Archive for the 'Tribute' category

R.I.P. SPENCER GATES

When I first started writing my music column for the SUNY New Paltz school paper, The Oracle, I was lucky to get any publicist on the telephone. All I got was voicemail and hang-ups after my futile requests for product to review in “I Hate Music” (1995-1998). Spencer Gates, who I believe was working for Matador at the time, was one of the first publicists who took my phone call and sent me music. And when I started working at CMJ, she always kept me in her loop during her brief stint at Atlantic and when she ran her own PR boutique (I still treasure those rare Os Mutantes reissues that she sent me back in 1999). Hearing of her passing following her valiant battle with breast cancer really brought a tear to my eye today, and I would like to extend my condolences to her friends and family who are no doubt deeply affected by this great loss. Spencer Gates was one of the best publicists in this business, the measuring stick by which all of these cocky young media types should be held up to by their pointy little toes. Little did I know that she was such a giant of the Boston music scene as well :) .

The following obit is from the Bostonist. Rest in peace, Spencer. You will be greatly missed.

Ann Spencer Gates, of Cambridge, died peacefully at home on July 6, 2008, after a courageous two-year battle with breast cancer. She was a fixture in the Boston music scene, co-hosting “The Mystery Girls” on WMBR for several years. The show welcomed bands like Mission of Burma, Lemonheads, Nervous Eaters, Sorry, and Moving Targets, often alternating punk, country, and other unexpected genres. Gates left Boston and lived in New York, Minneapolis, and Los Angeles, working with artists such as Liz Phair, Pavement, Cat Power, Bettie Serveert, The Fall, Mark Eitzel, and Yo La Tengo. She returned to Boston in 2005 and was embraced by old friends and new.

According to Tom Johnston, manager of Buffalo Tom and Bettie Serveert, “Spencer was one of the greatest, most dazzling people I ever had privilege to get to know. She had great taste, a wicked sense of humor, and was so extroverted that many of the friends I have today, I credit directly to her and her charm and gift of gab.” Donations in Spencer’s memory can be made to Zumix, 202 Maverick St., E. Boston, MA 02128 or Future Chefs, c/o Third Sector New England, 89 South St., Suite 700, Boston, MA 02111-2680. Services will be held at the Charles Hotel in Cambridge on Wednesday, July 9, at 11 am. All are welcome.

R.I.P. GEORGE CARLIN 1937-2008

The IRT mourns the loss of a true giant of comedy this morning. News item courtesy of the New York Times.
June 23, 2008, 7:08AM
Legendary standup comedian George Carlin dead

George Carlin, the Grammy-Award winning standup comedian and actor who was hailed for his irreverent social commentary, poignant observations of the absurdities of everyday life and language, and groundbreaking routines like Seven Words You Can Never Use on Television, died in Los Angeles on Sunday, according to his publicist, Jeff Abraham. He was 71.Abraham said Carlin went into St. John’s Hospital on Sunday afternoon, complaining of chest pain. Carlin died at 5:55 p.m. PDT.The cause of death was heart failure, according to Abraham.

“He was a genius and I will miss him dearly,'’ Jack Burns, who was the other half of a comedy duo with Carlin in the early 1960s, told The Associated Press.

Carlin began his standup comedy act in the late 1950s and made his first television solo guest appearance on The Merv Griffin Show in 1965. At that time, he was primarily known for his clever wordplay and reminiscences of his Irish working-class upbringing in New York.

But from the outset there were indications of an anti-establishment edge to his comedy. Initially, it surfaced in the witty patter of a host of offbeat characters like the wacky sportscaster Biff Barf and the hippy-dippy weatherman Al Sleet. “The weather was dominated by a large Canadian low, which is not to be confused with a Mexican high. Tonight’s forecast . . . dark, continued mostly dark tonight turning to widely scattered light in the morning.”

Carlin released his first comedy album, Take-Offs and Put-Ons, to rave reviews in 1967. He also dabbled in acting, winning a recurring part as Marlo Thomas’ theatrical agent in the sitcom That Girl (1966-67) and a supporting role in the movie With Six You Get Egg-Roll, released in 1968.

By the end of the decade, he was one of America’s best known comedians. He made more than 80 major TV appearances during that time, including the Ed Sullivan Show and Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show; he was also regularly featured at major nightclubs in New York and Las Vegas.

That early success and celebrity, however, was as dinky and hollow as a gratuitous pratfall to Carlin. “I was entertaining the fathers and the mothers of the people I sympathized with, and in some cases associated with, and whose point of view I shared,” he recalled later, as quoted in the book Going Too Far by Tony Hendra, which was published in 1987. “I was a traitor, in so many words. I was living a lie.”

In 1970, Carlin discarded his suit, tie, and clean-cut image as well as the relatively conventional material that had catapulted him to the top. Carlin reinvented himself, emerging with a beard, long hair, jeans and a routine that, according to one critic, was steeped in “drugs and bawdy language.” There was an immediate backlash. The Frontier Hotel in Las Vegas terminated his three-year contract, and, months later, he was advised to leave town when an angry mob threatened him at the Lake Geneva Playboy Club. Afterward, he temporarily abandoned the nightclub circuit and began appearing at coffee houses, folk clubs and colleges where he found a younger, hipper audience that was more attuned to both his new image and his material.

By 1972, when he released his second album, FM & AM, his star was again on the rise. The album, which won a Grammy Award as best comedy recording, combined older material on the “AM” side with bolder, more acerbic routines on the “FM” side. Among the more controversial cuts was a routine euphemistically entitled “Shoot,” in which Carlin explored the etymology and common usage of the popular idiom for excrement. The bit was part of the comic’s longer routine “Seven Words That Can Never Be Said on Television,” which appeared on his third album Class Clown, also released in 1972.

“There are some words you can say part of the time. Most of the time ‘ass’ is all right on television,” Carlin noted in his introduction to the then controversial monologue. “You can say, well, ‘You’ve made a perfect ass of yourself tonight.’ You can use ass in a religious sense, if you happen to be the redeemer riding into town on one — perfectly all right.”

The material seems innocuous by today’s standards, but it caused an uproar when broadcast on the New York radio station WBAI in the early seventies. The station was censured and fined by the FCC. And in 1978, their ruling was supported by the Supreme Court, which Time magazine reported, “upheld an FCC ban on ‘offensive material’ during hours when children are in the audience.”

“So my name is a footnote in American legal history, which I’m perversely kind of proud of,'’ he told The Associated Press earlier this year.

Carlin released a half dozen comedy albums during the ’70s, including the million-record sellers Class Clown, Occupation: Foole (1973) and An Evening With Wally Lando (1975). He was chosen to host the first episode of the late-night comedy show Saturday Night Live in 1975. And two years later, he found the perfect platform for his brand of acerbic, cerebral, sometimes off-color standup humor in the fledgling, less restricted world of cable television.

By 1977, when his first HBO comedy special, George Carlin at USC was aired, he was recognized as one of the era’s most influential comedians. In the years following his 1977 cable debut, Carlin was nominated for a half dozen Grammy awards and received CableAces awards for best stand-up comedy special for George Carlin: Doin’ It Again (1990) and George Carlin: Jammin’ (1992). He also won his second Grammy for the album Jammin’ in 1994.

He produced 23 comedy albums, 14 HBO specials, three books, a couple of TV shows and appeared in several movies, from his own comedy specials to Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure in 1989 - a testament to his range from cerebral satire and cultural commentary to downright silliness (and sometimes hitting all points in one stroke).

