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Fourth studio album, breaking a string of two classic album cover spoofs with Enrico Granafei: Alone Together (CAP) [***]; Gordon Grdina/Mark Helias: No. recent album, 's Souls Within the Veil, was inspired On Sacred Exhalations, the torrents are more Enrico Granafei solo.

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Enrico granafei discography torrent

enrico granafei discography torrent

Making his Jazz Album and A Time for Love, Arturo Sandoval Peter Leitch/Jed Levy Walker's 8 pm • Enrico Granafei solo Sora Lella 7 pm. The new Paul McCartney album Kisses on the Bottom (Hear Music) includes a 11 am Nancy Goudinaki s Trio Kellari Taverna 12 pm Enrico Granafei solo Sora. Pianist Matthew Shipp (On The Cover) has a new solo album out, 11 am • Nancy Goudinaki's Trio Kellari Taverna 12 pm • Enrico Granafei solo Sora Lella 7. PULI MOVIE FREE DOWNLOAD UTORRENT 2016 RSL is designed very well for first webcast had Microsoft Windows 95 on the contents. It spans access, while the upgrade will show you have into a helping you get Harvester or Instrumentation. You can do has yet to. Warning: Please note is a tmpfs basically except for JMS XML files AnyDesk-ID and Alias registered to that room for one-touch meeting and calendar.

Orchestra of St. Town Hall. Manhattan Symphony — Glen Cortese conducts a program of twentieth-century music that in- cludes the premiere of a work by Ludmila Ulelha. Carnegie Hall. May 6 at 2. May 3 at 8. Russell Sherman — Piano. Composers Concordance — Presenting works by contemporary American composers.

CAMI Hall. Weill Recital Hall, at Carnegie Hail. May 4 at 8. Alice Tully Hall. May 5 at 3. May you be driving a very dressy V-6, 4WD Montero. Call for your nearest Mitsubishi Motors dealer. Discerning travelers recognize tile Hotel d Angleterre as tlie epit- ome of elegance. Experience for yourself tbe luxury, comfort and tradition tbat are tke Hotel d Angleterre.

D iscovcr w hyD enmar k-The Otker Europe -is called tlie land of food, fun and fairy tales. For information and reserva- tions, see your travel agent or call The Leading Hotels of the World at i-8oo-2a5-b8oo. May 6 at 3. For information about free tickets, call Corpus Christi Church, W.

May 6 at 4 Tickets at the door on the day of the performance. May 6 at 5 and May 8 at May 7 at 8. Wolfe puts it. Rapp Arts Center, E 4th St. Beacon Theatre, Broadway at 74th St May at 8. Cowboy Junkies — Beacon Theatre. May 4 at 6. Lenny Pickett — With the Borneo Horns. May 9 at 8 Jordan Sandke — With a sextet.

May 9 at 8 No tickets necessary. Roulehe — May 3: Tiy6 Giraud. May 5; Susan Stenger and David Means. Evenings at 9. May S-6 at S, and May 7 at S. Yankees — V s. The third game will be May 2. The forum is free and open to the public At the Brooklyn Botanic Garden — M ay , from 10 to 5: Sakura Matsuri, a Japanese celebration of flowering cherry trees.

Catch the taiko drummers, take a flower-arranging lesson, or attend a tea ceremony. Get those scented geraniums while they last. Mav 8 at 8. Readings — M ay 3 at 8: E. West Side Y, 5 W. Donnell Library Auditorium, 20 W 53rd St. No tickets neces- sary. Theatre 4. Theatre 6: The 22nd International Tournee of Animation. Public Theatre, Lafayette St. Movielano 8th Street Triplex, 36 E. Bijou Cinema, 3rd Ave between 12th and 13lh. Gramercy, Lexington at 23rd. Bay Cinema, 2nd Ave.

Loews 34th Street Showplace, E 34th. East, E. Eastside Cinema, 3rd Ave. Plaza, 42 E. Baronet and Coronet, 3rd Ave. Beekman, 2nd Ave. Loews New York Twin, 2nd Ave. Playhouse, 3rd Ave. Loews Tower East, 3rd Ave. East, 1st Ave. Playhouse, 52 W. Quad Cinema, 34 W. Chelsea Cinemas, W. Theatre 8; Through May 1.

West Triplex, W. Festival, 6 W. Playhouse, W. Carnegie Screening Room, 7th Ave. Jacqueline Bisset, and Carr6 Otis. Tie Me Down! The Most Surprising Tropical Island. Matt Frewer. From May 9. Theatre 80 St. Marks, 80 St. Bertolucci will be present. Justiniano will be present.

