#round midnight playing the saxophone

[adirtnap]

special interest time! (this is a part of the Get @brisling To Like Jazz project because i hope narrativizing it makes it more fun lmao, but i'll post it for u all too)

our friend richard earlier showed me jazz musician Bill Evans' album Conversations With Myself

listen to this first. to the piano the entire time, even when charlie rouse is playing good saxophone. sometimes the pianist gets up and watches. just until the end of the piano solo. (the drum solo is cool and the bass solo is ELITE but)

(also, that was my favorite jazz recording ever.)

then, this, for only a sec at the beginning. this is how the song goes actually

finally this!

it feels like Song Criticism. I mean criticism in the way that Anton Ego means it when he eats the rat's ratatouille.

bill evans plays like this. he plays beautifully

he was the pianist on the most important jazz record, Kind of Blue.

he was a flautist and plays piano like it's a woodwind. it's soft and technical and so so beautiful.

thelonious monk plays like you've just heard. he is a weird-ass pianist. he plays… wholly uniquely? it's ragtime based i hear. he may have invented bebop (the most popular and enduring jazz idiom). even if that's not the whole truth, he's why jazz uses 9th chords so much. he used to hang out at a bar with charlie parker and dizzy gillespie and he was better than any other pianist that would come to try and play. he's probably the most-covered jazz musician because he wrote so many good songs. his music is also Singular, and people hated it. miles davis (the famousest) was KNOWN for hating his playing. you can hear on bags' groove, miles told him to never play (the pianist's role is harmony under the solo) while miles was playing.

every time someone else plays a monk song, it's kind of apologetic. like, well yeah it's a beautiful composition, but i wish it weren't so bizarre with those weird plunky notes and wholetone scales. we're just going to play the melody, because THAT'S beautiful. it always feels a little like theft.

(beautiful song, but i dislike it)

BUT bill evans is taking the song on its own terms! he's using the song to say, listen to THIS SONG. (and also to say, look at what a sick pianist i am)

after the intro, he does the melody in a monk impression first. on one hand it's a flex to play like monk, but on the other it's weird to do, it's weird to hear a song that exists in everyone's imagination as melody-and-chord-symbols played like its composer would play it. and he kind of… unravels it

he plays a minor third and you're like, aw shit that's a monk quote! and then he plays it again and you're like oh that is. literally just the blues. (this is the blues:

) and then you think, i have learned something about why thelonious monk plays like that.

there's a section where he just does normal bebop chord comps and a normal walking bassline, like he's pretending to be a backing band. that too is monk.

it's commentary and contextualization, but even better is the bill-evansisms there too, the things far too soft and too thin for monk to ever play. the guy yes-ands the song, he sharpens corners that famouser musicians (miles. chick corea) try to polish down.

anyway, it's a good song. (you don't gotta read all of that though)

[triplesilverstar]

Day 10

Rating: Explicit 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Fae Midvalley X F!Reader

CW:  Penis in vagina sex, Fae tricks, fingering, sex in the park, partial clothed, slight voyeurism, grinding

Word count: 3109

A/N: Day 10, Walking home from work late at night you hear music coming from the park. As much as you try to ignore it something about the tunes draws you towards the source of such beautiful sounds.

Shivering in the damp air as you walked home you regretted the thin coat you had on, and the fact that when your boss had asked you to stay later because someone hadn’t shown up for their shift and you had agreed. At the time when he offered you the extra six hours at double pay, it was hard to turn it down, you had bills to pay and every little bit helped. 

Now closer to midnight, or the witching hour as your old grandpappy would say you sorely regretted agreeing to stay. Barely another soul out and about at this time of night as you made your way home under the street lights lining the road near the park that could provide you a straight shot to your apartment complex on the other side. 

This time of night you wanted to avoid the park itself, however as tempting as it would be to cut through the park instead of around it you just wanted to avoid the risk. Instead adding almost a full twenty minutes to your walk. 

Another tremor of your frame as more of the cool night air invaded the area between your body and coat, the material too flimsy to keep the chill at bay. Teeth almost chattering in your skull, you pause head turning towards the park.

Was that a saxophone you heard? 

Giving your head a shake you start walking forward again, you had to have been hearing things. Until the smooth melody reached your ears once more. Peering into the darkness you frowned, why would someone be playing in the park in the middle of the night? Sure during the day made sense when the musicians could have their cases open for people to throw cash in, but right now? 

As another powerful yet mellow song started, you found your feet leading you into the dark treeline. Using your ears to follow the sound, unaware as the lights from the street slowly faded as if swallowed up by something sinister the farther you went. 

Leaning against an Oak tree you see him, dressed in a crisp suit with one foot behind him so his knee is at an angle bent over his instrument. The round yet complex sound has you fully enraptured, you aren’t sure you’ve ever heard something so powerful before. It’s then he looks upwards, with his slicked-back hair and piercing cool eyes your heart seems to freeze in your chest. 

Those eyes seem as though they look right through you and peer directly into your soul, watching you for the smallest movement and it makes a shiver run down your spine for an entirely different reason. 

His lips are still on the mouthpiece of his instrument and his long fingers moving, the fabric of his double-breasted suit jacket seemingly ready to rip at the seams with the way his chest expands. Something in his uncanny gaze made your feet move as if of their own accord, stepping over a few mushrooms. 

Those unnatural piercing eyes seem to flicker, a hint of a grin on his face as you move a little closer, and a little closer, until you’re close enough to make out the lines along his face, carved into the muscles from having been wrapped around his instrument for so long. 

Letting his song come to a close, his plump lips finally removed from his instrument and his voice is like velvet against your eardrums. “I wasn’t planning on providing a free show tonight.” 

While his words take you aback, his low voice does something to your lower body. “I’m sorry, the sound was very alluring.” It had been, and even now something is still keeping you rooted to the spot. “I have some money.” You offer watching him close his eyes and chuckle, lifting the strap of his instrument from his neck and placing it inside a case you hadn’t seen until now. 

“What if I say I’m not interested in money?” He’s even closer to you now, inches away from your body and the cloying scent of flowers is reaching your nose, making you feel a little woozy. Something about him is sending off warning bells, but you’re far too enraptured in everything about him to pay heed to the primal section of your brain. 

“I don’t have anything else to offer.” Looking up into those eyes of his, you think you see another shift as his smile widens. 

“I think you do. What if I said I wanted a kiss? To feel your lips on me?” His breath washes over your face this close and you rub your thighs together. What harm is there in a kiss?

“Just a kiss?” Your voice has gone soft, blinking softly up at him and letting out a noise of gratification as his warm palm cups your cheek. Nuzzling against his hand should leave you embarrassed but it doesn’t, it just makes you feel a little warmer for some reason. 

“That’s all” he whispers, a wide leg between yours and more of his chest pressed to your body, tilting his face and putting his lips to the shell of your ear. “Do we have a deal?” 

The way his voice drops on the final word makes your core clench, his proximity to your body making you warm the chill that had been invading your body earlier gone. You don’t hesitate to answer him. “Yes.” 

One simple word. 

Who knew it could be so damning. 

Almost as soon as the word was past your lips, his mouth was against yours demanding in the way the plush tissue moved eliciting a moan from you. Passion built in the way he pulled you flush against him, and your clit throbbed almost painfully with the way your core rubbed against his thigh. Your hands land on his chest, with nowhere else to go as he takes control of the kiss.

One hand on the back of your neck the other gripping your butt and using it to slide your body the way he wanted against him, feeling a warmth building in your belly. His tongue glides along your lower lip, begging for permission to deepen the kiss and you part your lips letting him in. The taste of honey on your tongue as he swirled his against yours, his hand moving from the nape of your neck higher and into your hair gripping it and keeping your mouth flush with his. 

The longer the kiss goes the more bruising it becomes, and your lungs start to burn while his tongue is tracing the inside of your mouth, sweeping into every part of it while you feel lightheaded. Trying to push him away as the sensations become too much for you, gasping as he does move away letting you suck in some much-needed air.  “Some kiss” you pant after a while, this eerie stranger still moving you along his thigh and your panties are starting to grow moist. 

A low chuckle, as he shifts your hips so your pussy is grounded into a little harder making you mewl in response. “It was. Good thing we’ve just gotten started.” 

“You said just a kiss.” The confusion grows on your face as your eyebrows furrowed together, you’ve kissed him already, how are you just getting started?

“I did, to feel your lips on me.” Those piercing eyes staring into yours with their paleness making your cunt throb at how intense they are. “I never meant the lips on your face.” You feel like a deer caught in the headlights as your eyes widen and he laughs with enough force his body rolls with the effort of it. “Silly little human, you should make sure you understand a deal with the Fae before you accept." 

What? Part of your mind scrambling, you remember old stories about the Fae folks and their tricks that your Grandpappy also told you. He's one of them? If that's true you are in for so much more than you thought. 

“Now now little one, don’t worry too much I promise we’ll both enjoy this, It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed the warmth of a human.” All the while that you’ve been panicking he’s kept moving your hips so your core has been sliding along his thigh. Your arousal is still evident as the wetness seeping from your core has started to soak through to your pants and onto his leg. 

“I..” You start before stopping, watching him give you a toothy smile and close your mouth. You don’t need to make this worse by agreeing to more unspoken terms with this trickster. 

Besides, at this point, you don’t remember the last time you got lucky and this Fae man isn’t hard on the eyes. Sliding your hands up his chest and around the back of his neck you move to initiate the kiss this time, nipping at his lower lip and feeling his grin grow before he takes the lead. Pulling your lower lip into his mouth and sucking on it, making you moan and jerk your hips against his thigh as your fingers card through his hair. 

With your interest renewed it’s almost as if he knows he doesn’t need to keep his hand at the back of your head to keep you pressed against him, given that you’ve taken to actively grinding against his leg it shouldn’t be that surprising. Instead, he runs those surprisingly soft digits down your neck in a caress, lower and lower over the fabric of your jacket and palming one of your breasts through the thin material. 

“I want this barrier gone.” His lips are still against yours and the breath from both of you mingling between the miniscule space. Slipping one hand from his hair you’re quick to undo the zipper of your coat pushing away and sighing as his hand moves to the hem of your shirt pushing it up and out of the way so he can grasp the glob of flesh still hidden from view by your bra. You don’t vocalize your own request, just place your fingers on the top button of his suit. “You can undo the suit and shirt, I did say I wanted this barrier gone.” 

With quick fingers on your one hand, you unsnap the buttons on his outer layer before working on the smaller ones of the cotton shirt stretched across his chest, and when you reach the last one you tug on the fabric freeing it from his pants. His pale skin is smooth and unblemished and while you would have preferred a bit of hair to run your fingers through you aren’t complaining at the bulk that had been unveiled. 

While you had been admiring his chest as it was revealed to you he had been busy pushing the cups of your bra down so your tits were hanging out. The fingers of the hand not on your hip ghosting over your pebbling flesh. His mouth was now on the side of your neck, licking and sucking at the sensitive flesh occasionally dragging the sharp teeth you hadn’t noticed before now. 

“You have such nice boobs, just the right size and heavy I could play with them all night.” Punctuating his words with a pinch to one of your nipples while your own fingers are tracing patterns along his abdomen, his skin warm beneath your touch and some of the muscles spasming in response. “I’m more interested in another part of you, however.” 

Another pinch to your nipple before dragging his fingers down your belly, dipping a finger into your belly button which sends a pulse to your core making your muscles tighten. His fingers still don’t stop, moving farther down until at the waistband of your pants. “You still owe me that kiss.” 

It’s almost ridiculous how his voice resonates in your ears, you haven’t forgotten not by a long shot. Pressing your chest hard against his and dragging both hands through his hair as you suck on his lower lip pulling a moan from him this time. Dragging your nails against his scalp as you try to bring your body even closer to his rubbing your breasts and chasing some friction similar to your pussy as you keep grinding a damp spot having formed on his pants at this point from the moisture now pouring from your core. 

Humming in your throat as his fingers dip beneath the edge of your pants and touch the skin still encased in the fabric. Grunting as he pulls his mouth away and removes his hand from your pants to grip your hips and lift you off his leg working quickly to unfasten the button and drag the zipper down before shoving his hand back inside and under your panties. 

“Such lovely wet folds, then again I did tell you we’d both enjoy this.” Flicking his fingers between your pussy lips and his knuckles taping a tempo against your clit. With your feet level on the ground and unable to buck any part of your body against his, the one hand on your hip stopping you from moving. 

Again you refuse to open your mouth to utter any words, just whine at being denied any friction and the chill seeping in along your bare skin hands sliding down his neck to his shoulders. 

“You can put your hand in my pants, and see what your lips are going to kiss soon.” You’ve never moved your hands so quickly, pulling his pants apart and slipping your hand into his underwear. Panting as you feel how thick his cock os your fingers are just able to wrap around him while he’s working a single digit inside your cunt twisting it around. “Good girl, you’ll feel so good wrapped around me.” 

Pressing his nose to your face to get you to look up so he can slip his tongue into your mouth again, moving it in time to his finger and curling it teasing your insides. It hits you out of nowhere, as your walls flutter and you gasp the stranger stopping for a moment and watching your face as you cum on his lone finger. “Such a nice little pussy, so tight and sensitive.” His breath across your face makes you shiver before he presses a small kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

As you slowly come back to your senses, his hands are on your hips pushing your pants down over the curve of your thighs until they pool around your ankles. Shivering in the cool air as the mist seems to swirl around both of you his cock still warm under your hand. 

“Such a good girl you are.” One of his hands rubs circles into your thigh before moving from the outside to the inside and lifting your leg to place your knee over his hip. “Now pull down my pants and free what you’re going to kiss.” 

A blush overcame you almost like you're a virgin reminded of the wording from earlier once more as you tug his pants down just enough to let his cock spring free. Licking your lips as his other hand moves to grip his own length and press the head against your folds. Both of you watch as his tip presses in slowly disappearing into your tight heat. 

With shallow movements he slowly works more and more of himself into your cunt until he’s as far as he can go, the curly hairs at the base of his dick rubbing against your pussy lips. “Such a good girl, and such a nice kiss so warm and inviting.” Still teasing you, and you moan as your walls flutter around his twitching length. 