“Why do they lock gas station bathrooms?'’ he once mused. “Are they afraid someone will clean them?'’

Carlin was born on May 12, 1937, and grew up in the Morningside Heights section of Manhattan, raised by a single mother. After dropping out of high school in the ninth grade, he joined the Air Force in 1954. He received three court-martials and numerous disciplinary punishments, according to his official Web site.

While in the Air Force he started working as an off-base disc jockey at a radio station in Shreveport, La., and after receiving a general discharge in 1957, took an announcing job at WEZE in Boston.

“Fired after three months for driving mobile news van to New York to buy pot,'’ his Web site says.

From there he went on to a job on the night shift as a deejay at a radio station in Fort Worth. Carlin also worked variety of temporary jobs including a carnival organist and a marketing director for a peanut brittle.

In 1960, he left with Burns, a Texas radio buddy, for Hollywood to pursue a nightclub career as comedy team Burns & Carlin. He left with $300, but his first break came just months later when the duo appeared on Jack Paar’s Tonight Show.

Carlin said he hoped to would emulate his childhood hero, Danny Kaye, the kindly, rubber-faced comedian who ruled over the decade that Carlin grew up in - the 1950s - with a clever but gentle humor reflective of its times.

Only problem was, it didn’t work for him, and they broke up by 1962.

Carlin lost the buttoned-up look, favoring the beard, ponytail and all-black attire for which he came to be known.

But even with his decidedly adult-comedy bent, Carlin never lost his childlike sense of mischief, even voicing kid-friendly projects like episodes of the TV show Thomas the Tank Engine and Friends and the spacey Volkswagen bus Fillmore in the 2006 Pixar hit Cars.

During the course of his career, Carlin overcame numerous personal trials. His early arrests for obscenity (all of which were dismissed) and struggle to overcome his self-described “heavy drug use” were the most publicized. But in the ’80s he also weathered serious tax problems, a heart attack and two open heart surgeries. His greatest setback was the loss of his wife, Brenda Hosbrook, who died in 1997. They had been married for 36 years. Carlin is survived by wife, Sally Wade; daughter Kelly Carlin McCall; son-in-law, Bob McCall; older brother, Patrick Carlin; sister-in-law, Marlene Carlin and long time manager, business partner and best friend Jerold Hamza.

The Associated Press contributed to this report.

R.I.P. BO DIDDLEY 1928-2008

From Billboard.com:
Rock Legend Bo Diddley Dies At 79

Bo Diddley
June 02, 2008, 12:50 PM ET
Jonathan Cohen, N.Y.

Rock legend Bo Diddley died this morning (June 2) of heart failure in Archer, Fla., according to his spokesperson. He was 79. Diddley suffered a stroke last spring and had a heart attack last August, from which he never fully recovered.

Since then, he was undergoing rehabilitation near his Florida home. Funeral services are being planned for this weekend, with details to be announced.

Born Ellas Otha Bates McDaniel on Dec. 30, 1928, in McComb, Miss., Diddley holds the distinction of being the only musician in history to have a specific musical beat, or rhythmic pattern, named after him. The “Bo Diddley beat” blends equal parts rock’n'roll rhythm and gospel shout in its “bomp, ba-bomp-bomp, bomp-bomp” pattern, which became an enduring staple of popular music. His songs, a tasteful blend of blues and R&B elements, were among the earliest true rock’n'roll recordings.

Diddley was an early advocate of fuzzy, distorted guitar sounds. They perfectly complimented his frenetic songs, which played on a homemade square guitar while decked out in dark sunglasses and a black hat. Similarly, his rhythmic, boastful vocal style predated rap by several decades.

Buddy Holly borrowed Diddley’s beat for his hit song “Not Fade Away,” and the Rolling Stones’ version of that song, with its unmistakable nod to Diddley, became the band’s first major British hit single.

In 1983, he had a memorable cameo as a pawn shop clerk in the comedy “Trading Places,” and in 1989, he was introduced to a new generation of fans when he appeared with sports star Bo Jackson in a humorous TV ad campaign for Nike athletic shoes.

Although Diddley toured regularly into his late 70s, his recorded output for the past 30-plus years has been sparse, save for a late ’80s live album with Rolling Stones guitarist Ronnie Wood.

R.I.P. Tero “CAMU TAO” Smith June 26, 1977 - May 25, 2008

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Sad news in the world of underground hip-hop. Words courtesy of a public statement by Camu Tao’s longtime friend and collaborator El-P courtesy of his publicity firm Biz3:

On Sunday, May 25th, at around 2pm, our dear friend, family member and musical collaborator Tero “CAMU TAO” Smith passed away in his home town of Columbus, Ohio. Tero had been quietly fighting for his life for the last year and a half after being diagnosed with lung cancer.

To those who knew Tero, he was an almost uncategorizable force of nature. Wild, hilarious, proud, loving, tough, outspoken, spontaneous and brilliant. He wore his heart on his sleeve and he dripped creativity, leaving inspiration and awe in the hearts and minds of anyone who was fortunate enough to see him work.

Camu was a brilliant rapper, singer and sought after producer. He got his start in the group MHZ which released records on Fondle Em Records. He was also a founding member of the artistic collectives known as “Weathermen” and “Cardboard City”. He was in a group called Nighthawks with Chris “Cage” Palko, whose album was released on Eastern Conference Records. He was also in S.A. SMASH with Keith “Metro” Lawson, who released their debut album “Smashy Trashy” on Definitive Jux records. More recently he was a part of Central Services with myself, Jaime “El-P” Meline, whose debut album “Forever Frozen in Television Time” never got released. At the time of his death he was working on what those who had the chance to hear it considered his break through solo record, called “King of Hearts”, that was scheduled to be released on Definitive Jux this year.
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We, his friends and family, have truly had our collective hearts broken by his passing. Not only because of the loss of our friend, but because of the loss of his contribution to those who never knew what we knew about his talent and his potential. He was the secret that no one wanted to keep and we always knew that one day his vision and his heart could change music forever the way he changed all of our lives.His departure from us all one month away from his 31st birthday is nothing less than a tragedy. Nothing less than a crime. He was a gift to us all and he is irreplaceable.

Rest in peace, Mu. We will love you forever. May god bless you and your family.


Sincerely,

Jaime “El-p” Meline

On behalf of Definitive Jux, Weathermen and many, many wonderful and broken hearted friends. Our hearts and prayers go out to his family and loved ones.


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“I wish I could come up with some profound statement of everything I feel about this amazing man who impacted my life in countless ways but I can not. It has already been so difficult to not have him at home with me. I am not sure how I will carry on my life without Tero but I know that he would kick my ass if I didn’t.
I feel peace knowing that he is no longer in pain and can continue on in his journey of greatness in the next life.
You are my partner, my best friend, and I am so in love with you. Not one day will pass that I do not think about the life I shared with you. I will carry you forever in my heart and in my spirit.” Love, Gayle

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“Summing up my feelings regarding Camu, who he was as a friend, what he did as a musician, and how devastating his death is to me will never be possible. I have never lost a best friend before. These types of emotions have no names. Mu had an infectious magnetism about him that was so far removed from the comfort of any convenient adjective or classification, it makes stomaching this with any hint of grace that much more unrealistic. So much of who I am today is directly related to Camu’s ability to unearth things in me that would have otherwise remained dormant forever. He had an unprecedented influence on me as a human being, and beyond that as an artist. I can only hope that when this current fog eventually lifts, I am strong enough to do justice to the things he has given me.” -Ian “Aesop Rock” Bavitz


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“Camu Tao was like my big brother; hard on me, caring, inspiring, and confident. I looked up to him. On the first day we met he took his jacket off his back and put it on me because he saw that I was cold. That is the type of person he was.” -Yashar “Yak” Zadeh
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“He was robbed of his life. I was robbed of my friend and brother. We created music together and he believed he could change hip hop and so did I. There are many wonderful things I could say about Tero in his passing.I am fortunate I got to tell him most of them while he was alive. I am angry. I am bitter. My life will NEVER be the same again. He said “you should pump this shit like they do in the future” and HE WAS RIGHT!!!!!

