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#jazz records
stackroom · 1 year
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Charlie Parker, Miles Davis, Charles Mingus, Dizzy Gillespie...
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vinylrecordslps · 5 hours
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breaking-noose · 6 months
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Jazz (and classical) album cover arts by Japanese American graphic designer Sadamitsu Neil Fujita. He was the head designer for Columbia Records.
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Theresa’s Sound World: Vinyl Hold
Band leader: Milt Jackson
12’’ Vinyl Album: (Pablo Live) Montreux ‘77
Label: Pablo
Year of Recording: 1977
Genre/s: Jazz; Post-Bop; Avant Garde
▶️Listen to Album: https://youtu.be/RVaMvNhjZJQ?si=EVwZITVM8lbznhXU
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timmurleyart · 7 months
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Jazz sax (V.2)🟣🟢🎷🎵(mixed media collage)🎶
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saydesole · 3 months
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Vinyl Records 🎶
Music is the most beautiful thing in the world 🫶🏽
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bluerosefox · 5 months
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A Fair Warning
It was only a matter of time, and a long awaited and well deserved comeuppance, when Joker tried to hurt the wrong person or people.
Not everyone was going to play his games like 'Batsy' does. Not everyone will hesitate or let him live should he put his hands on someone to hurt them. Not everyone will believe Arkham could 'fix' him, he just needed more time and help.
No.
This time Joker bit off more than he could chew when he kidnapped the newly hired Arkham psychiatrist Jasmine Fenton (and he had plans, so many plans, for her. With her mixture of Harley's mind and her looks matching Gordon's daughter would sure to cause some chaos and pain in memories) and the girl's visiting sister Danielle 'Ellie' (and did he laugh when he noticed the 'Wayne' adoptive looks the girl had, on the fun he'll have, maybe he'll beat her the way he beat the second Robin just for funzie's, it'll no doubt upset Batman) from Jasmine's apartment.
He had plans to keep the Bats guessing where he was and by the time they reach him it'll be far to late for them to save either of the two girls, he had just sent the little video he taped to the Bats and the police to get the ball rolling...
So...
So why did a shiver run down his spine for the first time in years when they both looked unafraid (it was their eyes that made him shiver, a look of already dead yet somehow alive, something he never seen before. He's seen the light fade from people's eyes before yes, he's even laughed as he watch people desperately cling onto life only for it to fade into nothing as they took a final breath but never have he seen someone, something alive yet dead at the same time before. It, their eyes, held a natural yet unnatural sense as they stared at him, stared at everything that made him Joker and it unnerved him), honestly they looked very bored, and one of them (the youngest of the two, and the one with more of the look of death than life in their eyes) said with a chill tune in their tone.
"Last chance to back out of this Freakshows Reject. You wont like what'll be waiting for you."
The tone alone was enough to send another bone deep chill down Joker's spine.
But instead of listening to his natural instincts, the deep inkling of run blaring at him, Joker merely placed a grin on his face, ignoring the strain he felt from doing so, and said as nastily as he could in order to scare the two girls (BOTH OF THEM STILL LOOKED BORED WITH HIM?!?! Not even a twitch of fear!)
"OH? And pray tell what is awaiting little ol' me hum?"
His mocking question got a wide feral grin from the smaller girl, a grin with sharp teeth and iris eyes beginning to bleed slowly from sky blue to neon green with each second he stared at her and he barely stopped himself from jumping in his spot when Jasmine answered his question.
"Your end."
-x-x-
By the time the Bats get to the warehouse Joker had taken Dr. Jasmine 'Jazz' Fenton and Danielle 'Ellie' Fenton they were prepared for anything and everything to go wrong. As much as they held the tiniest bit of hope that the two young women were still okay they knew better than to really do, this was the Joker that had them after all.
They had manged to narrow down his location much quicker than normal when they gotten Joker's first video and his little 'game' he was setting the Bats on, most locations he gave them were going to be red herrings or traps to keep them busy and it would had worked. Batman and the others would had been searching for hours for even a hint of the clue of where the Joker and his hostages were actually being kept.
It was nearly, not really, a shame all of Joker's plans went to waste when Red Hood had stumbled onto something when scooping out Jasmine's apartment with Red Robin.
You see, not only were they looking for clues at first but something about the apartment Jasmine rented seemed off, Red Robin noticed it first and called in back up encase there was more to oldest Fenton than what they could dig up (oldest daughter of Dr's. Jackson and Madeline Fenton, grew up in a small Illinois town, straight A student and a goal to become a psychologist, has two younger siblings, etc etc) and their suspension raised up more when the moment Red Hood entered the apartment and seemed to freeze for a moment.