“Fuck me.” Your words, the first spoken since you told him yes, neither a request nor a demand to the Fae man but you watch his face shift trying to discern any hidden meaning. 

“Midvalley.” Grabbing your other leg and pulling it up so both your legs are draped over his and you're quickly wrapping your arms around his neck. “I expect you to say it the next time you cum.” 

It clicks, it’s his name. Something about names ringing in the back of your mind, a warning to never give your own. Lowering your head and sucking the side of his neck as he starts to thrust into you, fingers digging into your hips. He feels divine with the way he twitches as his cock rocks into you, hitting all the right places inside your slick walls. 

Whining against his flesh as he increases the speed ramming into you and the veins along his length pulsing against your G spot. “That’s it, good girl.” Tilting his face against the side of your head, his lower lip dragging along the skin at your temple as he pants. “You feel so good wrapped around me.” Another low whine while he moans having hit somewhere that you were seeing stars, squeezing his dick like your walls are a vice. Fingers digging harder into the meat of his shoulders, hips snapping, and using his hands so your own are meeting his allowing him to ram his cock into the deepest parts of you. Your mewling against his skin head tilting backward as your eyes start to roll into the back of your head, and you remember what he said as your orgasm washes over you. 

“Midvalley!” Your scream almost vibrates the misty air around the two of you in this secluded section of the park as you clamp down hard enough that he’s biting his lip enjoying the way your cunt is massaging his cock. As your pussy keeps spasming around him and your head slumps forward against his shoulder, turning his head to kiss the tip of your ear. 

Shifting his grip on you so one of his hands can reach up along your back and rubbing the ridges of your spine. “Good girl, such a good girl. Catch your breath and we’ll go again.” 

You moan in response, body too lax to answer. 

-Midvalley

The next morning you wake up in your apartment with no recollection of how you got home, just a soreness between your legs. On the way out you see a folded note tucked into the pocket of your flimsy coat from last night.

It was a good kiss, come find me again if you want another round.

Well at least you know it wasn’t a dream, and the next time you hear a saxophone playing in the park you find your feet leading you to the sound and a familiar figure. 

Back to list

[lboogie1906]

Dexter Gordon (February 27, 1923 – April 25, 1990) was a jazz tenor saxophonist, composer, bandleader, and actor. He was among the most influential early bebop musicians, which included other greats such as Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, and Bud Powell. His studio and performance career spanned more than 40 years.

He was known for inserting musical quotes into his solos, with sources as diverse as “Happy Birthday” and well-known melodies from the operas of Wagner. One of his major influences was Lester Young. He was an early influence on John Coltrane and Sonny Rollins. Rollins and Coltrane then influenced Gordon’s playing as he explored hard bop and modal.

He was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actor in a Leading Role for his performance in Round Midnight and he won a Grammy for Best Jazz Instrumental Performance, Soloist, for the soundtrack album The Other Side of Round Midnight. He had a cameo role in Awakenings. His album Go was selected by the Library of Congress for preservation in the National Recording Registry for being “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant”.

He was born in Los Angeles. His father, Dr. Frank Gordon, was one of the first African American doctors in Los Angeles. His mother, Gwendolyn Baker, was the daughter of Captain Edward Lee Baker, Jr. one of the five African American Medal of Honor recipients in the Spanish–American War.

He was a member of Lionel Hampton’s band, playing in a saxophone section alongside Illinois Jacquet and Marshal Royal. He was featured in the Fletcher Henderson band, followed by the Louis Armstrong band, before joining Billy Eckstine.

He was married to Fenway Gordon. He had six children and seven grandchildren. When he lived in Denmark, he became friends with the family of the future Metallica drummer Lars Ulrich and became Lars’s godfather. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[stupid-sloot-headcanons]

I wanted to try my hand at drawing one of my OC Stands and maybe their User too, for the ones I've thought about. Which one sounds most interesting?

https://twitter.com/purplenukacola1/status/1544757256893374465?t=uj97hURoCJnC_GAxBmph7g&s=19

(Stand explanations below)

[Frankenstein] As long as the user is playing music with Frankenstein activated, the user is able to reanimate the corpses of anything living and manipulate them to their own will. If the corpse is a full creature, it will follow the user's will. Frankenstein has taken the form of multiple instruments, including a keyboard, guitar, saxophone, and the user's singing voice a capella. User: Edith Winters

Frankenstein takes the form of a decal on the instrument being played by the user; this decal is of a hand wearing a spiked wristband, holding a globe in its hands. If the user is singing, it appears as a tattoo on their body. The user can choose where this tattoo/decal is displayed. (Minor villain)

[Thot Shit] A Stand that allows the user to literally weaponize their sexuality. When being viewed and desired sexually by someone, the User can influence the temperature of the immediate area being observed and can even cause objects and people nearby to spontaneously combust. The User is able to manipulate the flames caused from this effect, but they are not immune to the flames; this makes using Thot Shit in close range extremely risky. User: Sugar Stallion (villain turned main ally)

[Midnight Sky] The User is able to traverse through shadows and cause those shadows to become dense enough to pick up and use as armor or weapons. (ie. "Grabbing" the shadow cast by a ball being thrown and give it the weight of a shot put or ball-bearing). The shape of the shadow determines its best usage; for example, a ball or balloon would be round without sharp edges, whereas a lamppost shadow would take the shape of a long flat plank or the lamppost itself. This ability makes the user extremely dangerous in darkness, as they can travel long distances and have a near infinite supply of shadows to use. Bursts of light can briefly cause shadow constructs and weapons to disappear, and can prevent the User from traveling between shadows. User: Shy Lass (initial loner/antihero character, but eventual ally)

[Positive Contact] A humanoid Stand with a small retractable antenna tower that can sprout out of its head and be used as a communication relay through any device that uses radio waves or wi-fi. The User can remotely effect any device it broadcasts/gets a signal to by listening in on them and can utilize sonic waves to damage listeners by having waves of energy emanate from their listening device. The power behind the energy is proportionate to the size of the device (ie. A cell phone will cause less damage than a large wi-fi router, which will cause less damage than a car radio or loudspeaker system.) (Minor villain)

[brushandneedles]

Thelonious Monk: Architect of Jazz Innovation and Uniqueness

In the rich tapestry of jazz history, the name Thelonious Monk stands as a beacon of innovation, unpredictability, and sheer artistic brilliance. Born on October 10, 1917, in Rocky Mount, North Carolina, Monk emerged as one of the most influential figures in the world of jazz, leaving an indelible mark on the genre with his distinctive approach to composition and improvisation. Step into the enigmatic world of jazz with our Thelonious Monk-inspired T-shirts, a sartorial ode to the timeless eccentricity and musical genius of the legendary pianist.

Early Years and Musical Upbringing

Thelonious Sphere Monk's musical journey began in his early childhood. Raised in New York City, Monk's exposure to music came primarily through the church, where his mother, Barbara, served as the church organist. Monk's early interest in the piano was nurtured by his family, and by the age of 11, he had already begun to showcase his prodigious talent.

Innovations in Jazz Harmony and Rhythm

Monk's impact on jazz is perhaps most prominently felt in the realm of harmony. His unique approach to chord voicings and dissonant intervals challenged the conventional norms of the time. Monk's compositions, such as "Round Midnight" and "Blue Monk," are characterized by their unconventional harmonic structures, marked by angular melodies and unexpected chord progressions.

His use of dissonance, often incorporating clusters of notes played in close proximity, created a sense of tension and release that was revolutionary in the jazz landscape. Monk's harmonic innovations laid the foundation for future generations of jazz musicians to explore new possibilities in tonality and expression.

The Pianistic Genius

Monk's distinctive pianism is immediately recognizable. His percussive and angular playing style, coupled with his penchant for dissonant chords, created a sonic signature that set him apart from his contemporaries. The rhythmic complexity of Monk's playing, characterized by unexpected accents and pauses, added an additional layer of intrigue to his performances.

His influence on piano technique and style extended beyond his compositions. Monk's idiosyncratic approach to the instrument, with his use of staccato accents and unexpected pauses, challenged the conventional norms of jazz piano playing. His innovations continue to resonate in the work of countless pianists who have drawn inspiration from Monk's groundbreaking style.

The Birth of Bebop and Monk's Role

The 1940s saw the emergence of the bebop movement, a revolutionary shift in jazz characterized by rapid tempos, complex harmonies, and intricate improvisation. Monk played a crucial role in shaping the bebop sound, collaborating with pioneers such as Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie. His compositions, including "Well, You Needn't" and "Epistrophy," became emblematic of the bebop era.

While Monk's contemporaries were often at the forefront of the bebop movement, Monk's own unique contributions were sometimes overshadowed. His compositions, though revered by fellow musicians, did not always find immediate commercial success. Nevertheless, Monk's uncompromising commitment to his artistic vision and his refusal to conform to established norms set him apart as a true innovator.

The Legendary Monk Quartet

In the mid-1950s, Monk formed the legendary Thelonious Monk Quartet, a group that featured John Coltrane on tenor saxophone, Wilbur Ware on bass, and Shadow Wilson on drums. This quartet, often hailed as one of the greatest in the history of jazz, produced some of Monk's most iconic recordings.

The partnership with Coltrane, in particular, was a meeting of two musical giants. Coltrane's fiery and expressive playing complemented Monk's idiosyncratic compositions, creating a synergy that elevated both artists to new heights. The recordings from this period, including the album "Thelonious Monk with John Coltrane," are celebrated as masterpieces of jazz collaboration.

Monk's Compositional Legacy

Thelonious Monk's compositions have become an integral part of the jazz repertoire. His tunes, characterized by their memorable melodies and intricate harmonic structures, continue to be studied and performed by musicians around the world. "Round Midnight," arguably Monk's most famous composition, has been recorded by countless artists and remains a jazz standard.

Monk's compositional style was rooted in a deep understanding of the blues, and his ability to infuse bluesy sensibilities into complex harmonic settings contributed to the enduring appeal of his music. His compositions often featured unexpected rhythmic twists and turns, keeping both musicians and listeners on their toes.

The Jazz Vanguard: Monk's Impact on the Genre

Beyond his contributions as a pianist and composer, Monk played a pivotal role in shaping the broader landscape of jazz. His unapologetic commitment to originality and innovation encouraged other musicians to explore their own unique voices. Monk's impact extended beyond the confines of bebop, influencing the development of post-bop, free jazz, and avant-garde jazz.

Monk's insistence on individual expression and his rejection of musical conventions opened doors for future generations of jazz artists to embrace their creative instincts. His influence is evident in the work of avant-garde musicians such as Cecil Taylor and Ornette Coleman, who drew inspiration from Monk's fearless approach to musical exploration.

Challenges and Recognition

Despite his undeniable genius, Monk faced challenges in his career. His unorthodox playing style and sometimes unpredictable behavior led to periods of public misunderstanding. In 1951, Monk's cabaret card was revoked in New York City, a setback that restricted his ability to perform in local venues for several years.

However, Monk's fortunes began to change in the late 1950s and early 1960s. With the support of fellow musicians and growing recognition of his artistic contributions, Monk experienced a resurgence in his career. In 1964, he appeared on the cover of Time magazine, a significant acknowledgment of his status as a jazz innovator.

Later Years and Recognition

In the latter part of his career, Monk continued to tour and record prolifically. His later albums, including "Monk's Dream" (1963) and "Criss-Cross" (1963), showcased his enduring creativity. Monk's impact on jazz was further recognized when he was awarded the prestigious Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award in 1997, a fitting tribute to his lasting contributions to the genre.

Monk's Persona: Quirks and Eccentricities

Thelonious Monk's persona was as distinctive as his music. Known for his distinctive sense of style, which often included distinctive hats and sunglasses, Monk's onstage presence reflected his offbeat approach to life. His penchant for abrupt pauses during performances, as well as his sometimes enigmatic behavior, only added to the mystique surrounding the man and his music.

Legacy and Influence

Thelonious Monk's legacy endures not only through his recordings but also through the impact he had on the evolution of jazz. His uncompromising commitment to originality and his fearless exploration of musical possibilities continue to inspire musicians across genres. Monk's influence can be heard in the work of pianists ranging from Herbie Hancock and Chick Corea to modern innovators like Brad Mehldau.

Monk's compositions remain a rite of passage for jazz musicians, a testament to the enduring power of his musical vision. His contributions to jazz harmony, rhythm, and composition have left an indelible mark on the genre, ensuring that Thelonious Monk's legacy will resonate through the ages as a testament to the boundless possibilities of artistic expression in jazz. Embrace the avant-garde flair of jazz with our Thelonious Monk T-shirt, embodying the quirky elegance and groundbreaking creativity of the legendary pianist.

[ralphsutton]

The great Thelonious Monk known as one of the first creators of modern jazz, Monk’s music was known for its humorous, almost playful, quality. His playing was percussive and sparse, often being described as “angular,” and he used complex and dissonant harmonies and unusual intervals and rhythms. He was also one of the most prolific composers in the history of jazz. Many of his compositions, which were generally written in the 12-bar blues or the 32-bar ballad form, became jazz standards. Among his best-known works are “Well, You Needn’t,” “I Mean You,” “Straight, No Chaser,” “Criss-Cross,” “Mysterioso,” “Epistrophy,” “Blue Monk,” and “ ’Round Midnight.” Here, he is performing “Blue Monk” with Charlie Rouse on saxophone, John Ore on bass and Frankie Dunlop on drums live in Belgium, 1963. #NeverGiveUp #NeverGiveIn #YouAreDesignedToWin #NoDaysOff #NoExcues #Ralphp247 (at Los Feliz Village) https://www.instagram.com/p/CjjG0M_vrYM/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[a-pop-life]

In memoriam: John Coltrane 1926-1967

In memoriam: John Coltrane 1926-1967. #JohnColtrane

✎ John William Coltrane ☆ 23-09-1926 † 17-07-1969 ∞ American jazz saxophone player and composer. Initially an important exponent of the so-called free jazz. He frequnetly played with the greats in jazz, including Miles Davis and Thelonious Monk. He is generally acknowledged to be the most influential saxophone player in music ♫ Selection Miles Davis: ‘Round About Midnight Milestones Kind Of…

[overlooked-tracks]

Review: World Jazz Festival Brings Global Musicians Together in Mumbai

An Overlooked Tracks News Finding: Here’s an article you might have overlooked. Having a partnership with NewsAPI, we try to catch music entertainment news for you to view, read and possibly enjoy. We will continue to find what’s available in the world of music entertainment, concert information and music releases. But obviously you – the listener and reader are the biggest source for news in your area, so if you can share with us. For right now, look at what we found for you:

“From The Rolling Stone – India Magazine Website – Review: World Jazz Festival Brings Global Musicians Together in Mumbai”

The second edition of the event featured tunes by the likes of John Coltrane and Duke Ellington.