I wish he could have seen all this love while he was still here. Cherish every second you have with someone you love sick or healthy. Time is NOT on your side.”

CC/WM FOREVER

Chris “Cage” Palko

R.I.P. MIKE SMITH, LEAD SINGER OF THE LEGENDARY DAVE CLARK FIVE

February 28, 2008
For Immediate Release

DAVE CLARK FIVE SINGER-SONGWRITER MIKE SMITH, R.I.P.

Mike Smith, the lead singer and keyboard player of The Dave Clark Five, one of the premier bands to emerge during the 1960’s “British Invasion”, died today from pneumonia at Stoke Mandeville Hospital outside of London. His devoted wife, Arlene, who is known as Charlie, was by his side. Smith was 64 years old.

Smith, who was due to be inducted into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame with his band mates on Monday, March 10th, was admitted to the hospital’s Intensive Care Unit yesterday morning with a chest infection, a complication from a spinal cord injury he sustained in September, 2003 that left him a tetraplegic (paralyzed below the ribcage with limited use of his upper body). Smith had been in the hospital since the accident, and was just released in December 2007 when he moved into a specially-prepared home near the hospital with his wife. Prior to his hospitalization yesterday, arrangements were being made to transport Smith to New York so he could personally attend the Hall of Fame Induction Ceremony.

After his accident, Smith found tremendous support from his peers including Bruce Springsteen, Little Steven Van Zandt, and Peter Noone of Herman’s Hermits, who helped defray his medical costs through donations and fundraisers. Long-time fan and “Late Show” bandleader, Paul Shaffer, helped organize a benefit concert in New York in August 2005, which featured many of Smith’s fellow “British Invasion” stars, including The Zombies and Peter & Gordon. A DVD of the benefit, Paul Shaffer and his British Invasion: A Tribute to Mike Smith will be released in March by VDI Entertainment.

According to Smith’s agent, Margo Lewis of TCI in New York, “These last five years were extremely difficult for Mike. I am incredibly saddened to lose him, his energy and his humor, but I am comforted by the fact that he had the chance to spend his final months and days at home with his loving wife, Charlie, whom he adored, instead of in the hospital, and that he was able to attend a recent concert in London by his good friend, Bruce Springsteen. He was extremely excited and honored to have been inducted into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame and I am glad that he will be remembered as a “Hall of Famer,” because he was in so many ways.”

JOEL DORN 1942-2007 R.I.P.

The IRT expresses its condolences to the Dorn family. Another true giant of the record industry has been lost. Obituary courtesy of Kevin Calabro, a longtime associate, publicist and friend of Mr. Dorn.

JOEL DORN

 JOEL DORN

(April 7, 1942 - December 17, 2007)

 

Joel Dorn, a multiple Grammy Award-winning record producer who first made a name for himself while at Atlantic Records in the late 1960s and early ’70s, died on Monday, December 17, from a heart attack, in New York City at the age of 65.  One of the most prolific producers of his time, Dorn’s discography stretches from the multi-platinum soul sounds of Roberta Flack to the black classical music of Rahsaan Roland Kirk.  He helped introduce the world to Bette Midler’s diva swing and the funky New Orleans‘ R&B of The Neville Brothers. His name can be found on the back of classic recordings by Les McCann and Eddie Harris, Mose Allison, Yusef Lateef, Leon Redbone, Peter Allen, Don Mclean, The Allman Brothers Band, David “Fathead” Newman, Donny Hathaway and Mongo Santamaria to name just a few.  “It’s impossible to pick a highlight,” Dorn once said.  “If one record was a highpoint because of great sales, there’s another to match it for the incredible fun that went into making it and another that achieved its intended artistic vision.”

From an early age, Joel Dorn knew he wanted to be in the music business, and not just anywhere in the business; Dorn knew he wanted to work specifically for Atlantic Records.  At 14-years old, he began correspondence with the label’s co-founder Nesuhi Ertegun.  “I’d send letters telling him who I thought they should have duet with Ray Charles, what talent they were missing out on, all sorts of critiques and suggestions,” remembered Dorn.

In 1961, he officially began his career as a disc jockey at the pioneering Philadelphia jazz radio station WHAT-FM. “The DJ gig was a great way to get to know all the record companies, and get involved in the business, but I had my heart set on producing the entire time,” remembered Dorn.

Nesuhi Ertegun, who’d now been corresponding with Dorn for six years, finally began to take those opinions seriously.  “My show had become popular in the Philly market, and I think Atlantic realized that I was becoming instrumental in breaking records for them on a regional level,” figured Dorn.  “Before long the letters turned into telephone calls and I eventually met Nesuhi.”

As fate in 1963 would have it, Ertegun offered Dorn the chance to produce one record by an artist of his choice for Atlantic Jazz. Dorn chose Hubert Laws, a young flutist he had seen in Philly performing with Mongo Santamaria’s band. The resulting album, The Laws of Jazz, would become the first of countless record production credits to follow.

By 1967, Dorn joined Atlantic Records full-time as Nesuhi Ertegun’s assistant.  He was given the opportunity to sign artists, produce their records and become intricately involved with the promotion and marketing. Rising quick through the ranks, Joel, along with Nesuhi and Ahmet Ertegun, Jerry Wexler, Arif Mardin and Tom Dowd became part of the most formidable record producing team of all time. Focusing primarily on jazz and R&B recordings, Joel developed a production style that was unique to the time period. “I brought pop techniques and pop sensibilities to jazz and R&B records,” recalls Dorn.  “As a producer I had two gigantic influences: Lieber and Stoller and Phil Spector.  To this day before I go in and make a record, I’ll throw on ’Be My Baby’ or a Coasters’ record.”

His work at Atlantic Records with Roberta Flack on “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” and “Killing Me Softly” won two consecutive Grammy Awards for “Record Of The Year.”  Additional Grammies were soon to follow including “Jazz Record Of The Year” for Keith Jarrett and Gary Burton.  Joel also went on to sign Bette Midler and co-produce her debut album The Divine Miss M.  “Some of the best times I’ve ever had involved recording artists who were completely unknown at the time like Roberta and Bette, and then watching them ascend to national prominence,” Dorn exclaims.  “It’s a great feeling to put your faith in a young artist who you believe in and see them flourish.”

In 1974, after accumulating ten Gold albums, five Platinum albums and seven Gold singles, Joel Dorn left Atlantic Records. He’d produce for a variety of labels and artists during this period, including albums by Leon Redbone, Lou Rawls, Don McClean, Peter Allen, Mink Deville and The Neville Brothers.  He was awarded yet another Grammy for ”Best Country and Western Instrumental” with Asleep At The Wheel’s ”One O’Clock Jump,” and received two more Gold records for the Leon Redbone albums On The Track and Champagne Charlie.

