreak that will make you smile. Baker later sang this in a concert not long before he passed.

22. All Of You is a standard I will forever associate with Miles Davis, but Baker does it justice.

23. Alone Together is a bit too derivative of Miles Davis (thinking of his score for Ascenseur pour l'échafaud) and even features many of the sidemen who famously collaborated with Miles.

24. Autumn In New York receives better treatment from Kenny Dorham or Billie Holiday, but one of my favorite standards.

25. For adapting Love For Sale into funk Baker deserves accolades. Cole Porter's standard was already flawless, but this innovative step does not tamper with the song and a funky beat actually matches a song about a prostitute.

26. Chet Baker sings in Italian for Chetty's Lullaby. Maybe just because Italian is a Romance language and the orchestra backing Baker, but he almost sounds like he's singing a bossa nova here. 

Celia

Tonight has been a Bud Powell kind of evening, and "Celia" remains my favorite of his compositions. If memory serves me right, it is named for his daughter, and it is undoubtedly of those sentimental numbers of his where he proves the piano can accomplish everything Bird did on saxophone. Moreover, Bud's moaning along with his tunes is always a special delight, just like Keith Jarrett would later do, not to mention Max Roach's understated swing. 

Spectrum

"Spectrum" is one of Andrew Hill's more challenging compositions, but a highlight from Point of Departure. Richard Davis, a legendary bassist I once met, shines here until Eric Dolphy's melancholic reassertion during a ballad-like solo, sounding a little like his breath-taking moments on George Russell's take on "Round Midnight." Kenny Dorham, however, does not quite fit in here but the music matches the song's title. Hill's versatility without losing his authenticity always impresses. 

Lost

Jackie McLean has long been one of my favorite jazz alto saxophonists. Like Dolphy, he has a singular voice that is utterly McLean. Unlike Dolphy or say Ornette, McLean was rarely venturing in free jazz territory, but always entertaining and thought-provoking. "Lost" is the highlight of A Fickle Sonance, and Billy Higgins, one of my favorite jazz drummers (up there with Tony Williams, Elvin Jones, Ed Blackwell, Art Blakey, Max Roach), who apparently was partly educated in rhythms by Ed Blackwell, switches back and forth between a funky Latin beat and non-Latin swing. Even Butch Warren, an underrated bassist, gets a little time to shine, quoting what sounds like "Old Devil Moon" to my ears.

Herbie Nichols

I am ashamed to admit I know very little about Herbie Nichols, one of the more interesting figures in 1950s jazz but never was celebrated or recognized for his greatness during his life. According to A.B. Spellman, Nichols was often trapped playing with Dixieland revival groups instead of pursuing the music of his heart. Spellman's excellent Four Lives goes into great detail on the tragedy of Nichols and the limitations imposed on jazz in general during the 1960s, especially discriminatory cabaret card laws, record company exploitation of musicians, and racism in the jazz magazines and criticism. Highly recommended is the chapter on Ornette Coleman and his experience in the South and California. 

Prosthetic Cubans

First recorded on Marc Ribot y los Cubanos Postizos, their first album, this take on "Choserito Plena" is lively and rock influenced, which shows Ribot's other strength while accompanied by talented Latin percussion. While not on the same level as Sabu and Arsenio Rodriguez's take on the same tune, which also features vocals, Ribot's take on this classic is worthwhile for doing something different and not losing itself in that elusive quest for authenticity, as the band's humorous name suggests. 

With a Carib Eye

Edgar Mittelholzer's With a Carib Eye was published in 1958, a fateful year in the British West Indies, but also only 4 years before V.S. Naipaul's The Middle Passage: Impressions of Five Societies - British, French and Dutch in the West Indies and South America. While Naipaul's text is more ambitious and travels beyond the confines of the British colonies of the Caribbean, there are some rather fascinating parallels in how both Mittelholzer and Naipaul approach their region as "natives." Naipaul, coming from the Indian community of Trinidad, for example, does not depict Indo-Trinidadians as entirely creolized as Mittelholzer's text seeks to do. 