John Coltrane’s music set the tone and was a recurring theme on day one of the World Jazz Festival, held at St. Andrew’s Auditorium in Mumbai on June 4th and 5th. The hugely accomplished guitarist Prasanna, with Ojas Adhiya on tabla, opened with a set of four pieces, two of them being “Impressions” and “Equinox” written by John Coltrane.

Later in the program, Coltrane’s “Like Sonny” and “I Want to Talk About You” made an appearance, played most deftly by Dutch tenor saxophonist Ben van den Dungen, ably assisted vocally by Deborah Carter on the latter piece.

The first evening had references to many of the masters who make up the rich tapestry of jazz. Dexter Gordon’s famous “Cheesecake” was introduced in grand style by a horn section comprising the aforementioned den Dungen, with Bas Toscani and Ellister van der Moolen on trumpet and a very pleasing rhythm section that included the brilliant Spanish pianist Miguel Rodriguez and the evergreen Marius Beets on upright bass. Beets was also the musical director for the band.

Vocalist Jodi Fredericks from South Africa sang the vocals on “Cheesecake.” The only regret from this performance was that after the riveting introduction, the band did not play long enough before the vocal introduction. Jodi continued with the introspective ballad “You’ve Changed,” which was enriched by a lovely pensive solo from Moolen’s trumpet.

Dutch tenor saxophonist Ben van den Dungen performed at the World Jazz Festival in Mumbai.

Thelonius Monk’s breathtaking composition “Round Midnight” was vocalized by Jodi Fredericks, followed by “They Say It’s Wonderful” where Fredericks sang an innovative vocalese improvisation on Sonny Stitt’s solo on his rendition. Vocalese is a brilliant way to highlight a notable instrumental solo from some past recording. It will be nice to have much more from this novel approach in jazz concerts. The great Charlie Parker’s “Confirmation” was also performed by the band.

The next part of the evening was a feature of jazz music from New Orleans, courtesy the combination of ven Dungen and Carter with fine support from Miguel Rodriguez, Beets and Mitchell Damen. It was a perfect demonstration of music from the home of jazz. Ven Dungen described the New Orleans sound as being “more from the hip than the mind,” and proceeded to demonstrate why. Inadvertently, they paid a tribute to Marilyn Monroe, performing “My Heart Belongs to Daddy,” vocalized by the famous actress in a Hollywood movie.

The final tribute of the evening was paid to the great pianist and bandleader Horace Silver, with the band’s rendition of “Cape Verdean Blues.” All the musicians from the evening including Prasanna and Adhiya joined in and made it a rollicking jam session to end a thoroughly enjoyable evening of jazz.

Day two of the festival followed the trend of the opening day with the brilliant Indian sitar player Ravi Chari, accompanied by the tabla and playing a couple of rhythmic pieces including a Bhatiali dhun. He returned later in the show to participate in the jam session finale.

Alexander Beets on tenor saxophone opened the jazz component of the evening’s performance with a brilliant original, “Blues for the Legends.” A self-confessed admirer of the hard-bop style of jazz – emphasizing interplay between saxophone and trumpet – Beets said this composition was a tribute to the towering tenors Gene Ammons, Ike Quebec, Stanley Turrentine and Houston Person. A rich tribute indeed! Coincidentally, Mr. Person had played in Mumbai in 2012. As on day one, trumpeter Moolen impressed with her playing, this time alongside Beets.

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[cosmickidinfullcostume]

Ophelia Redpath 1992 (British B. 1965) Round Midnight, Playing the Saxophone. Crayon and gold (25 x 20in).

Saw this a couple of years ago at an auction when I was eighteen and I didn’t have any money to buy anything; but I kept staring at this, and I’ve thought about it most days since then as I never wrote down its name. I finally rediscovered it today in some archives, and it remains something that holds a little piece of my heart.

[taeescript]

29 + 1 (Part Two)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (squint harder than before for taehyung x reader) 

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: slice of life; ceo!seokjin; a dash of enemies to lovers au 

𝔴𝔠: 7.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: language; a plethora of drunk people, maybe a sext, and a ton of lying (possible implication of impending smut?!) 

𝔞/𝔫: this part came out longer than i thought it would be but *shrugs* feedback and thoughts always welcomed. enjoy (:  𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: DailyHive is real; this is not associated with it 

part one || part three 

The bright pop music that is blaring from the speakers does little to slow your animated talking. Bodies are packed into the small local bar, and students on summer break fill booths and form a snake of impatient, drunk (and horny) people. A slow trickle of the brazen has started to fill the dance floor as the evening morphs into the night.

  You whip your hair into a ponytail and dab at the sweat that is beading your forehead. You definitely should have worn that sleeveless top rather than this thicker t-shirt dress.

  “So, is he like your sugar daddy or something?” Taehyung asks, “Also drink.”

  Friday nights were usually spent at home, snuggled under the blankets in your pjs binging another rewatch of Friends. After work today, you could no longer hold onto your secret and invited Taehyung out for drinks. His girlfriend, Fei, was supposed to join but had been held back for overtime.

  You tip the shot back with no chase.

  “You’re a monster,” he comments as he bites into his lemon piece.

  The two of you had made a bet at the beginning of the evening: you each chose a pop song and each time it played, the nominee had to take a shot. That was your fourth of the night, and to say there was a bit of a buzz is an understatement.

  “It’s all throat technique, Tae,” you say with a bit of a slur, “Hit the back and swallow. No innuendo intended. Also, why the hell haven’t you had any to drink?”

  “You picked ‘Peaches’ for fuck’s sake.”

  “I told you I don’t listen to pop music. It was the first one playing.”

  “And shouldn’t that have told you something? Justin Bieber of all people?”

  “Shut up. It’s your song.” You nod at the pink-faced barista for another round. She slaps your order in front of the two of you without so much a glance.

You don’t even know what song is playing, but you feel quite satisfied watching Taehyung make a face as he downs it in one go.

  He clears his throat after the liquor has burned its way down to his stomach. “Back to my question: is he your sugar daddy?”

  You bark out a laugh. Was he? Perhaps the fact that he paid for fancy meals at lunch? Those have been his one o’clock meetings for the past two months.

  “I don’t know. I’d rather he buy me a car or pay my rent if anything. A casual 1k a week wouldn’t be so bad either. We just sit in his office and eat in secret, Tae. He’s ‘training me in the art of culinary cuisine’. I think it’s just so I don’t embarrass him by stuffing a shrimp cocktail up my nose.”

  “You do know – ”

“Yes, I know. And I would never. It’s a metaphor. It’s just that the position ‘intern’ is quite loosely defined at DailyHive, don’t you think?”

  Taehyung rinses his mouth with water before speaking. “So let me get this right. Mr. Kim calls you into his office, says he’s going to take you as his guest to the biggest tech event of the year, treats you to lunches and doesn’t ask for anything in return? No secret midnight meetups or shady business deals…”

  You shake your head.

  “Damn,” Taehyung says, resting his arm on the bar table, “Forget sugar daddy. He’s just daddy.”

  Sticking your tongue out, you gag visibly at his comment. “Do not ever call him that again, Tae; ev-er.”

  He laughs and watches you pensively. After a moment’s thought, he says, “Nobody has ever called me Tae.”

  “What do they call you then?” you reply, wrinkling your brows together. A cute brunette across the room catches your eyes and for the briefest of seconds, you wonder what a one-night-stand would feel like.

  He shrugs. “Just Taehyung.”

  The brunette waves in your direction. You are about to return his wave when an equally cute brunette runs up to him. He promptly kisses her before swivelling her around to join his group of friends.

  “Sorry. Do you want me to stop? I just assumed since we were out of the office…”

Oh Fate, how cruel you are. Life of twenty cats and solidarity, here you come. Maybe dogs. You feel like you could be more of a dog person.

  “No,” he stops you, “You can call me Tae. Whatever you want.”

  You turn your attention back on the also cute brunette in front of you. In all honestly, despite his youthful god-like countenance, he looks slightly out of place at this college bar with you in his upstanding business attire and dorkishly adorable thick-framed glasses.

  “Sure. How about Tee-Tee? Or Hyungie? The TaeMan?” You wiggle your brows with the suggestion.

  “God help me.”

  The two of you clink your shot glasses together even though neither of your songs are being played.

  His Apple watch lights up to indicate an incoming message. He relays the text to you, “Fei’s done work. She’s on her way now.” You can’t help but notice a shift in his previously excited demeanor.

  You nudge him with your elbow. “Aren’t you excited? She’ll need a glass of wine or two to destress after work. I might be projecting onto you for this part, but you’re buzzed. So after we get her to unwind I’m sure the overwhelming power of pheromones will get you lucky tonight.” You wink at him to emphasize your point.  

“She’s not a big drinker. She’s probably just going to come and ask to leave in five minutes. Bars like this aren’t really her thing either,” he states. He then unbuckles his watch and tucks it away into the pocket of his pants. Undoing the cuffs of his shirt, he rolls up the sleeves and continues to regard you solemnly. “Okay, next round is one me. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to switch songs?”

  You notice how nice, long, and slender his fingers are. Plus the thing of girls liking when men have visible veins on their forearm? That had never really caught your attention until now.

  “She’s a bit of a bitch,” you say and immediately regret, “Shit, sorry. That just slipped out. Alcohol.”

  He offers you his water to drink.

  “I mean, she’s a little…uptight at times? But people can be completely different in and out of work. I can only imagine how stressful it is in her position. Working overtime until 9pm on a Saturday night seriously sucks,” you say to try and mend your wrongdoing.

  “Fei in the office is basically Fei at home,” he says softly, “It’s always work with her.”

  “We support career-driven women, yeah?” A smile is offered from you to him.

  He finally lets out a small one and nods. Out of the blue, he reaches over and covers your hand with his. Staring intently into your eyes, he says, “I know she makes you do her reports and occupies your time to do her coffee runs as well. You can say no to her. She may be my girlfriend, but you’re technically my intern, and I will stand on your side no matter what.”

  “Um, okay. Thanks, Tae,” you say. His sincerity has caught you off guard.

  At that moment, the sound of clicking heels pierce its way into your eardrums through the noise of the even busier bar. Taehyung quickly retracts his hand.

  Fei arrives, not a hair out of place in her tightly pulled bun. Her lips are painted a striking red against the paleness of her skin, and her manicured nails dig into the forearm of Taehyung when she reaches them. Even though she is wearing an otherwise drab office business suit, the curvature of her body draws quite a few glances from the younger men in the crowd.

  “It’s like a zoo here,” she sneers, turning away from a sacrificial lamb who had been bold enough step out of his circle of friends to greet her with a sleezy “hey”.

  “Hi, Fei. Busy night?” you greet her first.

  She gives you a tight-lipped smile. “Yes. I don’t know why you weren’t there. Isn’t it the intern’s job to complete reports?”

  Again, a loosely defined use of “intern” at DailyHive.

  You return her smile with a crisp one of your own.

  She turns away from you and regards Taehyung, who looks as if he had been the sacrificial lamb instead. “Teddybear, let’s go home. You know this type of place isn’t my vibe. I’m getting a headache already.”

  You raise an eyebrow at his pet name.

  He turns a little bit pinker, if that is possible under the current alcohol-induced glow of his cheeks, and says, “Um, sure. Y/N, are you going to be okay getting home?”

  Waving him off, you show him your phone. “30% left. I’ve got pepper spray in my bag and enough booze in me to not run from a fight. I’ll call an Uber home soon, don’t worry.”

  Fei has already begun to fight her way through the squirming, dancing bodies. Taehyung glances quickly at her and turns back to you once last time. “Text me that you’re home safe.”

  “Will do, boss,” you smile at him warmly.

  He lingers for just a moment more before running after his impatiently waiting girlfriend.

  You turn back to the bar and order another beer for yourself. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is perhaps the biggest perk of being single.

...

On the opposite side of town, sinking deeply into a soft lounge chair is Seokjin enjoying a rare evening out with his best friend. He has swapped his usual attire for a more relaxed fit of a white oversized crewneck and techwear bottoms. A heavy, exorbitant fur-lined long leather coat hangs on the coat rack beside the door to their private VVIP room. He swirls his glass of Chateau Lafite before sipping delicately.

  Outside, only a handful of patrons sit quietly engrossed in their own conversations. It is a relatively empty night at the high-end lounge. A lady sings sultrily on stage with the smooth background of a saxophone as accompaniment.

  Junho has poured himself another glass while he is talking to Seokjin. Seokjin had since slightly tuned out his friend’s rather elongated rendition of another celebrity sighting to occupy his mind with another individual.

  “Earth to Jin? When did you get so lightweight since I’ve been gone?” Junho waves a hand in front of Seokjin’s nose.

  Seokjin blinks to refocus.

  “The mansion I bought last year or the one I bought last month?” he reiterates. Sensing that Seokjin truly had no idea what the topic at hand had been, he tries again.

  “Where should I do my birthday party this year, man? I thought the mansion from last year since it’s closer to the city, but I feel like it’s been reused too many times. It’s not completely furnished yet, but the property I got last month is significantly bigger and I can probably host more people.”

  “The new place then,” Seokjin answers half-heartedly.

  Junho grumbles something intelligible.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing,” Junho sighs, “Tell me what’s new with you. How’s that little project of yours going? I still can’t believe you won’t let me know who you’re planning to take to the Gala.”

  Seokjin had refused to release even the slightest detail about you to Junho. Letting him know that Seokjin had agreed to one of his plans would be enough to inflate Junho’s ego for at least a little while.

  “It’s been going...”

  Junho waits for more of Seokjin’s answer, but his friend’s attention has been turned to a received text.

  10:17pm “Safe and sound, Teddy Bear.”