In the mid-1980s, Dorn scaled back the hectic production schedule he’d maintained for the previous two decades.  He took time off to travel the United States from ‘86 through ‘89, and in the process gathered hours upon hours of previously unreleased “live” recordings  from many of his favorite artists. Four collections documenting Cannonball Adderley, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Les McCann and Eddie Harris were subsequently released on Joel’s own label, Night Records. He later referred to these albums as “audio verite.” It was through this short-lived venture that Dorn began to reinvent himself within the industry.  He was soon asked to consult for the likes of Rhino, GRP and Columbia, which were in the process of updating and reissuing their catalogs on CD.  Joel produced a 13-CD historical overview of the Atlantic Jazz years for Rhino. His production on the 7-CD John Coltrane box set entitled The Heavyweight Champion earned him an additional Grammy-nomination, while collections by Ella FitzgeraldBillie Holiday and Oscar Brown, Jr. cemented Dorn’s reputation as a preeminent audio documentarian and reissue producer.

In 1995, the Smithsonian Institute added Joel Dorn’s works and papers to its collection in honor of his accomplishments as a record producer.  By the end of that year, Dorn decided it was time to take another shot at running his own record label.  He subsequently formed 32 Records, which focused on reissuing albums from the classic Muse and Landmark jazz vaults, as well as select titles from Atlantic Records.  In the four years spent with the label, Dorn reissued over 250 titles, and produced the critically acclaimed Individually Twisted by the Jazz Passengers with Deborah Harry.  His biggest commercial success of this period came after developing the Jazz For A Rainy Afternoon compilation series, which went on to become one of the best selling jazz sets in the history of the genre. “I’m proud of what we accomplished with 32 Records in such a short period of time. There was the continued effort to get all of Rahsaan Roland Kirk’s albums back in print. There was a terrific Judy Garland box set and personally fulfilling Clyde McPhatter set. For better or worse, the Jazz For… series turned the industry on its ear, completely reshaping how jazz is marketed in this day and age,” Dorn explained at the time.  “I go into the record shops now and all these cats like Sonny Criss, Zoot Sims and Sonny Stitt are being reissued with intelligent price points and new packaging.  To a certain extent, 32 tested the waters on that front and proved that these artists have an undying appeal.  Nobody else was going there and now it’s like every company in the world is looking for old jazz catalogs to reissue.”

2007 marked Joel Dorn’s 47th year in the record business.  In a great loss to both American culture and music fans everywhere, it would be his last. Over the past decade, he’d produced albums by Jane Monheit, Jacob Fred Jazz Odyssey, Leon Parker, Janice Siegel and The Frank and Joe Show (featuring guitarist Frank Vignola and percussionist Joe Ascione). In 2003, Dorn helped create HYENA Records.  The independent label forged an identity with an intriguing mix of new and archival recordings, including those by Bobby Darin, Thelonious Monk, Dr. John and Joe Williams.

At the time of his death, Dorn was completing a five CD box set for Rhino Handmade entitled Homage A Nesuhi, serving as a tribute to his mentor Nesuhi Ertegun and their years together at Atlantic Records. He was also the voice of Sirius Satellite Radio’s “Pure Jazz” channel and was producing a series of music infomercials for Time Warner.

“I don’t know how to do anything else.  It’s like if I don’t do this what am I going to do?  Sit in the park?  I love doing stuff with music, with records. I enjoy it,” Dorn once said about being a producer. “I know that might not be the great spiritual answer, but I really love making records.”

Dorn leaves behind three sons, Michael Dorn, who operates his own furniture store in Philadelphia, David Dorn, Sr. Vice President New Media for Rhino Records, and Adam Dorn (aka Mocean Worker), a musician, and his longtime girlfriend Faye Rosen.

 


 


JOEY BISHOP R.I.P.

From Yahoo! News:

Members of the 'Rat Pack,' from left, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr., and Joey Bishop, perform at the Sands Hotel in Las Vegas Jan. 20, 1960.  Bishop, the stone-faced comedian who found success in night clubs, television and movies but became most famous as a member of Frank Sinatra's boisterous Rat Pack, has died at his home, his publicist said Thursday. Oct.. 18, 2007. (AP Photo)

AP Photo: Members of the ‘Rat Pack,’ from left, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Sammy Davis Jr., and…

Slideshow: Joey Bishop dies

By JEFF WILSON, Associated Press Writer 2 minutes ago

LOS ANGELES - Joey Bishop, the stone-faced comedian who found success in nightclubs, television and movies but became most famous as a member of Frank Sinatra’s Rat Pack, has died at 89.


He was the group’s last surviving member. Peter Lawford died in 1984, Sammy Davis Jr. in 1990, Dean Martin in 1995, and Sinatra in 1998.

Bishop died Wednesday night of multiple causes at his home in Newport Beach, publicist and longtime friend Warren Cowan said Thursday.

The Rat Pack became a show business sensation in the early 1960s, appearing at the Sands Hotel in Las Vegas in shows that combined music and comedy in a seemingly chaotic manner.

Reviewers often claimed that Bishop played a minor role, but Sinatra knew otherwise. He termed the comedian “the Hub of the Big Wheel,” with Bishop coming up with some of the best one-liners and beginning many jokes with his favorite phrase, “Son of a gun!”

The quintet lived it up whenever members were free of their own commitments. They appeared together in such films as “Ocean’s Eleven” and “Sergeants 3″ and proudly gave honorary membership to a certain fun-loving politician from Massachusetts, John F. Kennedy, at whose inauguration gala Bishop served as master of ceremonies.

The Rat Pack faded after Kennedy’s assassination, but the late 1990s brought a renaissance, with the group depicted in an HBO movie and portrayed by imitators in Las Vegas and elsewhere. The movie “Ocean’s Eleven” was even remade in 2003 with George Clooney and Brad Pitt in the lead roles.

Bishop defended his fellow performers’ rowdy reputations in a 1998 interview.

“Are we remembered as being drunk and chasing broads?” he asked. “I never saw Frank, Dean, Sammy or Peter drunk during performances. That was only a gag. And do you believe these guys had to chase broads? They had to chase ‘em away.”

Away from the Rat Pack, Bishop starred in two TV series, both called “The Joey Bishop Show.”

The first, an NBC sitcom, got off to a rocky start in 1961. Critical and audience response was generally negative, and the second season brought a change in format. The third season brought a change in network, with the show moving to ABC, but nothing seemed to help and it was canceled in 1965.

In the first series, Bishop played a TV talk show host.

Then, he really became a TV talk show host. His program was started by ABC in 1967 as a challenge to Johnny Carson’s immensely popular “The Tonight Show.”

Like Carson, Bishop sat behind a desk and bantered with a sidekick, TV newcomer Regis Philbin. But despite an impressive guest list and outrageous stunts, Bishop couldn’t dent Carson’s ratings, and “The Joey Bishop Show” was canceled after two seasons.

Bishop then became a familiar guest figure in TV variety shows and as sub for vacationing talk show hosts, filling in for Carson 205 times.

He also played character roles in such movies as “The Naked and the Dead” (”I played both roles”), “Onion-head,” “Johnny Cool,” “Texas Across the River,” “Who’s Minding the Mint?” “Valley of the Dolls” and “The Delta Force.”