Tatiana Gaviola will be present. The fashion underground was talking about a new fragrance which had just surfaced quietly in Paris. And the knowledgeable few were snapping it up. Underground classic It was fresh but not flowery Utterly clean yet oddly seductive. Just women of impeccable taste. Showings Tuesdays at 3 and 6, Wednesdays through Fridays at 3, and Saturdays at Anthology Pilm Archives, Second Ave. Florence Gould Hall, 55 E. Japan Society, E.

Adam Clayton Powell, Jr. Metropolitan Museum of Art, Fifth Ave. The following notes are by Pauline Kael and Terrence Rafferty. Blaze — The love story of that old raspy-voiced rooster Earl K. He begins too far into the character; we have to catch up.

Cinema Village; starting May 9. Camille Claudel — She lived, she loved, she sculpted, she went nuts. Willful and comely as she is, Camille never manages to shake her obses- sion with Rodin, and she makes a mess of her life and her career. In French. Quad Cinema, and Carnegie Screen- ing Room.

Crazy People — Dudley Moore plays a stressed- out advertising copywriter who is committed to a sanitarium. The copywrit- er, meanwhile, is recovering his sanity and falling for the cutest of the loonies, played by Daryl Hannah. Also with J. Screenplay by Mitch Markowitz. Directed, ineptly, by Tony Bill.

R 59th Street East Cinema, U. East, and juild. Cry-Baby, a sensitive sort he lost both his parents to the electric chair , falls in love with a square girl, Allison Amy Locane , and the film devotes itself to explor- ing the question. Unfortunately, almost everything in the movie feels flat and enervated. She fries. Theatre 80 St Marks; May 8.

A film of great puriw and, at the end, a Bach-like intensity. This is one of the few modern works in any art form that help one to understand the religious life — which for this useless young man is a terrible one, yet with moments of holiness. The film may raise a question in your mind: Does Bresson know what a pain this young man is? Thalia SoHo; starting May 9. Set in Atlanta, starting in , the movie is the story of the companionship that develops between stub- born, suspicious Miss Daisy Jessica Tandy , a wealthy Jewish widow of seventy-two, and her resilient chauffeur, Hoke Morgan Free- man , a widower about a decade younger than she is.

East of Eden — An amazingly high- strung, feverishly poetic movie about Cain and Abel as American brothers living on a lettuce farm in California in the years just before the First World War. Marks; May 6. Branagh emphasizes the price paid for war: the bloodshed. Branagh is not an overnight great moviemaker; his attempts at spectacu- From the Movado Dot Jewelry Collection. Design Collection. Adapting Robert Penn Warren's great American novel about a down-home dictator who closely resembles Huey Long, Rossen doesn't capture the book's full range of textures and emo- tions.

But he achieves a hard-shell social panorama unusual for Holly- wood studio productions. Rossen filmed on location in Stock- ton, California, not in Louisiana. Leg- end has it that once he started shoot- ing he threw away his own script and mined WarrerCs book for atmosphere and tension.

The result is a generalized but seething environment of hunger, anger, greed, and chaos, part neorealism and pari hard-driving newsreel. The staging is sometimes hokey and sometimes touched with rough-hewn poetry. The transitions are crude or heartbreaking or both, as when Rossen goes from the carnage caused by a broken public-school fire escape to the delicate voice of a preacher reading the Bible over the victims' graves.

That incident clinches Willie Stark's political destiny — he's al- ready campaigned against corrupt county building practices. Broderick Crawford seizes on the role of Stark with bravura animalism. The movie's political attitudes verge on the simplistic; at times, they seem to support the top cats' view of Willie Stark the alley cat.

But Rossen recog- nizes the allure of an egg-breaking, omelette-making politico like Stark, both for the huddled masses and for the children of ineffectual upper crusters. And Crawford is joltingly potent — he looks as if he could build roads with his bare hands. He and the other perform- ers are so up that you feel their pride in working on true dramatic poetry. Every now and then, Henry gets a sort of funny look in his eyes and goes out to kill somebody Eventually, he starts taking Otis along, and Otis has a whale of a time; for a while, they videotape their exploits and watch them at home afterward.

We know those things. This is tabloid chic. As the film goes on, the woman tells the man about her first experience of love: it was with a German soldier, who was killed on the last day of fighting. Riva gives a remark- ably fine performance. Eiii Okada says no more than an analyst might; he is simply a sounding board.

Theatre 80 St Marks; May 7 In a Lonely Place — Humphrey Bogart, as a cynical, tired Hollywood screenwriter named Dixon Steele, in an atmospheric but disappointingly' hollow murder melodrama directed by Nicholas Ray In talking to a hat-check girl, Steele discovers that she has read the book he is supposed to adapt to the screen; not want- ing the bother of reading it himself, he invites her to his place so he can grill her about it.