  10:17pm “Or should I say Taeddybear? 🥴”

10:18pm “That last beer done me rael godo.”

  10:18pm “Real good**”

  Seokjin raises a brow at the unknown number. He responds back.

  10:18pm “Who is this? I think you’ve got the wrong number.”

  Junho crosses his legs and sits back with a sigh. He presses the button to request for an attendant.

  10:19pm “You know who… Anyways, I just wanted to say thank you for saying you’ve got my back. It’s definitely appreciated.”

  The response doesn’t do much except to further pique Seokjin’s curiosity.

  “Sorry,” he says, sliding his phone back into his pocket, “Rogue text I think.”

  Junho shrugs. “Is that right? Seems to have caught your attention.” There is now a manner of indifference to his voice.

  “It’s going well, by the way – answering your question. I mean, all things considered. It’s not like I have to teach her how not to stuff a cocktail shrimp up your nose.”

  His friend snorts. “I’d be concerned and against this person if it’s who you’re planning to bring.”

  Seokjin’s phone buzzes again.

  10:21pm “Pray for me when I wake up with the worst hangover of my life. I’m going to bed now.”

  A moment of silence.

  10:21pm “I hope I didn’t piss off Fei tonight for stealing you for the evening.”

  10:22pm “Okay I’ll shut up now. Please don’t tell me you’re reading this. You should be getting some 😼💦.”

  The emoji makes Seokjin choke, liquid sputtering from his lips.

  Junho cusses. He angrily dabs at the speckle of red wine that has landed on his pearly white top.

  10:23pm Download attached image. “Just in case, here’s a little something to get the night started 😉”

  “What the hell man?” Junho gets up and makes his way to the bathroom. Luckily, the previously called attendant had arrived in time to escort him.

Seokjin barely notices that he is alone in room as he taps the download button. It isn’t until he has returned home and is looking at the picture one last time before bed that he realizes who his mysterious texter is.

  The employee nametag clipped to the collar of your workday shirt hanging on the arm of a chair can only be found when zoomed in past your painted toes and naked feet.

... 

You cannot hide your nervousness when you arrive at your “lunch meeting” the following Monday morning. All weekend, you had cursed yourself for not better checking who the recipient of your texts were before pressing send. Never had you thought that in your drunken stupor you would mix up “The Devil” in your contact list with “Taehyung Kim.” Curse you and your lack of friends beginning with the letter “T”.

  You balk before, a hand poised in perfect position for a knock. Maybe he didn’t download it? And even if he did, it was just a troll feet pic. You had made sure that it was as pg-13 as possible before you had sent it.

  “Hi,” you greet sheepishly when he has given you the go to enter.

  In a smart plain blue button-up and round frames that are almost certainly for the aesthetics, the CEO of the company and your boss sizes you up and down.

  “I know we’ve gotten to know each other better these past few weeks. But you’d think it’s still common courtesy to at least make eye contact,” he says. You look at him wide eyed without a word.

  He rolls his eyes but does not gesture to your usual seat. In fact, you don’t spy a take-out container in sight. He instead stands up and picks up his phone, walking to the door. He notices you have yet to move.

  “Let’s get moving. You’ve only got a 45 minute lunch.”

  You scramble to match his speed and catch Taehyung’s eye as you grab your jacket at your desk. Taehyung’s gaze follows you as you hurry to leave in pursuit of Seokjin’s coattail.

... 

The restaurant is a popular vegan establishment with a plethora of greenery crawling up its high ceilings and a window-framed overview of the city’s skyline. Waiters and waitresses who may just as well be walking New York Fashion Week serve you brunch mimosas on a golden plate; they attentively wait to the side in case you ever run out of water.

  Common topics are rare between the two of you. Initially, you respectfully kept quiet and only answered questions when asked, but you have never been one for awkward silence. Yes, it’s awkward only if you make it awkward; there is just no denying the hanging suspense that curls your toes each time. Recently, you have started with simple inquiries regarding the company, who they might meet at the Gala and everyday mundane topics.

  “You’re probably wondering why we’re out of the office,” Seokjin says. He continues shortly after taking a bite of his meal and ignores the look of your surprise at his initiation of a conversation. “My office has been getting stuffy with the warmer weather so I thought it’d be nice to get some fresh air. How’s the food?”

You nod, making small sounds of contentment as you chew on the Avocado Lime Tartare. Mmm… tart-y.

  He takes a deep breath in, stalling the incoming conversation. “It’s my friend’s birthday this next weekend.”

  “Oh,” you say, “Happy early birthday to him.”

  “He’s my best friend.”

  “Well… An extra happy early birthday to him.”

  A sigh. “Are you free next weekend?”

  Your chewing comes to a halt and you blink once at his question. Next weekend is the weekend before the Silver Gala. It is also the sole weekend before your birthday the following Friday after the Gala. You had hoped to spend it with Taehyung and maybe even Jimin who had promised to be in town on a long overdue vacation despite your chastising to visit your parents first.

  He senses your trepidation. Quickly, he explains himself, 

“He’s having a birthday party Saturday night. He has a place about an hour north of here. I can have somebody pick you up if that’s more convenient. I don’t have a birthday present for him and thought it’d be nice for you to meet him.”

  “You’re giving him me for a present?” you ask, incredulously.

  He bites his tongue. He never anticipated how awkward this conversation could go.

  “You’re going as my plus one. He really wants to meet you; in fact, he insisted that you be there. He’ll be at the gala too. I have something else planned for his birthday present,” he adds hastily, “Besides, you’re less than qualified as a present.”

  Musing silently to yourself, you wonder if in any situation should a human be qualified as a present. Despite that, you hate yourself as you agree on the spot.

  The rest of the lunch passes by quickly in dull silence. As Seokjin pays for the meal on the company card (and hands you the receipt for reimbursement), you note that there has been no comment made on any strange photos texted to him over the weekend.

  Perhaps being nonchalantly implied as a human birthday gift to a stranger is your karma for sending weird texts to your boss.

  Seokjin stays inside the car as he drops you off at the office after lunch, already preparing for his next business meeting. You nod your goodbye and step onto the pavement through the courteously held open door of the limousine.

“Y/N, try a soft pink. Fuchsia is not your colour,” he tells you as the door is closed.  

He then leaves you standing in front of the large office doors, staring at your chipped, week-old purple toenails.

... 

“I’m not exactly expecting a package in the mail or a dress laid out on the hotel bed – ”

“You guys are staying at a hotel?” Taehyung says over the phone.

  You are standing in your bedroom, an hour before when Seokjin is supposed to pick you up as an offering to his best friend. There are two dresses laid out on your Hello Kitty bed covers: a simple black dress you had worn once when you were a little bit more in shape and your prom dress.

  “No, I’m at home. But I mean, let me play into this movie metaphor.”

  “You suck at metaphors.”

  You have your phone propped up on some pillows so that you can see Taehyung as you debate your fashion decision. He is in a relaxed white tee, hair messily framing his face after a shower and a bowl of popcorn in his hands. You watch as a droplet of water runs down his face from his still-wet hair. He nonchalantly licks it off from the side of his mouth.

  “As I was saying, it wouldn’t hurt to get me something. He made it seem like it was a big deal. Like doesn’t the male lead usually surprise the female lead with a big bouquet of flowers and this over-the-top expensive dress which she wears and makes the male lead fall head over heels in love with her?”

  He chews silently on a kernel then probes, “You want Mr. Kim to fall in love with you?”

  “No,” you hastily correct, “It’s a metaphor. I think you’re the one who sucks at metaphors.”

  There is a beep on your phone to indicate you have another incoming call.

  “Tae, I’m going to have to call you back. My brother’s calling me,” you tell him. The black dress; your old prom dress is way too early 2000s. Black never hurts.

  “Okay. Have fun tonight. Pretend that it’s your birthday party. And then I’ll meet you for brunch tomorrow, my treat? You can tell me all about it,” he says. “Also the black. You look cute in that one.”

  “My party if I was 30, rich and successful. Oh wait, I’ll have one thing in common soon; that’s a start. Thanks though. I’ll call you tomorrow morning once I get up,” you say, then switch the call over to your brother. You had missed the flush of his cheeks as you busily swipe your phone.

Sticking the prom dress back into your closet, you rummage around the meager display of shoeboxes for a pair of high heels.

  “Hey, Jimin,” you greet over the phone.

  “Jesus, I do not need to be accosted by my half-naked sister,” he yells over the phone.

  You turn rapidly, seeing that you had accidentally continued a video call from when you had hung up on Taehyung. You throw a pillow over the camera in your haste to cover yourself up.

  “I was going to ask why you’re dressed like that but on second thought, I think I’ll leave your sexual exploits as your own secret.”

  Despite how disturbed you feel about this comment, his cheerful voice makes you smile.

  “So little sis, the weekend before the big three-oh!”

  “Please stop reminding me.”

  “Where do you want to meet tonight? I just got off the plane, but I can be ready to meet in about an hour. I booked a hotel close to the airport.”

  Shit. You forgot to tell Jimin. These heels will have to do.

  “Um… I, uh…”

  “What?”

  You clear your throat and begin to undress in front of the mirror. You have a sudden conscious thought that the dusty treadmill in your living room seems to be staring daggers at your back. 

  “I’ve got plans tonight.”

  “Plans? I wasn’t even aware you had friends here.”

  “Ouch, Jimin. But yes, I have friends. In fact, I am meeting a friend for brunch tomorrow if you want to join. I’m sure he’ll be okay with it.”

  “He?” Jimin repeats, “Should I put on my big brother boxing gloves? Give him a good talking to in case he’s interested in my baby sister?” Pause. “Was that who you were calling before?”  

You bite your answer back, not feeling the need to go down that rabbit hole.

  “He’s just a friend; A co-worker really,” you say, “He’s also unavailable. And before you suggest anything, his goalkeeper is technically one of my bosses so I do not want to try and shoot past her thank you very much.”

  Jimin laughs. “I wasn’t going to suggest anything. Well if you’re busy tonight, tomorrow morning works for me. Give me a call. I’ll spend the night in watching some good ol’ Netflix and enjoy this vacation time.”

  “Sorry again,” you apologize.

  “Go out and have fun,” he says, “You deserve it.”

  The two of you finish off the call with the usual goodbyes. You have forty-five minutes to dress the part of a sparkly birthday surprise for the co-founder of the company you work for. Throwing on your favourite throwback music, you get to work.

  Once satisfied, you snap a picture and sending it to Taehyung making special care that you have picked the right individual this time.

... 

The mansion is bigger than you could have ever imagined, and the amount of people present are…

  “You’re telling me I can do whatever I want tonight,” you ask Seokjin in the car.

  There is no denying that Seokjin knows how to dress for an event. In a velvety black and white suit, contrasted by his blonde hair which he has elected to temporarily dye for the evening, he looks very much the posh CEO magazines brand him out to be. You are glad you elected for the simple black dress as standing beside this Renaissance statue in a floral pastel yellow dress would be like planting dandelions in Kanye’s sculpture garden (if he ever wanted one).

  “The majority of people won’t recognize you after tonight. They’ll also be too drunk to even register anything you tell them,” Seokjin says.

  He cannot believe that you chose a simple black dress. Did you really not own anything remotely feminine besides the most generic clubbing outfit? Even if you had wanted to make an appearance as a hooker, at least make it an expensive-looking one. Maybe he should have bought you that Versace dress he spotted in the window the other day. Instead…

  “Take this. Your earrings are too gaudy for this event.”

  You touch the sparkly black cats you have put into your ears. Their eyes are made of crystal, and you thought it looked quite fetching in the light. Opening up the box, you see a dainty elegant pair of teardrop earrings that may or may not be of real diamonds.

  “Only Junho will know who you really are and then you can enjoy the rest of your night. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being held here against your will.”

  Putting them on, you note that even this simple change in attire has elevated the entirety of your presence. You felt as luxurious as this gift.

  “Thanks, Seokjin,” you try the first name basis he had insisted upon for this evening, “Not going to lie, I had imagined that maybe you’d send me a dress in the mail or something, but this is still very nice.”

  He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Like in the movies? Please, I run a start-up company. I’m not a millionaire and I don’t think you would appreciate my handouts.”

  You don’t respond, making your second note of the night on the Prada label on the cuff of his suit. “To clarify, I don’t introduce myself as your plus-one tonight.”

  “No. I don’t want you associated with me,” he curtly states. He watches as your smirk twitches and he hits himself mentally in the head again. “It’s to protect you. There are bound to be tons of paparazzi tonight at a party as big as this. I don’t want you to find yourself in the tabloids tomorrow morning. Just be smart.”

  The car pulls to a stop after inching its way up to the front door. People mill about outside in extravagant brands, holding glasses of champagne. The man of the hour is somewhere inside the building, charming his way into new business deals as well as making new friends.

  “Stay close to me. You can leave after we meet Junho. It is his birthday after all,” Seokjin offers a hand as you step out of the car.

  You take it, looping yourself into him so that your hand rests on his forearm. You are only 13 days younger than Junho, and yet this striking contrast in lifestyle hits you like a landslide while the two of you walk up the stairs and into the mansion.

  Inside, it is dim with disco lights flashing to the beat of amped party music. Upon entrance, the two of you are offered glasses of liquor (you take a swirling iridescent drink) to which you are then ushered to where the birthday boy lounges.

  Junho has an even more youthful face than Seokjin does. Where Seokjin’s features exude class and charm, Junho appears mischievous and looks to have stepped out of every girl’s bad boy dream.

  You stop Seokjin with a tug and make him look at you. “Tell me: do I look like a passable birthday offering?”

  Seokjin rolls his eyes and pulls you along with him.

  “Jin!” Junho hollers loudly across the room when spotting his oldest friend. There is a doll-like female magnetized to his side. “This is Clara, my date for the evening.”

  Seokjin shakes her hand and greets them. The female cannot seem to pry her eyes away from this handsome new stranger. He introduces himself chivalrously to her as Junho sides up to you and grips your hands in his. His breath smells strongly of mixed drinks, and you know that in about fifteen minutes the entire night will be a blur for him.

  “You must be Y/N!” he says excitedly, “Jin didn’t tell me that you were coming! What a surprise!”

  “I am,” you greet back with a large smile. “Although I’m also surprised. Seokjin told me that you had insisted I came.”