Both, however, linger on the Western character of Caribbean society, but for Mittelholzer there is no problem with "mimicry" of British or European cultures and norms. Thus, in a very surprising way, Naipaul's actually "right" in a sense that in the West Indies, the tragedy of the black man is to be recast in so many European moulds, but Mittelholzer accepts this as proof that the West Indies is "modern" and not primitive. One sees their ideological and biases play out in Naipaul's praise for calypso as a Trinidadian art form while Mittelholzer looks down on calypso, preferring to praise the accomplishments of West Indian artists, poets, and writers hampered only by economic conditions. 

This continues in their differing approaches to "modern" as defined in Trinidad, where Naipaul criticizes the notion that modernity in Trinidad's middle and upper classes equals consumption of overpriced Northern products while excellent Trinidadian coffee or furniture is cast aside and equated with the poor. One suspects that Mittelholzer is framing his travelogue in the tradition of J.J. Thomas's Froudacity (both are quick to distance themselves from Haiti and its alleged voodoo, not to mention Mittelholzer's eagerness to identify Barbados as an extension of England or brush aside the African and local influences in Saint Lucia's Creole-speaking population)) just as Naipaul embraces Froude and Trollope as a foundation for his self-distancing from the lack of wholly original or "new" societies legitimately rooted among the people. 

Of course, both Mittelholzer and Naipaul offer problematic views of the Caribbean culturally and historically, but how the two intersect and depart from each other and relate to their respective 19th century ideological forebears provide some interesting contrast on how two well-known writers of Trinidad and Guyana approached region, race, culture, and their sense of themselves in the world. A fine synthesis of Naipaul and Mittelholzer is likely to lead to a more holistic view of the West Indies and its people, one in which creolization and even, God forbid, African influences, are not incompatible with Caribbean modernity and the development of national cultures. Perhaps one could even suggest that time has sided with such a perspective as scholarship and Caribbean literatures point to a much needed nuance of complicated concepts such as  modernization, creolization, colonialism, and racial identity.  

Evil Mickey Mouse Invades Japan

I've been watching older Japanese films lately and received some recommendations on early Japanese animation to look into. Some of the propaganda is horrible, yes, but very interesting to compare and contrast with similar propaganda cartoons from the US, especially during World War II. Enjoy! 

Letters Between a Father and Son

V.S. Naipaul's Letters Between A Father and Son is the most humanising and intimate portrait of Naipaul one could possibly read. Theroux's book and French's biography reveal much of the monstruous and ugly side of Naipaul's character and life, such as racism, sexism, and the way he treated his first wife. A necessary balance requires reading the correspondence between a young Naipaul at Oxford and his father. Older sister Kamla, studying in India, is also a strong presence as father, son, and daughter encourage each other, try to stay afloat financially, and make a way in the world. One sees how strong Naipaul's father's influence was on his fiction, especially in inculcating literary awareness and ambition. Perhaps the greatest tribute a son could ever make for his father is the magnificent A House for Mr. Biswas. Unfortunately, after three years of trying to make sense of burgeoning adulthood and adapting to England, Naipaul loses his father and the reader has, by that time, entered into the daily tribulations of the family. 

The striking thing about young Naipaul, at least the Naipaul he chose to express to his father and sister, is how astonishingly from a very young age, he was already exhibiting signs of arrogance, misogyny, disdain for America, ambition, and loathing of Trinidad. He writes about the need to best the English at their own language, casually uses the 'N-word' when hearing about a relation's dalliance with a dougla, and even feels comfortable asserting his superiority to Jane Austen while still an undergraduate! His arrogance allows him to even tell Selvon what a novelist does while writing to his father that Selvon and Mittelholzer were horrible writers! Already, even before leaving Oxford, young Vidia was trying to avoid the fate for those who allow themselves to become nothing, even urging his father, mother, and sisters to avoid too much reliance on some of their Capildeo kin. As a writer who has seamlessly weaved so much of his personal life into his fiction, from Mr. Biswas to Half a Life, the letters contained here are invaluable for revealing the thin line between fact and fiction. 