His comedic schooling came from vaudeville, burlesque and nightclubs.

Skipping his last high school semester in Philadelphia, he formed a music and comedy act with two other boys, and they played clubs in Pennsylvania and New Jersey. They called themselves the Bishop Brothers, borrowing the name from their driver, Glenn Bishop.

Joseph Abraham Gottlieb would eventually adopt Joey Bishop as his stage name.

When his partners got drafted, Bishop went to work as a single, playing his first solo date in Cleveland at the well-named El Dumpo.

During these early years he developed his style: laid-back drollery, with surprise throwaway lines.

After 3 1/2 years in the Army, Bishop resumed his career in 1945. Within five years he was earning $1,000 a week at New York’s Latin Quarter. Sinatra saw him there one night and hired him as opening act.

While most members of the Sinatra entourage treated the great man gingerly, Bishop had no inhibitions. He would tell audiences that the group’s leader hadn’t ignored him: “He spoke to me backstage; he told me `Get out of the way.’”

When Sinatra almost drowned filming a movie scene in Hawaii, Bishop wired him: “I thought you could walk on water.”

Born in New York’s borough of the Bronx, Bishop was the youngest of five children of two immigrants from Eastern Europe.

When he was 3 months old the family moved to South Philadelphia, where he attended public schools. He recalled being an indifferent student, once remarking, “In kindergarten, I flunked sand pile.”

In 1941 Bishop married Sylvia Ruzga and, despite the rigors of a show business career, the marriage survived until her death in 1999.

Bishop, who had one son, Larry, spent his retirement years on the upscale Lido Isle in Southern California’s Newport Bay.

___

Associated Press Writer Bob Thomas contributed to this report.

ANDREW HILL 1931-2007

IT IS WITH MUCH SADNESS THAT IRT REPORTS THE DEATH OF JAZZ LEGEND ANDREW HILL, PERHAPS THE GREATEST PIANO PLAYER TO EVER RECORD FOR BLUE NOTE RECORDS, WHO LOST HIS LONG, VALIANT BATTLE WITH LUNG CANCER AT THE AGE OF 75 THIS PAST FRIDAY (APRIL 20, 2007) IN HIS JERSEY CITY HOME. THE HOME WHERE IRT SENIOR EDITOR SHAWN SCHEPS WAS FORTUNATE ENOUGH TO SIT AND ENJOY WHAT IS NOW HIS FINAL MAGAZINE INTERVIEW, WHICH CAN BE READ UNCUT AND IN ITS ENTIRETY JUST BELOW THIS MESSAGE. OUR THOUGHTS AND PRAYERS GO OUT TO HIS FAMILY UPON OUR HEARING OF THIS TRAGIC NEWS, AND OUR STAUNCH APPRECIATION TO MR. SCHEPS FOR TURNING IN SUCH AN AMAZING INTERVIEW WITH THIS WONDERFUL HUMAN BEING. -Ed.

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Andrew Hill: The IRT Interview
By: Shawn Scheps

Here at the IRT we’re dedicated to bringing our readers articles on music that we feel is authentic. With that said, music doesn’t come any more real than that of Andrew Hill’s. Not many musicians can claim to have not ever compromised themselves in order to please someone other than their listeners or themselves. However, Andrew Hill can rest assured that he has never compromised his artistic integrity for the man or the money. Hill, who was called “the last great protégé” by Blue Note Records co-founder Alfred Lion, has spent his career staying true to himself, not to the passing trends and gimmicks of the past six decades of music. For instance, while many of his contemporaries sold their souls to fusion in the ’70s, Hill steered his ship clear. And when the ’80s ushered in the era of cheesy commercial jazz, you would not hear Hill’s music by tuning the dial to CD 101.9.

For those unfamiliar, the legendary pianist and composer’s was born on June 30, 1937 and raised in the South Side of Chicago. He got his professional start gigging in Chicago back in ‘52 and by summer ‘53 was accompanying Charlie Parker at the Greystone Ballroom in Detroit. He also rehearsed with Miles Davis during these early years and recorded his debut, “So in Love,” with a trio that featured ….. in ‘55. He moved to NY in ‘61 and performed with Rahsaan Roland Kirk before his own recording career took solid root after being introduced to Alfred Lion by Joe Henderson. Subsequently he was signed to the label for the first of three times in ‘63 where he spent the better part of the decade composing and recording some of the era’s most original and forward thinking music with many of post-bop’s luminaries including - Eric Dolphy, Roy Haynes, Richard Davis, John Gilmore, Woody Shaw, Tony Williams, Freddie Hubbard, Elvin Jones, Bobby Hutcherson, Charles Tolliver and Lee Morgan.

Although his profile, along with that of jazz in general, waned with the advent of fusion, Hill never stopped composing, recording and forging forward with his music. He spent most of the ’70s and ’80s on the West Coast presenting solo concerts, classes and workshops in prison as well as teaching music at Portland State University as well as gigging as a public high school teacher and occasionally performing at international jazz festivals. Throughout these years Hill released music on Steeplechase, East Wind, Artists House and Soul Note labels before returning to Blue Note in ‘89 for two albums. Although these albums helped to increase his visibility in the jazz world, it was his album “Dusk,” released by Palmetto in ‘00, that really brought him back into the limelight, garnering all-around praise as well as numerous awards. They say the third time is a charm and with Hill back on Blue Note his most recent release, “Timelines,” proves this. It’s a masterpiece and testament to the fact that his vision is as intact, alive and advanced as ever. He was awarded the Playboy Jazz Artist of the Year

IRT: When you came to NYC in the early 60’s I believe the first album you were on was a Joe Henderson album, right?

AH: I think the first album was Walt Dickerson, “To My Queen,” and then… no, actually the first one was Roland Kirk’s “Domino.” I was working with him and we did it right after Newport and the second one was the Walt Dickerson, “To My Queen.”

IRT: So then the Joe Henderson album the first Blue Note session you were on?

AH: No, I think the first Blue Note session was…Hank Mobley. Wait, no, Joe Henderson was my first Blue Note session.

IRT: That must have been amazing to have just been around in that scene during that time…

AH: Well that was a different time, and you know, it’s amazing how much society has changed. Musicians played for the love of the music and you know, you’d do like four or five sessions a day. And most of the time people were playing with so many different bands that they were rewarding and refreshing and each one had a different approach, it hadn’t polarized itself to the point where it was just one sound, you know where it says “Coltrane sound.” Even though before that there was the Charlie Parker sound, but then it had eased up where other individuals were possible. So it was a good time because people were playing different ways instead of variations on one way.

IRT: And the cross-pollination of ideas must have been inspiring.

AH: It was inspiring, it was. You know like as people become more, allegedly sophisticated, things begin to seem to be different. You know people say like, “oh they were in an inspired town,” but it wasn’t really so much about inspiration than being prepared to be able to explore. Like the space engineers before their jobs disappeared; in the mid 60s almost two-thirds of the places where the musicians used to perform disappeared. So there was no room for that type of attitude after a certain point. Because in NY you always have had like let’s say, the Village Vanguard, but with the Village Vanguard back then you had places like, Wells and Sugar Ray Robinson’s. Places in Harlem that, you know, you had fried chicken and pancakes and chicken and waffles. But they had jazz then and that’s one thing where it’s sad, that old, you know either there’s white jazz or there’s black jazz and for white jazz the black jazz wasn’t in script because these places were owned by pimps and dope dealers and there was this whole part of society being phased out; but you had these places all across the country, like in New York you could run to Rochester to Jon Hendricks’s place, he had a jazz club. You had all these places that just disappeared so with that disappearing it reshaped the jazz situation and the people who later paid for are the shape of the music itself.