Red Hood couldn't really explain it but he said it felt like something was... strange. Not evil bad danger strange but it felt familiar? Like he was a kid again on the streets and had walked into someone else's territory but knew the person wouldn't be too much of a hardass about it as long as he didn't stur up trouble or disrespect. A kind of... as long as you don't fuck around you won't find out feeling.
It was because of this feeling that Jason had manged to stumble across something in the room, his instincts telling him there was more to it, and they had discovered a clunky old custom PDA hidden away in a false floorboard in the office room. Thankfully Red Robin, was there in person because the old thing apparently had a rather ingenious firewall to keep others (aka Hackers) OUT but it did nothing against someone who held the main thing.
But still it took Red Robin almost frying the damn thing to get to open up, turns out the ghost and star stickers on the PDA was a rather large hint of the pass code. Once Red Robin was in the PDA he noticed some rather interesting files, one of them labeled "Gremlin Tracking" with a tiny green blob with red eyes and a green outlined star as the icons.
Curiosity taking a hold on the most curious of the Bats he opened it up, hoping it would need another password, and watched as the screen split into two maps, one was... strange, there was no land marks or anything but the star icon seemed to be right in the middle of wherever it was and the only hint of anything was the name "baby brother" and the map labeled as IR.
The other one showed an above map of Gotham, before zooming into the city, heading towards some abandoned warehouses Red Robin knew of and stopped right at one. This was the green blob icon, the short abbreviation for Gotham in the corner of the map, and the name for the icon was 'baby sister'
Red Robin immediately got onto coms to tell the others of what apparently was a tracker for Jasmine's younger siblings. Some questioned why the young woman had trackers on her siblings, though some of the others snarked back that "oh didn't know keeping trackers on each other wasn't normal. Mind if I loose the one you got on me than?"
After a quick sweep into the warehouses camera feeds, the very few up that could be accessed, done by Oracle they quickly discovered that yes the tracking on the younger girl of the two, Danielle Fenton, was correct and that was where they and Joker were at.
Despite this, Batman decided that in order to make sure Joker didn't have suspicion that they already know his actual location he made sure to send a few of the others to the fake locations.
So here they were now, staking out the warehouse where they could see a few of the Jokers goons walking around and looking for a way into the building without alerting any of them. As they talked low into coms, Robin mentioning a possible way in for Red Robin by how small it was, Red Robin hissing back a "just because you got a growth spurt doesn't mean you can poke fun at my height you little-"
"Wait!" Red Hood suddenly hissed shouted, his tone startling the rest of them and they all turned their heads to him. Batman made a quick and harsh grunt as a way to say "report."
Under his helmet Jason's eyes were wide and wild. He could feel something, something huge was on the rise, like something was out of sight but the energy of it was felt.
And if Jason could feel it from his spot, the Jokers goons all felt the same thing from the way they all dropped their weapons, turned toward the warehouse and looked ready to bolt like scared animals.
Jason opened his mouth to explain but fell silent when the feeling suddenly popped. Whatever was causing the feeling was here and like the calm before the storm he could only watch as the first drop of rain fall.
The next thing they know, was the noise and the screaming.
It was inhuman, a mixture of noise and sounds to hard to explain. The closest they could explain was a thousand voices coming in all at once mixing with radio static that kept changing volume so only few words could be even hinted at, and the angry cawing of crows along with the flapping of their wings as they took flight. The noise was so bad that many who heard it nearly ripped their coms out, or covered their ears. Thankfully it only lasted a few seconds.
Then, the air itself shifted. It felt like the coldest of winter nights and bone chilling shivers ran down their bodies for a moment. The air was suddenly that sharp cold that hurt to breathe sometimes.
The goons surrounding the warehouse fled in fear. Many scrambling to get far, far away from whatever was happening. If they felt even a fraction of what Jason could feel, he could understand. He honestly felt like a small animal cornered by a predator and there was no escape.
Then just as suddenly as it happened, everything shifted again. The noise of Gotham returned to normal, cars honking, a stray cat hissing or a dog barking, police sirens in the distance, hissing steam from a nearby factory. The air went from winter cold to a chill mid winter harbor feel now.
Once everyone registered what had just happened and not wanting to waste anymore time they bolted towards the warehouse, cautious and alert in case they needed to fight. Batman went in first, quickly making his way to the area he knew Joker would be with the Fenton sisters and wondered just what the fuck was that? Did Joker do something? Was he messing with things outside of his usual MO?!
He walked into the room and stopped.
There was nothing.
The room was in fact the room Joker had used to record his first message to them, the layout was correct and the evidence of two people who had been tied up were still there as well, ropes that weren't cut sitting on them, a lone lamp light above shining down from above no doubt to emphasize the two girls were meant to be the 'stars' of Jokers latest show. Thing was, the two weren't there despite the fact Oracle swore she could see them a few mins ago from a camera set up in the room, she would later explain that she heard the noise as well and that all her tech had glitched hard.