So Long Eric

Happy birthday, Eric Dolphy. In memory of you, here's a clip from 1964 of Dolphy in Mingus's group. I believe this blues was composed because Dolphy was leaving Mingus's group, and it's a fascinating example of how Dolphy, despite being part of the "New Thing" in jazz, was always aware of jazz tradition. Jaki Byard is fascinating as usual, capable of playing in all the various jazz styles from stride to modern 1960s styles. Clifford Jordan's astonishingly soulful here. 

The Best of Gato Barbieri: A Personal List

Over two months after his Gato Barbieri's death, I am still awe-struck by his music, particularly his output in the 1960s and 1970s. Barbieri was, in my humble opinion, one of the most intriguing jazz musicians in the avant-garde and Latin Jazz worlds. This is part of the reason Eric Dolphy and Archie Shepp, among others, intrigue me, since they straddled the jazz avant-garde and bop worlds. Bringing South American indigenous instrumentation and even, at least a few times, the tango, into his jazz vocabulary was a bold risk. I believe that somewhat raucous and unruly combination of styles, sounds, and musicians usually succeeded, especially with the accompaniment of polished musicians like Lonnie Smith. Furthermore, prior to going his own way in the 1970s, Barbieri proved himself more than capable in avant-garde circles in Europe, even collaborating with Don Cherry and Abdullah Ibrahim with spectacular results, not to mention his presence in seminal works by Carla Bley and Charlie Haden. Unfortunately, after 1975, Barbieri's commercial route lessened my interest in his music, but that fiery, passionate voice of his remained ever-present in his later musical forays. So, in light of his passing, here is a personal "Best of Gato Barbieri."

1. Complete Communion by Don Cherry for an introduction to Barbieri's work with a fellow jazz legend. Cherry's long composition is suite-like and fueled by Eddie Blackwell's busy drumming (at times hinting at Cherry's interest in "world music", but perhaps sounds a little too similar to Ornette Coleman's work at times, especially around 13 or 14 minutes in). After ten minutes into this rather lengthy composition, El Gato gets his time to shine and it's stunning, as well as a second solo later. In the past, I have compared Barbieri's saxophone style to Pharoah Sanders, but he's in a category of his own. 

2. Nunca Mas for the pathos of Barbieri's tenor and the bandoneon of Dino Saluzzi. I have yet to hear a better, sweeter tribute to Barbieri's native Argentina. Saluzzi's bandoneon sounds perfectly at home while Gato wails his heart out. Barbieri also recorded a version of this with a similar large ensemble featuring a variety of South American instruments, almost matching "Encuentros" in its intensity. 

3. Lluvia Azul is worthwhile just to hear Barbieri's passionate take on more conventional Latin Jazz. While not likely to shock fans of his earlier music with the 1960s "New Thing" in jazz, all the pieces come together beautifully here: percussion, lilting piano, an organized ensemble, and non-static, surprising directions that gradually build themselves into something larger than the sum of all its parts. Barbieri's supported by an excellent horn section. Barbieri also recorded this live.

4. Encuentros, an aptly titled song, is what led me to think of Barbieri as the "Pharoah Sanders" of Latin Jazz or Latin America. Combining Brazilian rhythms in a large ensemble playing numerous native South American regions, "Encuentros" brings together Brazil and Spanish-speaking South America, Afro-Latin America and indigenous influences in a way I have never heard elsewhere. Gato was at the intersection of the "Third World" quite literally, in this musical tribute to Latin America.

5. Maria Domingas was written by Jorge Ben, my favorite Brazilian singer. Naturally, I adore Gato's take on a classic in Brazilian samba, plus Lonnie Liston Smith and Stanley Clarke to keep things grounded. Gato even tries a little singing in that utterly unique, yodel-like manner Jorge Ben does. Brilliant.