IRT: And this is probably around the time when a lot of your contemporaries began embracing technology and incorporating electronic elements into the music with the whole fusion movement.

AH: Well, fusion yea, yea. The only thing that kept me away from fusion, I said, “if you hit, you know the world is yours for a moment, you know all this is opened, money, work.” But if you don’t hit you compromised for nothing and threw away your artistic seniority for nothing. But they were beginning to incorporate electronics into the music but that was after all these other places got lost because we were talking about the two places, and you know because the Village Vanguard is still there but Sugar Ray’s and Wells and all those other places across the country aren’t there anymore. You know, so who supported it was, then rock-jazz came and then the music almost disappeared because then you have a little more intellectual contingency, like AEC (Art Ensemble of Chicago). But these things, rules, like as middle-class intellectual institution work, before it was built upon a traditional situation that has evolved for 250 years, just evolved into the community where it was a popular music and then in the latter 60’s it made the transition from popular music to an art form. So that’s always the sign of death or something that’s gone to sleep for a while. Now the music seems to be coming back again.

IRT: I think it’s cool that you stayed true to the roots of the music and kept the acoustic thing going throughout the 70s and continued to take it in innovative directions. Did you ever have the urge to take a more commercial route?

AH: Well, you know you think about it because no matter what one says, you’re conscious of money and the things that money will buy. But then, after money anyway it don’t matter cause here you’re about to take a gamble on your life in an area that you basically know nothing about. So they always sound, it’s not always they can contrive me and say, well you know, “here I am playing fusion,” which went to another formula for putting a fusion band back then together, or you know a so called energy band. Even though it was like a phenomenon to have all these un-schooled musicians getting paid a fortune, there was nothing to build on. So you take that energy and try and build on something without no motion, or just a static noise or a roll, which is hip but it was less…and for a lot of people it turned out to be their last musical statement. They played fusion and the next thing you know there was nothing to come back to. It wasn’t like three or four years ago where you can make a spectacular mistake and come back and play something beautiful and get accepted by other people; because a lot people were leaving the music cause they refused to accept the music the way the journalists were representing to them what the new thing was. To the journalists it was anything that could have some type of hope to it; but you know, it’s good for journalism but that doesn’t mean it’s good for the ears.

IRT: So what’s your opinion on the future of jazz music?

AH: Well, you look at it right now and it’s doing pretty good…you don’t have too many big record companies anymore. So on one hand one can say that’s terrible but on the other hand one can say well, that it’s good to an extent it’s shaping the music according to them and the only way it can survive is to be supported by the people. And then in New York or all these other cities you have your bigger jazz clubs and your smaller jazz clubs for young artists that are developing. And then with the digitized music and music streaming, you know like people who never heard your music can get Yahoo.com for like five dollars and listen to things they wouldn’t have listened to; you know like Charlie Mingus, or anyone, and just listen and give themselves a music appreciation lesson and become familiar. Before things, albums, were more expensive and there is so much hype and you have to get through the hype to get to who was playing. And now all these things have been eased, the only problem I see creeping its head up is these corporations, you know like the MacArthur Foundation. Now they don’t want to give a genius award to anyone over 40 (laughing) and all this stuff….but actually that’s really terrible because for the first time in a long time the young can pull from the older artists and play for the people and can get this synergy, that they used to have with the people and move the music forward. And then you have these other companies that kind of involved with music by, artificial means I call it, you know, getting this “money”…but you know I think the music is good…sometimes I think that the future of the music is great. And then when one young person comes out that can really play, like Charlie Parker and his music among my school contemporaries, then that’ll move the music along. So that’s all it needs is one who can really play, you know. Some are more looking for the connection between rap and jazz but I don’t think it’s the connection I think the connection is just a young person that’s really playing.

IRT: That’s going to push it forward…

AH: Well that’s it…

IRT: So who’s that, have you met them?

AH: (laughter) I can tell all the potential and they’re getting better and everything again you get down to it and their only form of survival is the people.

IRT: Do you still listen to a lot of new music?

AH: I listen to it only because, if it’s in the way it was presented to me as the my music of my youth was, improvisation, or you know now many people say “this moment was documented” and the greatness and stuff which was really intended to just be a passing phrase and then, talking about technology, you can preserve that moment even though that moment is over and can’t come again. I used to talk to Gene Ammons about that, you know, why he would be repetitive in his solos on the record. Then you go to that era, where all of a sudden at some point the highlight of that song is that he’s gonna play the same solo that he played on the record. So you know it’s not just improvised music I’m playing now, I’m playing popular music because once people get that record I keep saying there’s just something there they don’t just listen to it once; they listen to it over again so they hear things they haven’t heard and things they have heard, that’s part of that process. They can sing you the most abstract of solos note for note. But I always say that the involved audience is coming back, people are listening to music and you know, in any hard times what happened is people would become more involved with the arts again. It’s good to shake your booty but people seem to be demanding a little more than that, you know, society as a whole.

IRT: So would you say music for you is very of the moment? Like on your latest album, “Timelines,” were are all the pieces recently composed?

AH: Yea, they’re all fairly recent because you know some people like to create their library and re-record. I can see the chance in which in it I would say, I’ll record and do this, do this or do that, but I can’t do it that way. Because in what happens is, to save and preserve a moment that never was, you seem to lose something. So it’s better for me, you know you can’t write music for musicians specifically, but to have it kind of current where you can connect into something now, instead of reaching for a past period that one wasn’t able to participate in, but you still have this as a memory for that day back then.

IRT: So do you have a lot of music that you’ve written over the years that you never recorded that you probably won’t?

AH: Well, almost everything that…I’ve been writing things for string quartets and other things and a lot of it has gone un-recorded and a lot of it has disappeared…at least I’ve been lucky enough as to compose it and get a lot of things done and be able to hear it myself. It’s important in itself compositionally.

IRT: So how long have you been living in Jersey City?

AH: Since ‘96.

IRT: And before that you were in NYC?

AH: No before that I was in Portland, Oregon.

IRT: Okay, so when you moved back east you moved here?

AH: Yea, we moved here. First we moved to Dixon Mills, you know where?

IRT: Where is that?

AH: You know right up the street it used to be where they made the number two…

IRT: Oh the pencil factory.

AH: Yea the pencil factory where they have these unusual apartments.

IRT: So how do you like it around here?

AH: Well I like it because here you’re literally a stones throw away from New York, but you can come here and get away from some of the madness of New York. It has its moments of everything, you know where it becomes so quiet you become your worst fear; because you have all of these terrible things in your imagination that come from living right next to New York but you know, I like it. You can be yourself, you don’t have to have a 24/7 act going, you can kind of just relax into where you are. It’s a nice place to live.

IRT: Yea, I’ve been here for about two years, it’s nice that it’s been somewhat undiscovered by the yuppies and hipsters and you can still find an affordable place to live.

AH: Well when we came in it turned out, we got the place for $300,000 to $400,000 and you know now the price is $900,000 and going up. So now a lot of people are re-discovering it, especially this neighborhood. You know but that’s just the way of the world on one level. After they build all of these luxury condos and such, but why are people going to live there. They got places for them to live, now each one almost has to make a million dollars to afford it, you know. (Laughter)

IRT: It blows my mind…

AH: Oh that blows my mind there too.