The only other thing in the room was, sitting innocently on one of the chairs was a green sticky note and on a tiny pillow was a tiny sickly green orb with hints of purple, white, and red swirling in it.
A note they would later read the following message written on it after carefully examining it over.
'Joker learned not to touch what is mine to protect. Sorry not sorry, but hey one less killer clown and he was warned not my fault he didn't take it seriously... The massive amount of souls wanting to rip apart the Joker's soul into nothing was quite a sight to be honest.
They were so ruthless. Best not mess with the vengeful dead am I right?
PS. I left a tiny gift for Jason Todd aka Robin Two. It's the tiniest piece of Joker's soul left over after everyone else got done. He can finish it off since he's a reverent and all, and well they need their revenge filled in order to peacefully move on later or else they'll be stuck forever in a loop of madness and revenge. So yeah. Hope he likes the gift.'
D.P.'
It took Jason less than a second after those words were spoken out to reach for the orb, ignoring the cautious and alarmed cries of the others, and could feel deep, deep, deep in his own soul the absolute pure weeping joy as he threw the orb onto the floor, the bottom shattering thus it didn't roll away and stomped hard with his reinforced boots. Crushing the broken orb into more pieces and if one listened closely they could hear the pure screaming terror that came from it.
And Jason for the first time in years felt his rage finally leave him.
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samarajoysings · 5 months
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hey y’all! we wrapped up the holiday tour this week with our final show last night in Maryland! Here’s a little bit about what my travel routine has been like this month ✨
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sjnjournal · 2 months
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Billie Holiday with her boxer Mister, listening to some records, likely Jazz, 1945.
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gilbirda · 10 months
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More than Jazz as a psychiatric I see her as a Social Worker that focuses on Children and Family.
Leaving the plot aside, Jazz may have had the CPS visit her home (or never) and saw how the system failed her and her brother, who ended dead.
She could still study psychology and focus to get a degree in children welfare (or whatever is called) to help children out of abusive/neglectful families.
And then I introduce you "social worker Jazz Fenton Nightingale meet crime lord/children defender red hood"
You are SO RIGHT and actually I had an idea like that written down.... somewhere.
Basically social worker Jazz tries to fix the system from the inside etc etc etc and becomes trusted contact for Red Hood to properly relocate the kids and help them recover.
Everyone knows about Ms. Fenton. That Hood approves of her, that she will always have warm food and a blanket, no questions asked.
And that she would fist fight anyone if they try anything funny with the kids under her protection.
Even Batman.
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obsessedwithstarwars · 7 months
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Danny: sticking snacks in the wall
Jazz: “Nuh-uh. You are not putting that in the wall.”
Danny: What?
Jazz: Your snack. Eat it now or seal it up and decontaminate it.
Danny: I want to save it for later. It’ll be a midnight snack.
Jazz: That’s fine. Just not in the wall, and it needs to be decontaminated first.
Danny: Why?
Jazz: Out of sight out of mind. Do you remember what happened the last time you put one of those in the wall?
Danny: What? Pssh. N-no. No I don’t remember anything. Nothing happened a-and I got to eat yummy snacks.
Jazz: Oh really? You don’t remember? Let me refresh it for you. Your snack became sentient, tore a hole through the drywall, and started attacking us. At 2am. We lost our security deposit.
Danny: The landlord couldn’t prove anything! They didn’t even show up on the security cameras!
Jazz: pointed look
Danny: sigh Fine. I’m hungry now anyway.
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detroitlib · 10 days
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From our stacks: "Many libraries have record collections for the public to enjoy. In fact, borrowing records is becoming almost as popular as borrowing books." From What Happens at the Library by Arthur Shay. Chicago: Reilly & Lee Books, 1971.
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kecobe · 10 months
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Nancy Wilson on Hollywood Boulevard, 1963 Photo: © Ken Veeder/Capitol Photo Archives
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staygolden-ponyboy · 5 months
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timmurleyart · 2 years
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Boogie woogie. 🎹🎺(mixed media collage)🎵
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dewdropdinosaur · 2 months
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Hazbin Having Blues
ALASTOR x READER
Summary: You and Alastor hate each other in every respect. But what if something did help you get along?
Warnings: NONE.
This is kind of a backstory for my fic 'Only for You' based on the line "how you get got along in the first place" and inspired by @anon-of-the-void
Requests are still open!!!
The Hazbin Hotel was a bustling haven for lost souls seeking redemption, but amidst the chaos and colorful characters, a particularly unique dynamic brewed between Alastor, the Radio Demon, and the new arrival…you. 