6. Yesterdays has been a favorite ever since hearing Billie Holiday emote the standard. Gato does it justice while Lonnie Liston's comping and Ron Carter on bass don't hurt. Playing standards in a Latin vein does not always succeed, but this is one of the successful examples, especially in the combination of Gato's softer, sentimental side with unbridled passion and vibrato.

7. La China Leoncia Arreo La Correntinada Trajo Entre La Muchachada La Flor De La Juventud is another number bringing to mind Pharoah Sanders or the "world music" phase of other spiritual and free-jazz artists of the 1970s, especially in Barbieri's shrieks and weeping saxophone. Again, unlike most Latin Jazz, "Amerindian" insturments like the charango and drums are used with special effect. Unlike my "Encuentros," this isn't cluttered, either.

8. Vidala Triste makes the list for featuring significant vocals from Gato and prominent acoustic guitar in a simple yet mysterious romp.

9. Brasil is propelled by Nana Vasconcelos playing his heart out on berimbau and Smith's piano chops. This is not your lounge-jazz bossa nova at all, which is refreshing, since the song builds up slowly from the slower tempo to a frenetic pace while Gato soars, alluding to his freer period while remaining melodious.

10. Yo Le Canto A La Luna, by Atahualpa Yupanqui, is another lyrical tribute of sorts to Argentina and one of the great songwriters who honored indigenous heritage. Jazzy accompaniment by Smith, Barbieri's smooth singing is not bad at all, either. For an idea of the source material, Yupanqui's is a great place to start.

11. Carnavalito is another Brazilian-flavored song, but does not comprise on Gato's tenor driving the entirety of the song, including higher register skronk calling back to his 1960s days. Vasconcelos is back on berimbau, a deceptively simple while Gato straddles between jazz avant-garde and Latin Jazz.

12. Cancion del Llamero/Tango is noteworthy as an early foray into Latin music, or Gato standing at the corner of the Third World. Featuring Charlie Haden on bass, The Third World captures Barbieri in a transitional phase, but it's hauntingly beautiful. The trombone is awkward, but gives it a multilayered texture. Anastasio Quiroga's original version, just vocals, is equally beautiful. The "Tango" part of the equation sounds like Piazzolla's Prepárense, which was also recorded by Barbieri several years later, again. It's a pity the two never recorded together.

13. Fiesta is where Barbieri went for a more commercial sound, embracing funk, soul, and popular music. While an entertaining number, and musically speaking, more interesting than a lot of popular music of the disco era and beyond, it's just not the Gato whose earlier work speaks to me. This, oddly, sounds like like Harlem River Drive with a Latin beat.

14.  El Arriero, composed by Yupanqui, is a rollercoaster ride with a brilliant percussion section backing Barbieri with some dissonant squeals and honking.

15. Parabola, by Alan Shorter, brother of Wayne Shorter, wrote a fascinating song that, well, like a parabola, moves up and down. Muhammad Ali, not the boxer, drums assertively over walking bass and Barbieri's solo takes my breath away. Although this kind of composition sounds like something Grachan Moncur III would have written, the sidemen make it unique, especially Muhammad Ali's propulsive polyrhythms.

16. India for its austere beauty. Written by a Paraguayan, Gal Costa also sang the song.

17. Girl in Black (Para Mi Negra), the highlight for the soundtrack of Last Tango in Paris. Sensual, lush soundscape again reflecting the influence of the tango. Oliver Nelson, who I love for his 1960s classic exploring the blues, did an excellent job arranging this.

18. Hotel Overture, from one of Carla Bley's ambitious projects in the 1970s, is a favorite for Barbieri's brief yet soul-stirring solo in a cacophonous overture for Bley's lofty jazz opera. With a whiff of Ellington and Mingus, Bley's jazz orchestra's are usually rewarding. Carla Bley is rightfully highly regarded as a composer and arranger, but sometimes a little goes a long way for those unable to listen to the entirety of Escalator Over the Hill. This overture will suffice.