IRT: And what the fallout of it is going to be.

AH: Well there has to be a real estate crash, it’s too ridiculous.

IRT: And where are all these people coming from

AH: (Laughter) I mean and where are they going to work at!

IRT: There has got to be some recession or depression in this country’s future, the way things are going.

AH: Oh I’ve been predicting a lot of terrible things for a long time but it don’t happen, it just keeps on going.

IRT: How do you feel on the condition of our country on a whole right now?

AH: Oh my god, did you see that special on the ice age on Saturday. Well I look it as the ice age; they say if we stop doing everything now it’s too late.

IRT: You mean with the whole global warming or in general?

AH: Yea, everything. We don’t have to do anything, we will have exterminated ourselves.

IRT: Even just talking in terms of global warming, I drove up to VT this past weekend to get away…

AH: And you didn’t see that much snow.

IRT: No snow.

AH: No snow!

IRT: Not even in the mountains

AH: Not even! Well every aspect is the same way you know, what should be done. But it’s so late now like they say if we stop we still can’t cancel out 50,000 years of going back…no snow and the hurricanes and storms will be worse. I mean everything else is the same way, it’s terrible…you know some bad decisions that have taken over…You know so that’s why artists come up important globally and internationally because if the world can open itself back up to the artist’s way and not behave materialistic then that may give the world a few good moments before…and then they might find a way of salvaging what can be salvaged. Because with the glaciers disappearing that means a lot of the land masses are going to disappear.

IRT: Right, oceans are all going to rise.

AH: Yea, and in a seaport town like New Orleans, you know they’re basically gone. Like I said, I don’t know what to say. You know it’s terrible cause I can say “What do we do now?” It can’t be salvaged.

IRT: I think that’s the way a lot of people see it, I’m just surprised more people aren’t standing up and…

AH: Oh well they’re standing up, you know because they’re saying, “Oh our children. Look at the legacy for our children.” The children have no legacy but death. Unless they find another planet and if there is another planet whose going to want us there. You know so that’s why the arts become important because maybe through a certain frame of mind other things become possible.

IRT: Exactly, because I don’t see it going in that other direction now.

AH: Uh ah, me neither. You look at it and the path is scary because it’s all up and down and there you have this whole batch of ignorant people, endorsing. What can you do?

IRT: And then there is no accountability. These people want to act as if no mistakes were made on their part.

AH: Oh, Oh, Oh, there are no mistakes made, they just…

IRT: Incompetent…

AH: Well, they’re competent, they’re destroying the United States making it a potential third world country.

IRT: The way I see it is this country has had its rise to greatness and now…

AH: Oh, they took the jobs away, so once you put the jobs elsewhere, everyone wants the Indian market, the Chinese market wherever, you know forget this poor people in the states. Demographically they are important, as consumers.

IRT: Right, and then there is the message we’re showing the rest of the world.

AH: Well that’s why I think with artists, because sometimes the arts, if they get strong enough, can be strong enough to alter the civilization to a certain extent. That’s why I believe it’s getting strong because there has to be another side of us besides the animal side that saves us.

IRT: It seems like the 60s was the pinnacle of that.

AH: Oh that was the end, really the 50s and 60s. Like everyone says, the 50s in jazz was like the intellectual-Jewish formal-evening period and then it started going down in the 60s, it became the black-nationalist period. But musically it went to, as you call it, you know like music so loud you couldn’t hear, you know tone deaf. So then crowds just accepted music a lot instead of following the traditional evolution. So that’s what stopped the music back then. Then everything started becoming more materialistic. You know people getting more money so they could dress up, go out, shake their ass, and leave their government in someone else’s hands because they have their disposable income and they can get all these toys. Things to keep them…earning more money and that becoming culture. When before, someone would say, “well culture is a little bit by going to college,” but not anymore. You can be stupid as ever as long as you have a good memory and can apply what you can for the good of the corporation.

IRT: Some of the dumbest people I know are ones with higher level degrees.

AH: (laughter) Oh, I know! That’s amazing. I look at them and I want to say, “well you don’t know everything!” There is so much knowledge and you need to put it all together.

IRT: Right, having an open enough mind to expose your self to stuff…

AH: Right, exposing yourself and bringing up new things. Well, we’ll see, or those who will shall see. It’ll be alright, because in some kind of way the arts always have a way of maintaining or saving humanity.

IRT: What would you say some of your most memorable sessions or gigs going back to the 50s and 60s were?

AH: Well they all were good from that period. It’s not that anecdotal…one could remember like the music being good to having a great time playing the music. But like I said it was a different time; it was a time of more being, more so than reflecting…it represented a perpetual good time for a brief moment.

IRT: Were you ever conscious of the legacy you were leaving behind at the time?

AH: No one was in it for the legacy, we were more in it for the moment than the legacy.

IRT: Looking back at your music do you have a favorite album that you did?

AH: I like them all even though some have been naturally accepted by society more than others, you know. But I like them all because they were all done with a certain type of sincerity. That’s why for me when it would get to the point where I would just be a step away from becoming a studio musician I would step away, because as I’d say “look, just cut to the point that all I really enjoy is making the money.” You know a little bit when it’s available. But then I just gave a good part of myself away for nothing.

IRT: And you never stopped playing music at all, even during those years that you weren’t releasing recordings?

AH: Oh no, and because this almost connects to the same sentence, all of a sudden it becomes so much about money. You know, you don’t play unless you got gigs, you don’t practice unless you have something to practice to at that gig. So all of a sudden you get to this point where you may have this natural talent for playing music, but the feeling has left. The feeling kind of joins Washington and Ben Franklin, you know, and I always look at it that it would be a shame to lose that. Because then you literally have nothing.

IRT: And then you see all these musicians playing on autopilot.

AH: Well, that’s good, I don’t like to tell people how to live or what they should enjoy but for me compromising, if it was compromising for nothing, why compromise. It’s indicative of someone saying, “I’ll give you the world,” and give you the world and then even though you have given a major part of yourself away you do have, something/nothing, but you do have something tangible that you sold out for. I mean but just to sell yourself out for nothing and you know $50,000 or $40,0000; you understand if you’re not producing that regularly you have nothing because all of that is going to go away anyway. And if you gave yourself away you have nothing.

IRT: In the press release I got from Blue Note there was a quote where you were talking about artists pushing the boundaries for their audiences and not for themselves, can you elaborate on this?

AH: Oh, they’re so obsessed with something new and like I was telling someone, you may have come up with something entirely new but if it has nothing to do with people, just the obsession to be different, then you’re not participatory anyway. I mean cause you know, you have a product or you’re trying to sell yourself as a genius. In other words, everyone has this genius phobia, where they want their work to be different, but their work has nothing to do with people. You know there are societies here, you know visions, where everyone can scratch each others back but then when you look at it being destructive and all and degenerate; you know but music is supposed to fit into society, not because to be an outcast. You know, and that’s not why people do things, you do things no matter if you like the way the government is going, but still do things in a competitive manner to try to appease the people. Because that’s all it’s about in society and society itself has a different way of easing the pressure of society itself on the people.

IRT: What artists come to mind when you think about people that are doing that nowadays?

AH: Well nowadays people are getting back to, but not to the point when I was a kid; I would go and hear Louis Armstrong and I didn’t enjoy it that much. But to the people who liked it, something important had happened. You know they left with something fulfilled and recently, that’s why this group has attracted me because it seems to have that potential where we can go out and please the people.