  Seokjin grits his teeth, annoyed at Junho. Would he ever learn when to keep his big mouth closed?

Laughing loudly, Junho grabs two drinks just as a waiter passes by and hands them to you. “Insist might be a strong word,” he says, drilling another hole unknowingly, “I honestly thought I’d have to play part-time wingman tonight. But I’m glad he’s got someone by his side.” He jabs you a little too hard in the ribs. “Next week’s gala is going to be fun! Okay, now there’s only one rule tonight: there are no rules!”

  The four of you clink your glasses together, while you do your best to hide an embarrassed smile on behalf of the birthday boy.

  “You bet I’m going around as your trophy wife tonight,” you whisper in Seokjin’s ear when Junho looks away.

  He whirls around to look at you, the tip of both your noses impossibly close together. He can taste the acidity of the wine when you breath out with a wicked smile. He barely has time to stop you as you peel yourself away to mingle with the crowds.

  Seokjin is about to follow you but Junho pulls him away, flamboyantly introducing his handsome best friend to a group of international models. He turns on his brightest smile, but his heart thunders in his chest at you calling yourself his wife.

... 

You twirl around in your dress, nobody noticing the small splash of champagne on the front of it in the quickly changing lights.

  “He bought this for me last week. Says it reminds him of the first night we met. Our eyes met across the waters in Tuscany where he was on a business trip. I’ll let you on a little secret, but I was his mistress for a little while.”

  Seokjin cannot make out the words you are saying to a small but growing group of people around you. He stands across from Junho, but looks over the latter’s shoulders to watch as you do another spin.

  “A little while, Charlotte? Are you still his mistress?” an older lady with an exuberant amount of jewels hanging off her body whispers with a keen interest in your expertly spun story.

  Charlotte Dior Laurent, an identity you are pretty sure is an amalgamation of French brands from the top of your mind. You continue to personify this character however.

“Don’t worry. He’s left her since. I know I know, my friends all say the same. ‘He’s already been divorced three times. How can you be sure he won’t leave you?’”

  At this point, you are in way over your head at having told this story to at least two other groups and a multitude of other renditions to whomever you have met tonight. But there is something powerful about liquid courage as it courses through your body.

  The lady lays a hand on your arm. “I don’t want your heart to break. You are still young.”

  Looking up between the heads of your audience, you catch Seokjin’s eyes. They are fiery and it sends a strange sensation up your toes to your abdomen. You give a titillating wave at him in which he does not return.

“He says I’m special and different. How can you say no to that?” you exclaim with exasperation, fully committing to the poor damsel just oh-so in love.

  There is a look of genuine concern on the lady’s face at your statement.

  Before you can dig yourself a deeper hole, you place your empty glass on the table and excuse yourself. You do not know if it’s the drinking on a relatively empty stomach or if the room is really much warmer due to the multitude of bodies, but you head out to the balcony.

  On your way out, you notice that the clock reads twenty minutes past midnight. This gives you a shock at how fast time has passed. Perhaps you should go find Seokjin if you are to get a decent amount of sleep before meeting with Taehyung and Jimin tomorrow. Speaking of Taehyung…

  You pull out your phone and see that there are two unread messages. The first is from Jimin, confirming that he is indeed invited to brunch tomorrow morning. The second is a response from Taehyung.

  11:09pm “Wow. You have me a little lost for words. I had imagined you’d look nice in the dress but… You really are beautiful.”

  Smiling, you type in your response.

  12:21am “Thanks, Tae. You’re up late.” You take a picture of the earrings Seokjin had gifted you and attach it to the message. “What do you think of these?”

Barely have you returned your phone into your bag when it buzzes again. This time you receive an attached image. Taehyung seems to be sitting in front of a monitor, as his face glows with a blue light and contorted into a pensive furrow of his brows.

  12:21am “A little different from your usual style. Are they new? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear those.”

  12:21am “Fei’s out with some friends tonight. She likes when I wait for her to come back before I sleep. To make sure she’s safe, I guess.”

  12:22am “Pooey. I should’ve brought you as my plus-one 😩. Also, Seokjin bought them for me for tonight. He says my other earrings are too gaudy.”

  12:24am “First name basis 🙃”

  12:25am “How is your night going? Having fun?”

  You are about give Taehyung a call for a detailed recounting of tonight’s escapades when someone speaks out from within the shadows.

  “A penny for your thoughts?” He walks into the moonlight. You flush, meeting the eyes of this particularly dashing gentleman, the phonecall immediately forgotten.

  Oh, Alcohol, you make even the smartest of people do dumb shit. And right now, your effects are even worse on this idiot.

  Your mouth hangs slightly open as you watch him puff out smoke from his cigar and offer it to you. He brushes up beside you, his fingers trailing up your hand which grips the balcony. You cannot seem to break away from his gaze.

  “Lung cancer has an increasing incidence rate particularly for females due to smoking. Are you sure you want to be condoning this type of behaviour?” Seokjin interjects himself between you and your Tuxedo Mask, pushing the outstretched cigar back towards its owner.

  There is a small stare down amongst the two men before the latter quietly exits the stage. Your eyes continue to linger on him even as he walks towards another female alone in the night enjoying the outdoor breeze.

  “You’ve just ruined by chance. I could have seduced then blackmailed him with the story of his illegitimate child to play Black Widow,” you whine.

  Seokjin takes the glass that had somehow magically appeared in your hand during the short walk from inside to outside on the balcony.

  “How many have you had since we came?” he asks.

  You sigh wistfully, still in your dangerous daydream. “I don’t know. I’ve lost count.” You turn your attention back to him eventually. “What are you doing here? Did you see me with him and get all jealous, hubby?” you tease.

  He scoffs, drinking from your glass and pulling a face. Once again, there is that twist and jump within his chest, but he attributes it to whatever nasty concoction he had just ingested. He pours its contents over the railing and into whatever shrubbery lies below. “You seriously went with being my trophy wife?”

  You shrug. “Of sorts. You’d better be right about people being too drunk slash not caring about me enough after tonight to remember the things I’ve said. ‘Cuz you’ve been divorced three times, had me along with another as your mistress, I think you’ve sired a few illegitimate children and all in all, a Games of Throne life. Damn, maybe I made you a little too badass.”

  “You’re having water for the rest of the night,” he says.

  You glare at him, contemplating on making a remark about his equally flushed face but decide against it. Instead, you lean onto the balcony and give a cat stretch. A large sigh escapes from you.

  Wordlessly, he shakes off his jacket and places it around your shoulder all the while averting his gaze on the unblemished skin of your upper thighs that had been exposed from your previous movement.

  Your blood feels like liquid fire coursing through your veins. Feeling overheated even in the evening breeze, you give him back his jacket. You note his reluctance to meet you even as you throw what could be a thousand dollar jacket in the air to him. “So what’s it like to live like this every day?” you say in wonder. You feel said breeze return and lean over the balcony to catch its chill.

  “Like what?” he asks. The warm summer night’s breeze blows through, settling his hair in a childish tousle.

  “Like rich,” you say. You sigh again. “Believe it or not, I’m the same age as your birthday boy best friend.

  And everything feels absolutely unreal right now. If I hadn’t agreed to come here tonight with you, I’d probably be at another dingy bar knocking back shots with my brother and friend.”

  “Are you a secret alcoholic?”

  You glare at him. “No,” you state matter-of-factly. “As I was trying to share, this type of lifestyle is something I could ever only imagine. I’m not ungrateful about spending time with them, but at the end of the night I’d go home, sweaty, drunk and gross, and then simply pass out. My bank account might be a couple hundred bucks lighter. Come Monday I’ll be working my ass off just to earn back what I had spent. Then cue the repeating cycle.”

  Resting your chin on your palm, your other hand sweeps your hair back behind your ear.

  “It’s amazing the difference a few life choices can have.”

  Seokjin remains silent beside you. Truthfully, he is at a loss of words. The moonlight plays across your face and caresses your nose down to your lips. You are arching your back once again to pull away the soreness that comes with wearing high heel the entire night. It is just a simple black dress but on you it made you look –

  “Well, you’re Mrs. Kim tonight,” he starts.

  “Charlotte Dior Laurent,” you correct him.

  He raises an eyebrow. “Okay… Ms. Charlotte Dior Laurent. Tonight you get to live like the rich, as you’ve put it. As a rich person, what would you like to do?”

  You ponder his question a few moments for the answer. “Hmm…I think I’d like to play golf. It’s a rich person’s sport. I want to play it on a private golf course, wearing cute golfing outfits and talk about million-dollar deals with a client without a care in the world. I want to order sangria by the gallon.”

  He laughs out loud. It takes a while for him to be able to speak again, but when he does you feel as if the night has been illuminated a few degrees brighter. “I personally don’t have a private golf course, but Junho does here in his backyard if you’re up for it. I can’t promise cute golfing outfits so you’ll have to do with your wine stained dress. And if you’re really up for it I can pretend to make business deals with you, that’s my job anyways.”

  You grin, taking the hand he has offered you. “Call.” The two of you shake upon his suggestion.

As he is leads you by the hand towards the dim gates of said golf course, you tug at him gently. “There’s something missing…” you say.

  He shakes his head and pulls you back in towards the party room. 

“I’ll see what they have at the bar.”

... 

As the hands of the clock continue to spin past another hour, the summer night takes a chilly turn. Seokjin has lent you his jacket but even that cannot stop your fingers from becoming numb. Your hands shake even as they tightly hold the golf club. Seokjin watches you in silence as you prepare to hit the golf ball, a beer in one hand and a few opened bottles littered on the grass beside him. The club hits the ball with a resounding “cling” but does little in propelling it a few centimeters.

  “This one doesn’t count,” you announce, “It’s too dark to see anything here.”

  Seokjin takes a swig as you readjust your position. You sway in the wind and the last tendrils of your hair come undone in its half up half down hairdo. Your hair now whips wildly around your face when another gust blows through.

  “Shit!” you exclaim, missing the ball again. “Why is golfing so hard?!”

  You throw your club down and trudge to Seokjin. The six pack the two of you had been sharing has officially been depleted. Seokjin offers you his half empty bottle. This time, you are the one watching as he goes to your spot and effortlessly swings his target into the darkness.

  He smirks from the spot.

  You grumble. “You’ve had years of practice. Not fair.”

  “You’ve got to do better than that, Mrs. Johnson,” he says, teasing you.

  Your grumble becomes more audible. You place the now empty bottle on the ground and cross your arms against your chest. Since telling him of your other American alias from tonight, he has not ceased to remind you of your strange choice of name.

  “Just so you know, Mrs. Johnson can afford both an affair and the consequential prenup,” you huff.

  “It’s still a stupid last name.”

  “It’s an American multinational corporation with an income in the billions, okay?”

  “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you sleep better at night. Now come on, I’ve got one last ball. Take a swing.”

  Groaning, you shuffle over. You wish you had not suggested golf. You had never been good at sports anyways – bad hand-eye coordination.

  He stands beside you this time, scrutinizing your every movement with hawk-like eyes. “No, not like that,” he says, “Have a wider stance and bend your knees. Better centre of gravity gives you a better swing. Also hold it with a neutral grip.”

  You readjust your positioning following his instructions.

  “Index finger down the center. Good. And three knuckles on each hand. No, that’s two. Okay your hands are just weird now. Three. I said three.”

  “Stop standing there and show me then, Mr. Know-It-All,” you say, your patience in this makeshift lesson also coming to an end.

  He walks closer to you, reaching out for the golf club. He retracts his hands in seeing that you have yet to let go. “You got to – ”

“You can touch me. I did tell you that Mrs. Johnson can afford an affair and prenup. Besides, I’m not going to be able to learn anything if I can’t even see you in this dark.”

  He comes behind you and puts a foot between yours to guide your stance. Wrapping his arms around you, he fixes the placement of your hands to grip the shaft of the club in the way he had previously instructed.

  Perhaps it is the mixture of wine, champagne and beer offered tonight, but being enveloped in the warmth of this embrace intoxicates you. The tingles that are sent down from his soft breathing on the base of your neck, make you shake like a leaf in the wind.

He inhales the sweet undertones of your perfume. The tendrils of your hair brush against his collarbone, sending a sensual kiss onto his skin. Unconsciously, he draws you closer to him, shielding you from another gust.

“Now you just want to swing,” he says, the words a mixture of a whisper and guttural grunt. His chest rumbles with it, passing the vibration through to your back.

  You remain as still as a statue and lean ever so slightly back into him until your entire backside is pressed upon him.

  You can’t stop yourself as you ask him, “Do you want to have sex with me?”

...

[lboogie1906]

Dexter Gordon (February 27, 1923 – April 25, 1990) was a jazz tenor saxophonist, composer, bandleader, and actor. He was among the most influential early bebop musicians, which included other greats such as Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, and Bud Powell. His studio and performance career spanned more than 40 years. He was known for inserting musical quotes into his solos, with sources as diverse as "Happy Birthday" and well-known melodies from the operas of Wagner. One of his major influences was Lester Young. He was an early influence on John Coltrane and Sonny Rollins. Rollins and Coltrane then influenced Gordon's playing as he explored hard bop and modal. He was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actor in a Leading Role for his performance in Round Midnight and he won a Grammy for Best Jazz Instrumental Performance, Soloist, for the soundtrack album The Other Side of Round Midnight. He had a cameo role in Awakenings. His album Go was selected by the Library of Congress for preservation in the National Recording Registry for being "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant". He was born in Los Angeles. His father, Dr. Frank Gordon, was one of the first African American doctors in Los Angeles. His mother, Gwendolyn Baker, was the daughter of Captain Edward Lee Baker, Jr. one of the five African American Medal of Honor recipients in the Spanish–American War. He was a member of Lionel Hampton's band, playing in a saxophone section alongside Illinois Jacquet and Marshal Royal. He was featured in the Fletcher Henderson band, followed by the Louis Armstrong band, before joining Billy Eckstine. He was married to Fenway Gordon. He had six children and seven grandchildren. When he lived in Denmark, he became friends with the family of the future Metallica drummer Lars Ulrich and became Lars's godfather. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence https://www.instagram.com/p/CpL1wMILhtZ/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[bigwriterenergy]

reader x jotaro kujo.

this piece is about a reader who is an alto saxophone soloist who performs at a bar! jotaro finds solace in her ability and takes a leap of faith.

tw: nsfw, 4k words!