19. Latinoamérica is just an adorable Brazilian-influenced tribute to Latin America. A "cute" Latin Jazz song like Charlie Parker's Little Suede Shoes or Marion Brown's La Placita, this is another avenue for Gato's sensitive, emotionally restrained side to express itself with enough cavaquinho to last a lifetime.

20. El Gato because I am a cat lover and a fan of Oliver Nelson. Barbieri is, as one might expect in a song named after him, introspective while Nelson's horn arrangement responds to his call. Nelson's solo is less adventurous, within the bop realm, yet interesting to hear the contrast in Gato's tenor versus his alto.

21. Last Tango In Paris Jazz Waltz stands out from the famous soundtrack for it's clave rhythm and overt jazz character.

22. Michelle as an early example of Gato's 1960s avant-garde years and a lovely tribute to his wife. Just a trio with bass and drums, allowing Gato to blow us away in a free-jazz song that is still structured and accessible, albeit 19 minutes too long for some ears.

23.  Viva la Quince Brigada from Liberation Music Orchestra's suite of Spanish Civil War songs is a showcase for Gato. Haden, Bley, Don Cherry, and just about everyone else participated in this landmark recording of left-wing, anti-imperialist jazz.

24. What Will be Left Between Us and the Moon Tonight? is similar to Hotel Overture and is unmistakably Carla Bley, but from her Tropic Appetites. Barbieri, or "Unidentified Cat," solos over what would not have been out of place on some of his own Latin American-inspired records from the same era as this exotica suite encompasses various African, Indian, Asian and Latin moods.

Song For Che

Otomo Yoshihide's cover of Charlie Haden's famous "Song for Che" embodies the natural connections between the jazz avant-garde and the worlds of rock, hardcore, punk, and metal. I am not sure what one should call this, but a sort of 'punk-jazz' fusion of jazz themes, instrumentation and improvisation meet the frenetic and raucous sounds of rock and its successor genres makes for interesting listening. Otomo Yoshihide's jazz groups also reinterpreted Eric Dolphy's classic Out to Lunch in a similar vein, definitely worth checking out. I always enjoy it when the rockers try to do jazz, and though it's usually less impressive to me than say the actual music of Haden or Coleman or Ayler, it still makes life worth listening. The same could be said of Captain Beefheart, too. 

The Ganymede Takeover

The Ganymede Takeover is worthwhile for a very phildickian tale combining more typical Dick themes with some surprising twists and turns, especially in regards to the Civil Rights Movement and the Nation of Islam. And as a collaboration with Ray Nelson, it's interesting to see how the writing style is, while similar to that of other Dick novels and full of much of his creative imagination and technology in a near-future Earth, is also full of unexpected humor and different pacing in terms of the plot (not to mention some awkward but possibly self-aware prose). Dick must have been one of the few creative minds in science fiction to find some way to tackle the Cold War, the Civil Rights Movement, Buddhism, collectivism versus individualism, and the recent legacy of World War II in such a zany yet thought-provoking manner, including some rather interesting aliens, worm-like beings occupying the Earth. 

Naturally, as one would expect with Dick, things are never as the appear on the surface, feelings are hurt and some are betrayed, and the central contrasts or dichotomous aspects of the mind, the social order, and in psychology and philosophy are perhaps not as clear-cut as one would expect. Perhaps the intersection of reality and unreality in this novel (occuring with weapons designed by Bulanik, a central figure of the novel who may be comparable to Palmer Eldritch) is less developed here or as challenging as Dick's famous works from the 1960s, but this novel is still worthwhile for rare glimpses at Dick's creative goosebumps 'vibing' with another writer. Frankly, the very humorous and dated (to the point of caricature) depiction of Percy X as a reflection of 1960s Black Power and Gus, the horrid redneck representing the white American Southerner as a redneck racist trying to revive the Confederacy leads one to presume Dick and Nelson were smoking marijuana while reading the news or listening to speeches of Maulana Karenga, Farrakhan, and Bull Connor.

Here's a fascinating reading of a short story by Ray Nelson and an interview with Nelson, including discussion of The Ganymede Takeover. Nelson, LeGuin, and Dick go way back...