IRT: And you have shows coming up next week?

AH: Yea, March 1st through the 4th at Birdland.

IRT: You excited about that?

AH: Oh yea, any opportunity to perform. That’s why I feel that it’s important to keep myself. You know not keep myself to the point where a performance was nothing more than a gig. Try to make it something special and build from that point on. You know something for the people besides take their money. (laughter)

IRT: So you found out you were sick a couple of years ago?

AH: Oh yea, in Portugal, all a sudden I thought it was a heart attack. Fortunately for me we were coming back to the states the next day. To me the worst thing in the world one can do is to get sick and stay over there, if you have the chance to come back here and try get to the root of the problem. So the problem, I had a heart attack, and then you go through a series of tests and I found out that I have cancer. So I just have to deal with it and give myself…you know right now, the cancer in my lung is terminal, but it don’t have to be; it’s just a disease where if you have the money, you can keep yourself going indefinitely.

IRT: So it’s definitely terminal what you have?

AH: Oh, well lung cancer… well everything is terminal. It’s a terminal life. So approaching it like that, that’s why I make each performance so good because there are still unanswered questions to be addressed that one really wouldn’t even consider if everything was allegedly normal. So that brings up the question of what is music really supposed to be? Is it supposed to be something that brings one notoriety or is it supposed to be something where one relieves the people?

IRT: Something that you just put out there…

AH: For people, rather than one image that one is trying to create of ones self which is unimportant the next day, because all of us in society we’re just part of something that’s come before us and that will go on after us. So we just take our little stick, like a relay race, and take it to next point and then someone will take it from there.

IRT: Would you say you feel a sense of urgency to put out as much as you can?

AH: Well no, but just to utilize time more effectively. Because you can put a lot of stuff out and it’s just junk. You know try to have a product where it has what it’s supposed to have, like feelings and such and such something. Like you said earlier, where people can pick up a record a month from now and still have the desire to pick it up… something lasting.

IRT: Well I have to say that your whole catalog of music is something I feel will be lasting for a long time from now.

AH: Oh bless your heart. It has… withstood the test of time. You know being a call back at this point, you know, look how lucky I am. I was just lucky enough to get the Playboy award and so many different awards and such…

IRT: Any unreleased gems like “Passing Ships,” that had never got released, that we can look forward to?

AH: Well they rediscovered “From California with Love,” that was, John Sinclair, when he had his Artist’s House. So he released part of it…but two or three discs that he has that have never been issued that they have… they are getting ready to put out. (Scheduled to be released 10/06 on Mosaic Records as Mosaic Select 23) But it’s not that much, there was a company called Test of Time records… they make me sorry I didn’t do more in a commercial way because now they’re looking under a rock for things that were done and there aren’t too many because I protected myself too well. Now for some reason it looks like almost anything out there, if there was, would be good. There would be a market for. But it’s not that much, all that’s been covered.

IRT: So besides jazz, what non-jazz music has influenced you?

AH: Oh so much. I grew up in the times of the movies, where you had the big movie productions, where almost all the classical composers were writing for the movies. Jazz was important, it was the music of my youth, I grew up and it was the popular music. In a regular situation you can hear various artists, Lester Young, all of them coming out of these various apartments, but then there were places to jam. So that got more attention, but then the shifting harmonies and stuff, but you had the movies too and had all these dynamic harmonic scorers. There was so much music in there and then as one becomes more sophisticated even in their selection, they become a recordphile…then you learn about Bartok and different things. So you have all of these influences then when you get to a certain age you just follow them according to their form, you know but there are so many…you’re not just contained oneself to a small music called jazz. You know it’s big, but it’s still small because for a reason, I used to try to fit things into different areas but then I tried to deconstruct this image of myself as this renasonce man…just for well I intended to get before the people as one gets older, at least me, I’m quick to say, this is hype. This is hype and this is hype. But then what I don’t say, is when I was coming through the reigns and stuff is how I was part of the hype. (laughter) You know so I like the separation and not realizing where I am, you know even my thoughts about doing the string quartet. You know that’s indicative of listening to other types of things. Because with string instruments you have to be better with writing everything down, you can’t leave anything to chance. I mean it’s a whole slew of string music I’m listening to. And for the big band you have Maria Snider, so many different people, Sarah Jones, Mel Lewis…I opened myself up to all the old big band charts because it’s all there.

IRT: You ever do any arranging for movies?

AH: I had an offer two or three times but I really wasn’t open enough to do it.

IRT: What’s your opinion on hip-hip?

AH: Well I have to be careful on that because I remember in the 80s I looked around and I said “oh, young people are out,” because usually with jazz, up until that point, you had all these various generations…you would always have young people. But then there was no young people and then I start looking back and I said, “it was the period of break dancing and hip hop.” So that was a period when people became environmentally handicapped. You know where they problems and such and such where they couldn’t buy musical instruments. And they had a break with society itself where certain things were re-established…you know like the basic fundamentals of rhythm and monotone, but then as to a byproduct of fusion. Fusion really in a sense really opened the door to those who didn’t want to go through that door where to win awards. In other words to reflect the history in other areas.

IRT: It was also a byproduct of taking music out of the schools.

AH: Oh, well they took the music out of everything, there used to be community centers that changed into daycare center as people started to work. So that’s why I say today is better than maybe it has been in twenty years, because with them streaming music in, the people who are conscious … they can just stream this music as a chance to evolve themselves.

IRT: We can only hope it goes more in that direction.

AH: Well it seems to be, it’s really amazing.

IRT: Right even when I got into jazz, before they had all the internet sites to download from, you had to rely on reviews or taking a chance on buying something or through friends that would buy records.

AH: And that’s expensive.

IRT: It’s real expensive.

AH: And this way, it costs you to download, but there is so much material there is no need, I mean I can’t think for anyone else but there is a lot of material where one can easily catch up and want to understand one thing they can go back…just to have that opportunity without having to spend a fortune is amazing.

IRT: Your new album is probably up on iTunes and all those sites.

AH: I don’t know. Well that’s the good part about being with a big company and it’s been their project. They put as much muscle into it as they can to get as much out of it as they can.

CONEY ISLAND LOW

Check out this YouTube of an old promo film of Coney Island back in 1952, and mourn the impending murder of the most storied Amusement Park/Beach in American history at the hands of greedy developers who are slowly but surely killing off the only New York I have known for 34 years in the name of somebody’s idea of progress.  Not mine, though pal:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r9I31TcyacY

RH

Farewell Vonnegut

I know by now that the death of Kurt Vonnegut is old news and, as a nation, we are in the midst of dealing with a national tragedy in Virginia, but it would be a shame for the IRT not to give a nod to the cantankerous funnyman who was one of America’s leading literary figures and intellectuals. My fondest memory of Vonnegut’s writing was discovering Cat’s Cradle on the nine hour flight home from Hawaii in 2003. I went to attend the wedding of a college friend (they are divorced now which is a story for another blog). Reuniting with my college friends really brought the novel’s concept of karass (keeping it simple – a karass is a group of people –at least 2- who are brought together more or less by fate for a particular reason) into focus. In a long interview with Rolling Stone last summer Vonnegut said that what he wanted written on his tombstone was “music is all I need as proof for the existence of God”. Hope you are hearing some great tunes where you are, old soul.