The alcohol stilled quietly in his drink; the condensation that once lingered over the glass collected onto his fingertips. The dilution rendered the spirits bland from its state of former glory. The silliness of the alcohol hardly retained his attention. Muted voices would pass the aging Kujo, mostly by women who noticed his regular appearance whenever she took the stage. Fatuous giggles would trickle from painted lips as the waitresses continued their path. Whispers involving his tall stature or attractive visage would fall on occupied cognizance. The busyness of the bar hardly captivated his attention; he sought something different.

The hush that accompanied the diming of the stage lights roused Jotaro from his muddled thoughts. He stirred quietly in his chair, slanting his position closer to the stage. There was new drive within each swirling iris; as though if he blinked, he'd somehow miss the entire performance. The roaring of the bar silenced to soundlessness. The coldness of the glass had little effect on his nerves.

And like the answer to prayer, she appeared before him. The midnight-toned wool clung tight to her figure. The turtleneck and long sleeves on the black dress promoted a sense of modesty. A sense of professionalism. The raven-haired male was slightly jarred at the thought, his thick eyebrows furrowed. Since when did he give a damn about what a woman wore? "Tch," The retrieval of a cigarette was a familiar coping mechanism when he questioned his enamored state. This .. woman .. did she truly captivate him so by just playing a damn instrument? A single spotlight followed her path to center stage. He obsessed every step, every adjustment, as though it was his first. Never did he grow old of her appearance to him. Each curve and place of particular softness was admired by Jotaro. A sigh would follow as she wordlessly pressed on the keys, the familiar, metallic clank provided him with ease as he relaxed back into his seat. The Japanese man was seated just a meter or two from the glamour of the stage, he always was.

The perfect opening melody originated from the golden mold of brass. Each lingering note resonated deeply within Jotaro. Jazz had surrounded his life for as long as he could remember; what with his father having a collection of saxophones and other brass pieces. It provided comfort, something familiar in one of the most difficult times of his life. This bar became his happiness through his failing marriage, through his tarnished relationship with family, through his, eventual, divorce. The music she graced to his disoriented mind seemed to be the perfect cure. The music was without fault, without mistake -- An angel of song that eased his worries. Did she know her effect? Did she know how much he wanted to repay her kindness?

Jotaro came close to gawking as he gandered. Wide, blue eyes lit up by the bouncing illumination of the sax's coat. Your attention-seeking hips swayed with both piano accompaniment and your jaunty production of concord. And just as soon as you began, you finished. The minutes seemed to pass by so quickly whenever you took stage. How many songs was it tonight? The minutes seemed closer to seconds. The musician presented a quick bow to the crowd and then disappeared off stage left. The bud of cigarette clung weakly to his lips as the lights returned to their prior intensity. Voices began to fill the bar, polluting the beauty that bared itself to them. A stout hand went to knock back the remainder of his diluted whiskey as he stood from his seat. Maybe just one more round before he returned home. Snuffing the bud of his cigarette in a nearby ashtray, casual steps carried the towering man towards the bar. The melodies she crafted still wrapped around his skull. It was truly an excellent set. 

The bar was crowded, as per the usual. There seemed to be only one space generous enough to house his frame -- though beside it, a familiar woolen dress seemed to captivate his focused stare. The turtleneck that shielded your neck from him almost caused him to stagger. Why -- why was she at the damn bar? The very woman that soothed his worries and captivated him for night on end. Was this fate? Good Karma? Nervous breaths escaped into busied air as wobbling steps carried him forward. What would he say? What could he say? Did he smell good enough? Was his hair gelled?

Squeezing into a vacant space beside the woman, the gentle bump prompted a noise to escape your lips. Upon the discovery, Jotaro came to remember: he had never heard your voice. "Ah, shit .." The spillage of your choice drink resulted in a click of the tongue. Retrieving nearby napkins, you went to slop at the small puddle. Jotaro stared, following every minute movement you provided. He prevailed silence, as though he was testing the waters. Merely gawking, you assumed his acknowledgment of your presence as an attempt at an apology. Wedged between the object of his affections and strangers, Jotaro felt trapped. Uncharacteristic. But, she offered a smile. Something so diminutive and insignificant, but enough to make him feel grounded. "Hey, it's alright. It's a packed bar," A dismissal. Of course. "Yeah," The word feels so foreign on his tongue. The bartender approaches the Japanese man, easily pouring his choice whiskey. "Dr. Kujo -- here again? Here's your whiskey. Been a while since you've been up to the bar." The harshness of his stare was focused on the server. His fists clenched at his side. What the hell was this guy doing?

Your eyes followed the departing bartender. "Wow, I'm guessing you come here a lot? Mark hardly ever recognizes people." Hoping to find solace in his drink, you continued to offer kind smiles to the man. How could you not? Dr. Kujo, you discovered his name to be, was one of the most attractive men you had seen. Did fate put this gorgeous man beside you? Of course, you were going to roll with it. Jotaro tensed in response, a nervousness swept over his frame. He went to quell the emotion with a sip of whiskey. "I enjoy the music." A simple phrase completed with the typical aloofness. Your eyes seemed to glisten. He was a doctor? Is that what Mark said? Wow ..

"Music? Yeah, we've got some pretty good acts here." You respond. Jotaro sharpened his stare down to you and you almost shrank under his gaze. Pressed shoulder to shoulder, you noticed the sheer size of the man. Releasing a somewhat sheepish chuckle, you continued. "Not to toot my own horn, but I perform here!" Jotaro's grip on his glass tightened. He knew. He came to see you almost every night. The woman who captivated his psyche and healed his broken spirit. "I saw. You're pretty decent." Plush lips returned to his drink. You almost beamed at the weak attempt at a compliment. "Haha, thanks! -- By the way, my name is (y/n). I'm guessing you don't want me calling you Dr. Kujo?" The man continued to stare. "Jotaro." His deep voice rose above the bar. "Oh, Jotaro? That's a very nice name! Are you from America?" He huffed at the question, turning his features back to the countertop. "You ask a lot of questions." You laughed at his obvious dismissal. "Sorry! It's not every day you actually have a conversation with someone at the bar." He huffed in response.

The night carried on. The casual conversation turned to tipsy banter. You even managed to pull the softest of smiles onto his pinked lips. The hour furthered into indecency; the bar is beginning to empty in response. While you were laughing at some foolish joke you told, Jotaro cut his eyes down to his watch. Clicking his tongue, you caught sight of the motion. "Awh, don't tell me you gotta leave?" Jotaro tensed at this and glanced downward. He met your eyes and almost melted. You were adorable and easy to talk to. He was lonely and without any company. The words found substance and exit before he could properly run them through his filter. "Are you busy right now?" The older man spoke quickly and quietly. You blinked upward through your lashes, confusion easily painted to your visage. "Ah .. not especially. We're about to close up here soon." You respond. His expression was unreadable, due to both dim lighting and his lack of expression, but the scarlet to his cheeks suggested more than just the alcohol's influence. A leap. All he needed was courage.

The larger man sloped closer; the distance now maintained by the Kujo was strangely intimate. His frigid eyes met your stare. "Are you .. busy the rest of the night?" Awkward. Clumsy. Inexperienced. Since when was he one to pick up women in a damn bar? He was a married man -- His eyebrows twitched at the thought. Right .. He was divorced. Jotaro attempted not to think of his pending separation from his wife as he awaited your response. But -- as he continued to stare, taking in your realization, initial reaction, then eventual acceptation -- he realized. You had brought him more happiness in the past few weeks than he had in a very long time. Something that wasn't wrapped up in his failures and lies -- Something that made him think he was anyone but himself. Jotaro had a difficult time with the admittance of love and while he didn't exactly equate such a strong emotion to this interaction and ultimate conclusion, he was certain you made him celebrate to be in some bar, sitting next to you.

The interaction concluded with a sheepish stare and a quick departure. You had confirmed with your superior that you were finished for the night. Gathering your belongings and locking up your instrument, you hurried out to the near parking lot. There, you saw Dr. Kujo, leaning against his sleek, black vehicle. The cigarette lit a muted illumination of orange around the more prominent protrusions of his features. Now that he stood, you noticed, this man truly was massive. Towering height seemed even more intimidating as you bounded up to the man. "Woah," You murmured as he snuffed his cigarette. Curiosity held his stare to yours as he regarded you, quietly. "Get in," A small command, but slightly harsh. He had been somewhat cordial throughout the whole conversation, but his almost authoritative instruction was nearly surprising. Deciding not to comment, you followed his order. 

The car ride to, you assume, his lodgings was dead silent. The lack of music, the lack of conversation, and the seeming lack of chemistry had you beginning to regret. He was gorgeous, no doubt. And from the silent purr and easy ride of his vehicle, you assumed well-off. But there was something just so strange. You took in his form as he drove. Two hands gripped the default positions on a steering wheel, but he appeared entirely relaxed. Hooded eyes remained focused to the road. "So," You began, hoping to alleviate some of the discomfitures. "You know what I do for my job, so -- what do you do?" Jotaro remained silent, debating whether or not to disclose information. His mind was too preoccupied with maintaining his damn head -- he was about to sleep with this woman who offered him nothing but comfort. Therefore, he needed you to be silent, if only for a moment. "Ecology." A simple yet unknown phrase that would thwart your questions, if just for now. You caught the hint very well, he notes. The remainder of the car ride is silent.

" .. What?" The first sight of a grand, gated apartment complex caused you to blink in disbelief. The buildings were modernly designed, with odd shapes and pure white brick. Watching the fleeting buildings with skepticism, you supposed it made sense. Didn't Mark address him with a 'Dr. Kujo?' Settling back into the cushioned seat of the car, you hardly noticed the inconspicuous glances he would direct your way. Jotaro held no reaction at the sight of your bewilderment. He supposed it might have been a bit surprising to see such a nice complex but thought it best not to comment. A final turn brought the vehicle into a covered parking garage. Stepping from the driver's side, the dim lighting of the garage offered faulty illumination. Without your confirmation, the man continued forward. You noted the coldness of his attitude once you eventually got him outside of the bar. Closing the door once you exited, you were left to follow the towering man with brief hesitation. Was this a mistake? Silence consumed the once vibrant conversation. Luckily, he lived on the bottom floor, so it didn't take much time for you to reach his home.

The design was flawless. Stainless steel, monochromic designs. The lack of color appeared far more sophisticated than the outside led to believe. Remaining by the door, your stare landed on Jotaro beginning to remove his dress shoes. You supposed he would want you to do the same? Awkwardly standing near the doorway, you suddenly tensed as he pointed down to your feet. "Take off your shoes." Scrambling to follow instructions, it took little time for your short-heeled foot coverings to be discarded near the entrance.

The sobriety you had was a result of nervousness. The alcohol in your system had seemingly evaporated at the thought of spending a night with a man this impressive. Fearfully, you thought of Jotaro's cold facade. The chilling nature in which he stared was enough to make any woman feel a cold rush down their spine -- "Go sit on the couch." Perking when his commanding voice reached to you, your stare followed the origin of the sound. The man had begun to uncork a bottle of wine, already reading your mind it seemed. Perhaps you both would need a couple of drinks before the night truly began. "Right," Giving him confirmation, you began to make your way to his living room. 

Despite his straightforward guidance, you gave little attention to the couch. Approaching a nearby table placed in the corner of the living room, your eyes fell to a single picture frame. In the frame contained a picture of Jotaro and a small child, a girl. The small smile that graced his, usually, stone facade proved natural. And the girl appeared more than happy to have her lithe arms wrapped around his thick neck. Was he really old enough to have a daughter? You blinked down at the information before you. 

"I told you to have a seat." His voice sounded behind you. Nearly jumping out of your skin, you gave a heavy huff and somewhat bashful smile. "Ah, sorry -- I'm a little nosy." Jotaro's expression twitched at this. He offered you a glass filled with expensive red wine. You happily accepted and knocked it back, deciding to take a seat on the couch in the process. He followed suit. After a moment of sipping away, you made a gesture to the frame. "I - I didn't know you had a daughter." Searching for small talk was difficult with a man who appeared so fed up. The stare he gave was chilling. Your fingers clutched your glass defensively. Was that out of line? It was difficult to continue eye contact, but you persevered. "Yeah." That was his response. You almost rolled your eyes. 

As the hour furthered, the wine began to mellow with the night. On your third glass, you had begun to feel the mind-altering effects. Jotaro was already on his fourth. The desire to remain somewhat sober paused your binging. Gingerly, you placed the half-full glass on a nearby counter. You immediately noted the furrowing of his brows. You nervously laughed, defensively raising your palms to him in the process. "Ah, the wine isn't bad or anything! I'm just done --" There was something about the way he stared. Predatory? Raging, dominant aquamarine without any hesitance. You felt as if you stared much longer, you'd be stranded at sea. 

The alcohol gave him foolish confidence. Maybe it told him that you were interested. Maybe it told him that he deserved to be loved, if only for one night. You felt the shift in the tone of the interaction. The very stillness of the living room inspired the softening of the features. Jotaro took this as his chance. The muscular man pulled closer to your figure, the intensity of his expression no longer inspired nervousness. You allowed the moment to consume you. His expression wasn't that of anger, but of desperation, even you noticed the nuances of his depressive expression. But, something was hidden within his gaze. Hunger? 

" .. You," Parting your lips to speak, you supposed you didn't know how much closer he had drawn. Practically towering over your figure, even while sitting, Jotaro stared down. One arm was possessively situated above you, resting upon the top of the couch. You carefully watched his tongue swipe across his bottom lip, obviously preparing for some sort of contact. You allowed it. Tentatively, Jotaro brought his visage to you. The effortless connection of his lips to you screamed sensuality. You couldn't believe just how tender his skin was. The deepening of the kiss was of your own volition, but Jotaro easily stole away the dominance. One of his powerful hands went to cup your jaw, tendering the moment even further and turning you into a mere puddle before him.