The animosity between you and Alastor was palpable since day one, with every interaction echoing with sharp, witty remarks that cut through the air like daggers.The constant banter between you both created an uncomfortable atmosphere within the hotel, much to the dismay of the optimistic and ever-hopeful Charlie. Despite the young Moringstar’s best efforts to foster a sense of unity and camaraderie, the stalemate in this war of words persisted.  Alastor, with his charismatic and devilish charm, found himself enjoying to harp down upon what he saw to be a gross naivety and unmannerly conduct. Meanwhile, you were a soul unafraid to stand up to the radio demon's antics, viewing him as nothing more than a pompous and insufferable presence. 
Simply, Alastor and yourself had developed a fierce dislike for each other. The verbal sparring matches were legendary within the walls of the hotel, often leaving other residents uncomfortable and seeking refuge from the bickering.
Insulting conversations include but are not limited to: 
“Well, well, if it isn't the radio demon himself. Did you run out of jazz records to torture people with?” “Ah, my dear, I always save the best tunes for special occasions. Unlike your taste in humor.”
“Look who decided to join the conversation. Are you here to dazzle us with your sparkling personality?” “Better than your attempt at a fashion statement. Monochromatic stripes, Al? Even Hell has standards.”
“Heard you like to play games, Alastor. How about a round of ‘Guess What My Expression Means’?” “My, my, how thrilling. I'll start: my face means I'm thoroughly unimpressed by your attempts at banter.”
“You know, Y/N, they say laughter is the best medicine. Too bad it can't cure your lack of charm.” “And they say pride goes before a fall. How's the weather down there, high and mighty?”
One evening, however, something changed.
As Alastor wandered the halls, his keen senses picked up on a faint sound emanating from your room. The unmistakable notes of a trumpet played with soulful precision, and a voice as smooth as molasses crooned lyrics that resonated with a timeless elegance. Intrigued, Alastor pressed his ear against the door. Deciding that was not enough, he slunk into the shadows and appeared in the room behind you. 
Inside, you sat alone(you thought you were alone at least) immersed in the soothing melodies of Louis Armstrong's "West End Blues." and Etta James “Bye Bye Blackbird” on LPs for the record player you had thrifted. The soulful and jazzy tunes seemed to transport you to another world, away from the chaos of the hotel. Unbeknownst to you, Alastor found himself captivated by the same enchanting spell. 
Alastor found himself captivated by the soulful notes. He couldn't help but appreciate the musical talent behind the song. He couldn't deny the care and emotion woven into each note, and for the first time, Alastor recognized something within you that transcended the ongoing feud. That something he wasn’t quite sure what it was but it was…different. Yes, the songs had come out in 1928 and 1926 respectively, he was alive when they graced the radio waves for the first time. Often finding himself tapping along to a beat in Mimzy’s lounge back then. How did you come to know something of such class when he found you to be a peasant in most respects? 
But instead of announcing his presence with a snide remark, Alastor leaned against the doorframe, silently appreciating the moment. When the final notes faded away, he couldn't help but admit with a slow clap, "Not bad, Y/N. Not bad at all."
You, startled by his unexpected appearance, yelped and eyed him suspiciously. "What are you doing in my room, radio head?!"
Alastor smirked, his usual air of arrogance softened by a newfound appreciation. "Just thought I'd acknowledge the good taste when I hear it. That Armstrong fellow knows how to play a mean trumpet."
Raising an eyebrow, you were surprised by the change in tone. "Yeah…what about it?"
“Nothing my dear, simply acknowledging. You may not be such a ducky afterall.” Slinking back into the shadows, Alastor disappeared as quickly as he had come. 
You were taken aback but managed a nod of acknowledgment. The tension between the two of you began to ease as Alastor, in his own peculiar way, had found common ground through music. 
From that day forward, the interactions shifted. While the witty banter persisted, there was a newfound respect lingering in the air, as if the shared appreciation for timeless jazz classics had bridged an unexpected connection between two souls trapped in the chaotic tapestry of the Hazbin Hotel.
Over time, the insults became less frequent, replaced by a begrudging mutual respect. The other residents were astounded by the change, especially Charlie, who believed her intervention had led to a surprising connection between two seemingly incompatible souls.(My apologies dear Morningstar, trust falls and all…simply not the case.)
As Alastor and you had found a shared appreciation for music, discovering that beneath demonic exteriors, there was more to each other than met the eye. Alastor often found himself up in his radio tower, listening to the jazzy tunes he knew would draw you in. And like a very good little pet, as he liked to call you, you would climb the stairs and sit next to him in silence. Listening and tapping your foot along to the beat, only to leave a few hours later. As the time went on, a few weeks or so, conversation slowly filtered into the listening sessions. Turns out…maybe both of your distastes for each other might not have completely founded. Not that you would ever admit that to his face, nor him to yours.  
The Hazbin Hotel, once filled with discord, became a place where even the most unlikely friendships could blossom. And maybe, just maybe dear reader, that friendship could be something more. Alastor did look good in monochromatic stripes anyway. 
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