Brazenly, you felt his hand fall to your thigh. The material underneath his fingertips was warm and resembling fleece. The hand that soon slipped underneath your clothing was particularly cold, but you didn't mind. If anything, his cold skin provided a sense of relief to the effects of both your arousal and the alcohol. "Jotaro," You murmured against his skin, inspiring his confidence further. Descending upon the woman, he effortlessly brought your back against the plush of his furniture. Jotaro remained tethered to your lips as he began to unbutton his dress shirt. Peeking your eyes open, you noted that his were closed. Was he truly that passionate? You didn't take him for that kind of man. Wanting to get a better look at his figure, you watched as he finally shed away the restrictive clothing. You almost screamed. His build was perfect -- muscular and firm. It didn't take long before your fingers became exploratory. Each one danced over each rippled of tight skin. You disconnect the kiss to speak. "Is -- Is that okay?" Obviously referring to your wandering hands, you questioned quietly. He nodded, believing that the same permissions were extended to him. You felt his fingers grab at your thighs underneath your dress. The grip was tight and inspired a short breath to exhale past your lips. Suddenly, he began to pull your dress from your figure. Tossing it on the floor once you had been shed, he took the opportunity to regard your rather plain, mismatched underwear. "Haah .. " You bashfully glanced away. "I - I don't usually go home with anyone. Sorry .." Although Jotaro didn't display it on his blushing features, he questioned anyway. "Is the only thing that leaves your mouth apologies?" Genuine confusion settled into his words. You dismissively huffed. "Nevermind."

The moment returned to its prior intensity. The lack of clothing especially heightened the sensual mood. Deciding to reach for your bra next, his fingers almost expertly unclipped the fabric. Your breasts fell from confinement. The cold air of his apartment happily brought each one to point. Jotaro stared and you allowed him his fill. Suddenly, his lips wrapped hungrily around your right nipple while his hand began to fondle the other. Gnawing and sucking away at your chest, you swore you almost came there. It wasn't often a one-night-stand would service his lover. Almost as though he read your mind, you felt prodding at the fabric of your underwear. Hastily pulling away at your undergarments, you felt the brawn of his fingers press against your heat once revealed. You gasped at the coolness of his skin. " -- Haah, .. Jotaro --" The moan containing his name only proved to stir his groin. Hot, slow kisses were planted along the edge of your areola as he began to move further down. Soon enough, his tongue was pressed against your entrance. Your fingers almost immediately went to tangle in his hair. Heavy breaths escaped into the air as he began to suck and lick away at your nectar. You heard the rustling of fabric and soon saw the man clad only in his undergarments. 

After a few moments of enjoying the pleasure Jotaro so desperately thought you deserved, you finally stole a look at his figure. The man's right hand was now preoccupied. His reddened cock rested, fully erect, within his massive palm. You gawked at the size, knocking your head back against the sofa in astonishment. Was this man perfect? Clenching your eyes shut, you felt the familiar pressure building up in your system. If anything, you would say he was near perfect at reading your body. Swiftly, he was above you once again. You blinked your eyes open to take in his glistening lips. "You taste pretty alright," Whispers are placed against your lips before he abruptly reconnects the kiss. Those very words caused your stomach to catch aflame. You had no idea why that was so unbelievably attractive, even if the one-liner was a bit embarrassing.

The kiss had you enamored, distracting you just as he intended. You hardly noticed the tip of his head pressing itself against your taut opening. His frigid fingers met the plush of your thighs. There, gentle force was exerted, easily spreading your sweetness for his eyes to drink in. The disconnection of the kiss grounded you back to reality. You hear him inhale, a deep, hollow sound that stirred your mind. Sheepishness composed your frame as you turned away from the sight of him gazing upon you. "Haven't you seen one before?" Speaking through pouted lips, you shifted uncomfortably in place. Unfortunately, the powerful hands that kept you dormant restricted most movement. 'Not one as beautiful.' He wanted to respond, though thought better of it. Hadn't he said enough embarrassing things tonight? "Yes. Didn't you see I had a daughter?" With the addition of alcohol, his blunt response almost had charm to it. You rolled your eyes once more. 

Your attitude was met with an immediate rebuttal. Jotaro managed to push forward, effectively silencing all that left your lips. A sigh of sorts left past your separated lips, obviously proving his movements efficient. You felt unimaginable around him. You felt the tips of his fingers dig even further into your flesh. Knocking your head back, you allowed yourself to be serviced. And service you, he did. 

One of your thighs is eventually released from his hold. Readjusting his knees on the couch, Jotaro placed nearly all of his concentration in the slow hip rolls he would bestow. The lethargic roll of his pelvis smoothly pushed him deeper. The girth of his length was felt. The tense of your muscles demonstrated your sensitivity. The outline of a shimmery being appeared behind the man, but you were none the wiser. With closed eyes and an arch back, Jotaro summoned his stand to handle the real stimulation you sought. Star Platinum apparated without your knowledge. A dense thumb pressed against the bundle of nerves between your lips. Immediately, you moaned in response. Squirming underneath Star Platinum's finger, Jotaro focused on providing you with the skill he possessed. He only hoped that he could bring you a fraction of the happiness you delivered him. His eyebrows twitched at this. When did he become so sentimental?

His pace had been increasing gradually. Somewhat surprised that you were lasting with the addition of Star Platnium's added stimulation, Jotaro decided to alter the position. Your body was near limp once you felt arms wrap around your waist. Jotaro dismissed his stand. Blinking your eyes open, you gave a cautionary sound. Settling upright on the couch, there was little hesitance in his movements as he sat you down on his hips. The change of position allowed for deeper penetration. In response to the stimulation of new nerves, you both groaned in pleasure. His sturdy arms remained wrapped around the small of your waist, a desperate grip to demonstrate his need to provide you with all you desired. His hips would work upward, venturing to push himself even further into your wetness. Loosening his hold slightly, his eyes took in the eroticism of your bouncing breasts. God, you were picturesque to him, like this. His pace turned merciless. The heels of his feet were dug into the rug to halt his movement as he continued to abruptly pound into you. Each sensitive spot seemed over-stimulated as you eventually reached orgasm. The familiar pressure and release filled the noises of the room as you reached completion. Despite your obvious orgasm, Jotaro continued to slam his length into your walls. His imminent orgasm was chased until eventually, he stilled. The raven-haired man yanked himself free from your opening and began to furiously pump away as his erection. His expression was scrunched and similar to that of stone. You watched him begin to drain himself onto his toned stomach. The twitch of his cock was almost hypnotizing. The noises he made were stifled and produced from the back of his throat. Eventually, you both came down from the fleeting high. The rise and fall of your chests were erratic and without pattern. Your palm met your forehead with disbelief. That was the best sex you had ever had.

You both sat quietly, unsure of what to say to the other. Jotaro, eventually, was the one to speak. " .. Are you hungry?" His question was met with your silence. And then a stifled laugh. "Really? That's the first thing on your mind? -- No. I'm not." You climbed off of the man and took in his appearance. How did you manage to land someone so attractive? "Do you just want to sleep here?" The invitation to stay over was happily accepted. You couldn't believe the connection you made with this intense doctor. Even while walking to his bedroom, you felt entirely comfortable near his domineering persona. Had the sex really altered your mind so quickly? After pulling on some of Jotaro's larger clothing, you both soon retired to his grand bedroom. You laid next to him with his sturdy back pressed against your own. Still so cold, you noted. The threat of sleep loomed over both figures, but both refused its poison. Thoughts spiraled in and out of their heads in the coming hours. Was it surprise? Lust? Or perhaps an understanding that the other was far too out of their league. 

He decided not to dwell too much on it. After all, you'd always be at the bar to play again.

[jazzviewswithcj]

A deeper look at Merci Miles: (Warner Records, 2021)

Miles Davis: trumpet; Kenny Garrett: saxophone; Deron Johnson: keyboard; Richard Patterson: bass; Ricky Wellman: drums

By July, 1991 Miles Davis was music royalty.  The previous decade saw him reach a level of popularity and stardom seldom seen in jazz.  By the early 80’s the trumpeter had changed music multiple times, 4 to be exact, with his foray into hip hop, the first recording to be issued after his death Doo Bop (Warner Bros, 1992) , marking the fifth groundbreaking turn in his career.  Prior to his passing from stroke complications in 1991, he maintained a vigorous touring schedule, and the performances of his sextet of the period, the finest late career band he ever led (and arguably one of the best bands of his entire career) were supercharged.  The music captured on the newly released Merci Miles: Live at Vienne (Rhino, 2021) marks the first time anywhere save two YouTube videos the concert has been available in full, and is significant and historically important for two reasons:  it is one of Miles’ final performances in France available legally, and it features two compositions by Prince, the cheeky entendre laden titles “Penetration” and “Jailbait” that the late icon wrote specifically for Davis.  

The picture of the late singer/composer/multi instrumentalist’s involvement with Davis is much clearer through the release of Prince’s own Sign O’ The Times multi disc mega box set and the official release of “Can I Play With U?” a track originally written by The Purple One during the legendary Rubberband (Rhino, 2018) sessions.   Prince’s track was going to be included on what eventually turned out to be Davis’ first album with his new label, Warner Bros. Tutu (1986) but was eventually shelved.  The track was then slated to be issued in the original, much more substantial The Last Word: The Complete Warner Brothers Recordings box set from the early 2000’s (of which promo copies existed) but was fazed out due to rights issues.

The trumpeter always regarded France warmly, from the time he first set foot on French soil as a 22 year old in 1949.  The country was also where in the late 1950’s he recorded the innovative soundtrack to Elevator To The Gallows or Ascenseur pour l’echafaud director Louis Malle’s smoky noir film of which the trumpeter’s soundtrack, completely improvised featuring a top French rhythm section crystallized some of the ideas the trumpeter later would apply on Kind of Blue (Columbia, 1959).  France was also the setting for the infamous romance with the late French starlet Juliette Greco.  More importantly, France, being the first country to wholeheartedly embrace jazz and recognize creative improvised Black music to be on par with European art music, was ready for whatever Davis brought to the table, instead of the misdirected pining that many fans and critics demonstrated in the U.S. for his past, acoustic centered work.  

Merci Miles was captured on July 1, 1991 at the Jazz a Vienne festival, at a picturesque Roman amphitheater filled to capacity.  7 days later on July 8, Miles would revisit the material from Porgy and Bess, Miles Ahead and Sketches of Spain at the Montreux Jazz Festival  with a double orchestra conducted by Quincy Jones and featuring the late trumpeter Wallace Roney as a second voice alongside occasional spots for alto saxophonist Kenny Garrett.    The appearance featuring this music was followed by an appearance with former band mates in Paris on July 10 (a concert that unfortunately of this writing is  being thieved by bootleggers for album release), and the European swing wrapped up in Nice, France on July 16th.

Miles’ band that July 1st evening, featuring Deron Johnson (who grew up with Miles’ nephew and former drummer Vince Wilburn, Jr) on keyboards; Kenny Garrett on alto saxophone and flute) lead bassist and Parliament alumnus Foley, bassist Richard Patterson, and the late Ricky Wellman on drums were inspired and smoking.

“Hannibal” written by Marcus Miller, which appeared on the group’s latest studio album Amandla (1989) is the high energy set opener, with the rhythm section of Johnson, Patterson and Wellman in perfect sync.  Miles flies free with some solo lines before the head appears, and Kenny Garrett makes his first appearance with a lengthy solo.  Garrett (who has a new Mack Avenue studio album in August) is like a heat seeking missile, the rhythm section responding and creating inner dialogues with him in response to his impassioned, pulpit stirring cries.  Deron Johnson, often alongside with Garrett in taking some of the best solos of the evening, briefly dialogues with Miles before spinning off into his own, substantial solo turn.  Johnson is a complete history of the keyboardist’s who played with the trumpeter and distills everything in his sparkling, distinctive soloing voice, swinging slightly behind the beat against the mightily funky bass and drums underneath.

“Human Nature”, the classic ballad   from Michael Jackson’s Thriller (Epic, 1982) Davis first debuted on You’re Under Arrest (Columbia, 1985).  The sensuous existential track became a blank canvas for the Davis band to paint on nightly.  The trumpeter renders the melody with longing, then gradually shifts into a resourceful solo with a double time sprint.  Within Davis’ solo and the use of Spanish tinged scales, and the colorful keyboard backing, the intense drama of the beautiful arrangements that Gil Evans crafted for Sketches of Spain (Columbia, 1959) which Marcus Miller expanded upon in a sense for the film soundtrack Siesta (Warner Bros, 1989) are clearly felt.  Davis quotes “Nature Boy” and a few other asides before passing the baton to Garrett, who used the tune as a nightly feature for intense late period Coltrane trance like meditation.  Garrett fits in a quote of the old spiritual “Joshua Fit De Battle of Jericho” before rocketing into space; Wellman in particular follows him wherever he goes.  Every now and then Miles jabs some mood setting chords with his Oberheim OBX synth as cues, while Garrett continues to combust.  The saxophonist bursting at the seams as a fragment from the bridge to “Milestones” is used as an ostinato, Davis signals a quick blast with his trumpet and the tune ends.  Garrett brought the audience and listeners at home on a thrill ride.

“Time After Time” , the Cyndi Lauper classic is ushered in as volcanic applause erupts from the audience, nearly drowning  out the music.  For 9 and a half minutes, the show belongs to Davis, as he gently finds all the melodic contours he can in the tune.  Like “Round Midnight” and “My Funny Valentine” of decades past, “Time After Time” became one of Davis’ signature ballads.  He drives his improvisation the same way  as Aretha Franklin, Pavarotti, Bocelli or Carreras would, with a marked sense of passion and timeless beauty.

Disc 1 closes with one of the Prince tunes, “Penetration” where everyone gets off on the raunchy funk.  Davis and Garrett are one during the track, and it truly shows the admiration and border less musicality that both icons would have shared, Davis struts with swagger between melody statements and Johnson rips into his solo with passion, Garrett’s searing alto ups the ante further.  As a contrast, “Jailbait” on disc 2, is a gut bucket blues where both Johnson and Garrett take scintillating solos..

The show closes with “Wrinkle” a wondrous maze of a melody that is awe inspiring when played a top speed, and “Finale” a drum solo feature for Wellman that showcases his patented bass drum triplets while keeping rock solid time on the snare, a sort of shuffle where the bass and snare switch roles, and some lightning samba as well as his signature Go-Go groove.

Sound:

Merci Miles is taken directly from the original tapes recorded and mixed by Patrick Savey and Mastered by John Webber at Air Studios in London.  Similar to Sony/Legacy’s Bootleg Series releases for Davis, the tape is from the official broadcast, in this case captured by the small Zycopolis studios.  Curiously for 1991, the sound is mono which could be due to whatever technical limitations of the tape, but it is very good strong mono.  The Schiit Bifrost 2 DAC manages to wring out very nice separation for the band in the mono soundstage: In particular, Davis trumpet is vibrant, brassy, golden and present.  Richard Patterson’s bass is commanding and takes the center of the sound stage, deep and rich.  Ricky Wellman’s drums are full of gusto, there is a reason his nickname was “Sugarfoot” and you hear that in all it’s glory.  Kenny Garrett’s passion radiates past the speakers, Deron Johnson’s keyboards float above the proceedings and Foley’s lead bass provides a wonderful textural contrast to everything else.

Concluding Thoughts:

The 80’s and early 90’s Miles cannon  has seen relatively scant archival releases versus everything from the 50’s-70’s.  Merci Miles is a welcome document of a band that truly was at the top of it’s game and at the peak of its powers.  Miles Davis, judging from this concert was showing little sign of slowing down in his playing, there is a vitality and joy here that  easily places this alongside his Montreux concerts of the period and the excellent Live Around The World (Warner Brothers, 1996).  A wonderful present honoring the great musical icon thirty years on from his passing.  The CD (reviewed here) and LP packages contain some particularly touching photos in a triple gatefold in the French Flag colors of Miles memorabilia from that final tour provided by Vince Wilburn, Jr and a superb liner essay from noted scholar Ashley Kahn contextualizing the history of the trumpeter’s French sojourns and the event itself, alongside some great photos.  The cover also features some nice embossing of the album title text and Davis’ name.  If there is any doubt about physical media, this album is a compelling case for why it’s so good to OWN a physical copy of an album.

Music: 10/10

Sound: 8.5/10

Equipment used for this review

Audiolab 6000 CDT  transport

Schiit Bifrost 2 DAC

Marantz NR 1200 stereo receiver (as pre amp)

Marantz MM 7025 stereo power amplifier

Focal Chora 826 speakers

Audioquest Forest and Golden Gate cables

[dustedmagazine]

Archie Shepp and Jason Moran — Let My People Go (Archieball)

Photo by Accra Shepp

2019’s Ocean Bridges presented Archie Shepp in an intergenerational, cross-genre collaboration that connected jazz and hip-hop within the continuum of black music and resistance. On Let My People Go, Shepp and pianist Jason Moran reach into a deep well of spirituals and jazz standards in a set that harks back to Shepp’s duets with Horace Parlan on 1977’s Goin’ Home.  At 83 Shepp remains a vital force and in Moran finds a worthy foil with the verve and empathy to match him. There is an understanding and clarity of sound and vision between the pair who, imbued with history and spirituality, dive deep into their repertoire. Recorded live in Europe during 2017 and 2018, this set includes two pieces from the Ellington/Strayhorn book, readings of “Wise One” and  “Round Midnight,” two spirituals reprised from Goin’ Home and a Moran original.

A wiry but poignant “Sometimes I Feel Like A Motherless Child” opens the album with Shepp wringing notes from his soprano saxophone over the delicate subtlety of Moran’s piano. The pace is slow, the notes stretched to extract every drop of feeling and, when he sings, Shepp’s voice imbues the words with pain, questing hope and quietly furious fortitude. “Wise One” builds like an approaching earthquake, Moran rumbles through the bottom end of the keyboard providing a shifting base for Shepp to move through the registers of his tenor soaring towards a higher truth as the piano pushes then relaxes then pushes again, keeping Shepp in flight. The consanguinity of the players is rendered in sound and Moran’s solo is a tonal and rhythmic call out to McCoy Tyner reflecting the delicacy and power of both players. Shepp ends in calm acceptance, the notes fading out of the horn as if some kind of peace has descended with him from on high. The duo play to both sides of “Lush Life” finding the wit, sophistication and bruised tenderness of Strayhorn’s song, the piano as much Monk as Ellington, with Shepp quoting “Well You Needn’t” as a wink to Moran and perhaps a circle back to Coltrane’s versions of the two pieces.   

An understanding borne of empathy and experience, the dialogue moves between the general and the specific with the tone, rhythm and discursions of people sharing both their outlooks through their love of music. On Let My People Go we are invited to listen in and are rewarded with wonderful performances full of wit, warmth and intelligence. 

Andrew Forell

[piccolosniccolo]

The Wreckers, but they’re a High School Jazz Band

Who do I need to sell my soul to for a Wreckers cartoon? You’ve got all the good ingredients for an excellent show just sitting there! We’ve got a well-rounded cast, giant weapons, badass female characters, space adventures, sexual tension, disturbing villains, and war crimes (basically, a combination between MTMTE and Cyberverse)! Additionally, I want to see Verity kick someone’s ass again. I want Rotorstorm to dab and be the Cybertronian equivalent of a tik toker. I want Springer back on TV. I want Overlord to randomly show up and screw with everyone. I want to have more options for procrastinating my engineering homework. Is that too much to ask? Fine, I’ll do it myself… eventually…

I referred to the IDW 2005 and the Aligned Wreckers roster to make this list.

Voice

Moonracer: Soprano, but she also preforms on strings (string bass, violin, and viola) when there is not a soprano part in the music. Before rehearsal starts, you can find her congregated in front of the band hall with the saxophones. They’re typically encouraging someone to chug some ungodly mixture of red bull, monster, and rockstar energy drinks.

Strongarm: Alto, but she also plays guitar when there is not an alto part in the music. She’s the only freshman who practices for rehearsal.

Sixknight: Tenor, but he plays alto saxophone when there is not a tenor part in the music. As the only freshman saxophone, he is constantly volunteered to put whatever plan the section concocts into action. The amount of energy drinks he has consumed is questionable.

Ultra Magnus: Bass, but he performs on trombone when there is not a bass part in the music. When he’s not singing, he’s attempting to reign in the hot mess that is the low brass section.

Clarinet

Ironfist: The nerd™ of the ensemble. His locker is basically a music library with music stemming from all eras of jazz history. His bucket list includes mastering every single instrument in a jazz ensemble.

Bass Clarinet

Broadside: He’s the band kid you didn’t realize was a band kid until you read the program for the performance.

Alto Saxophone

Sandstorm: He has the lowest attention span out of everyone in the program. When you hear him practice, he’ll sift between 20 different pieces in four minutes trying to find something that matches his mood. You never know what you’re going to get when he does improv, his playing drastically changes every single time.

Rotorstorm: Responsible for dragging his section into 95% of their shenanigans. He has memorized very single band pun you can think of, and he spends most of rehearsal putting them into practice. When he’s not making quips, he’s working on improv in spite of a teacher who looked down on him.  

Breacher: Makes sure Sixknight does something first before doing it himself. Yes, he’s down to do whatever the other Wreckers are doing, but just in case Prowl walks into the room, he doesn’t want to get caught doing something wrong. He’s got a reputation to make for himself!

Tenor Saxophone

Hubcap: As a result of Roadbuster’s teaching, he’ll feign a fever to get out of rehearsal when the guy is scheduled to lead rehearsal. I don’t blame him, I wouldn’t want to go through that either.  

Verity Carlo: She snuck into the band bus for a competition and the group decided to add her to their ranks. She’s either practicing with Springer and/or Ultra Magnus, or she’s causing some type of chaos with Miko.  

Baritone Saxophone

Guzzle: He was chill for the first two years of high school. Then junior year attacked, and his personality was drained away by stress, all nighters, and AP exams. Oof.

Trumpet

Pyro: The arrogant™ member of the group. He says he’s the hot stuff, acts like the hot stuff, and is on the hunt to prove that he’s the hot stuff.

Twin Twist: Joined the program as soon as he started high school. He is the definition of a band kid and proud. He has a bad habit of practicing his instrument until midnight, much to his brother’s and neighbor’s chagrin.

Topspin: His twin joined band first. He decided to join because he had to stay after school anyway to drive him home, plus his brother kept insisting it the greatest thing ever. He’s the only quiet trumpet.

Roadbuster: When he’s in charge of rehearsals, the only thing he focuses on is sixteenth note patterns. In his opinion, if you haven’t developed arthritis by the time you graduate high school, you didn’t practice enough.

Trombone

Miko Nakadai: Typically drags Bulkhead into some type of trouble. She’s got a ton of energy and band is her place to burn it off. She also plays electric guitar.

Bulkhead: He means well, but he’s often dragged into some ridiculous scheme with his friends. He goes along with them until the risk of getting hurt gets too high, then he steers them away so they won’t get expelled. Sometimes, though, he’ll accidentally start their next big quest and he’ll go along with it as if it was intentional. This is often stealing snacks from the teacher’s lounge.

Wheeljack: When he’s not blowing something up in the chemistry lab, he’s in the band hall playing stand tunes in “blastissimo” with the other trombones. Ultra Magnus has tried to get him to stop, but he has yet to be deterred.

Bass Trombone

Arcee: She isn’t an official member of the group, but she’s around often enough that she might as well be. She’s either joking around with the trombones and/or saxophones, or she’s getting into fights on behalf of her friends before rehearsal starts. You want her on your side, not as an opponent.

Tuba

Kup: He graduated from high school a long, long, long time ago, but he’s good friends with the directors and teaches private lessons. He’s a welcome member of the group and gives the best advice. Additionally, he can play the banjo.

Guitar

Springer: He’s the dad of the group. He can be tough on you, but he does it because he genuinely cares about the growth of the program. He also has the type of personality that draws people in and keeps them hooked on band.

Bass Guitar

Impactor: He’s an enigma. He’ll regularly attend rehearsal, then he’ll go off the grid for a few weeks. He’ll either be relaxed about practicing, or he’ll be strict. You never know what you’re going to get when you’re talking to him, but one thing remains consistent: he’s a damn good bass guitarist.

Piano

Perceptor: He has never missed a note. Ever. If you ever listen to him play, you’re always in awe, regardless if he’s a soloist or an accompanist.  

Drum Kit

Rack’n’Ruin: You’ve got trouble, now make it double! Sometimes their coordination is a bit of a problem, but they manage to work around it.

Vibraphone

Whirl: He’s vibing.

Extras:

First Aid: He shows up to every performance, every contest, and sometimes sits outside the band hall and listens to rehearsals. He has all their covers downloaded on his phone and listens to them when he studies. He has considered joining, but his pre-med teacher gives him excessive amounts of homework.

Drift: He was a member for a few months, but he had to switch out of jazz to incorporate a PE credit into his schedule. He’s still in the wind ensemble, so you can find him hanging out in the band hall.

Prowl: He’s the assistant band director, so a majority of his responsibilities include making sure the various band programs aren’t wasting their limited funding. He occasionally pops into Jazz rehearsal to make sure no one lit the building on fire, but you’ll hear from him most of the time through ominous emails.

Overlord: When he isn’t in the Decepticon Wind Symphony, he’s terrorizing the Wreckers. Megatron has threatened to kick him out of the program if he doesn’t get in line, but this only encourages Overlord to continue being awful.

Tarantulas: Prowl’s ex who will randomly show up on campus so they can talk about their divorce. You can sometimes hear them arguing during rehearsal. It’s awkward and no one wants to get involved.

[edengarden]

Hey if it isn't to much trouble may I please have a regular (male) haikyuu matchup please.

Basic

My height is 5'0, I have really pale skin, a lot of freckles, green eyes and wear round glasses and brown hair down to my chest area (sorry if that's weird I couldn't think of another word to describe it)

Personality traits

I'm really shy around new people but I can be somewhat loud around people who I'm,close to. Some positive traits is that I'm really nice, helpful and polite. Some negative traits is that I'm not good at communicating my feelings, I tend to accidentally repeat stories while talking to people cause I feel like I don't really have much to talk about.I'm a Capricorn, I'm a Infj-a/infj-t. And my Hogwarts house is a hufflepuff.

Music taste

I listen to almost anything,classic rock, indie, some country music (mostly early talyor swift),musical theater, classical music.

Hobbies

I'm not very athetic and I'm not a big fan of sports but I love to go roller/ice skating. I also love to cook/bake. And I love to read. I've also been playing the violin for 6 years now.

Fun facts

I love animals and I'm planning on becoming a wildlife veterinarian. I love nature/animal documentaries. I also love horror movies. I love oversized sweaters/jackets and long dresses.

I hope this is ok, sorry if I spelt anything wrong, also I hope I'm not bothering you :)

You’ve been playing violin for six years?? That’s AMAZING!! And here I am,, with my good old saxophone,, and I haven’t practiced in two months 🤡

I’m matching you up with Lev!

First of all, buddy is a blabbermouth; honestly he can talk for two (or more) people. But I think he does it in such a way that when you do feel like adding little things here and there to the conversation, it doesn’t feel awkward at all. But once you get comfy with Lev? Chaotic duo. And you could be repeating the same story once a day and he would STILL listen. It’s totally not because sometimes he forgets things no, of course not (it is). But still this guy gets so hyped over anything and especially if it’s something you’re passionate about? Oh my lord.

I?? Don’t know why?? But a veterinarian with Lev?? Is so sweet?? I just really think he’d be amazed by what you do and he totally thinks it’s worth bragging about (he WILL brag when you’re not around I swear). This guy is naturally cheerful but you’re basically his pride and joy. No one knew he could get even more passionate about something until they bring you up. AND WE CANT FORGET THE FACT THAT YOURE A VIOLINIST. He will 100% ask you to “teach him” but like?? Okay but are you patient, Lev? And Lev is here like “NO TALK. ONLY TEACH.” He tends to get a bit... “annoying”, and believe it or not it does sort of weigh on him but when you tell him otherwise?? My god he sort of melts

(WHEW I WENT OFF ON THIS ONE)

Songs!!

- You’re My Best Friend, Queen

- Secret Tunnel, CJ Music (somewhere out there, there is a viral video with this song playing and its Lev doing some stupid shit when you two were out on a midnight date. When I say it went viral, it went VIRAL)

- You Make Me Feel So Young, Frank Sinatra

- Moonage Daydream, David Bowie