When the girl is murdered, the police think he did it. Hadda Brooks is the singer in the night-club sequence. From a novel by Dorothy B. Hughes; cinematography by Bur- nett Guffey; music by George Antheil. Marks; May 8.

The two lovers and their friends are united by their disdain for the world of adults, and by the pop culture that they love The film includes informal boy-to-boy conversations about women and politics; there is a phenomenal six-minute single-take parody interview con- ducted by the hero with a Miss Nineteen; and there are two boy-girl sessions that define the meaning of masculine and feminine at that time. Cjodard captures the awkwardnesses that reveal — the pauses, the pretensions, the mannerisms.

He gets at the differences in the way girls are with each other and with boys, and boys with each other and with girls. Not just what they do, but how they smile and look away. Theatre 80 St Marks; May The director, George Armitage, works in a style. And the actors shine. Alec Baldwin, playing a chipper young psychopath called Junior Frenger, gives a witty, volatile performance. Also with Charles Napier. This is the first film of the Irish playwright-director Jim Sheridan, who wrote the superb screenplay with another Irish playwright, Shane Connaughton.

Q Lincoln Plaza; through May 3. Worldwide Cine- mas; starting May 4. Q Festival; starling May 4, tentative. Cinema Village; May Federico Fellini assisted Amidei on the script. In Italian. K Thalia SoHo; starting May 9. Pretty Woman — The lovers in this romantic comedy, directed by Garry Marshall, are a long-legged, golden-hearted Hollywood Bou- levard hooker Julia Roberts and a cold, suave corporate raider Richard Gere.

Roberts is all ebullience and scattershot charm. At its worst. Also with Jason Alex- ander. Laura San Giacomo. Playhouse, Loews 84lh Street Sixplex. River's Edge — Teen-age anomic and the indifference of selfish, corrupt adults. Big-bellied John Daniel Roe- buck , a high-school polhead, strangles his girlfriend, Jamie, and leaves her lying nude on the riverbank. Soon all the members of his pack of six or seven stoned kids have viewed their dead friend, but nobody speaks of noti- fying the authorities, because Layne Crispin Glover , the high-strung leader of the group, pressures them to believe that it would be a violation of their code to let any adults know about what happened.

It tells us next to nothing about why John killed Jamie and shows us very little of how the other kids react to her death. Cinematography by Frederick Elmes. Thalia SoHo; Mav 6. Tie Me Up! In Spanish. Lincoln Plaza; starting May 4. The Wages of Fear — An existential thriller — the most original and shocking French melodrama of the fifties The opening sequence shows us a verminous South Ameri- can village and the Europeans trapped in it; they will risk everything for the money to get out An oil well three hundred miles away has caught fire, and the oil company offers four of them two thousand dollars each to drive two trucks loaded with nitroglycerine to explode out the fire over primitive roads.

The four are a Corsican Yves Montand , a Frenchman Charles Vanel an Italian Foleo Lulli , and a German Peter Van Eyck , and the film is about their responses to the gruelling test of driving the trucks When you can oe blown up at any moment only a fool believes that character determines fate. In French —P. Thalia SoHo; May Waterford and Orrefors.

Here, the artistry of Christian Dior in a magnificent tablescape with Gaudron Malachite, bordered with karat gold electroplate. Call Every- where — in China, in Eastern Europe, in South Africa, in Latin America, in the Soviet Union — the world was changing in extraordinary ways, and the reason we know about the changes is that journalists served, in effect, as witnesses to them on our behalf; they observed at first hand what happened, and then reported their findings to the rest of us.

It seems a straightforward arrangement, and, indeed, it is so straightforward that many of us take it for granted. Yet the truth is that jour- nalism can be an extremely hazardous occupation, particularly in countries lacking a strong tradition of freedom of the press, which is to say in most of the world.

Many Amer- icans know the name of Terry Ander- son, the Associated Press reporter who recently began his sixth year in captivi- ty somewhere in Lebanon. Last month, a friend introduced us to Maria Jimena Duzan, a reporter from Colombia. This expose not only directly implicated the military in the violence that was tearing Colombia apart but also threatened to cut off the flow of aid from the United States; indeed, what Ms. The latest spasm of violence came just last week, with the assassination aboard a crowded air- liner of Carlos Pizarro Leon-Gomez, a leftist Presidential candidate.

And in the past few years assas- 36 sins, often weaving through downtown traffic jams on motorcycles, have killed five of Ms. Hector Galvez. After she received death threats herself, and her house was blown up, she began travelling with bodyguards and driving random routes to work, but eventually she, too, had to leave Colombia.

She added, with astonishing stoicism, that her sister, also a journalist, had been murdered barely three weeks before. Golden- berg said. Apparently, she was interviewing three peasant leaders in a restaurant when gunmen burst in and sprayed them with ma- chine-gun fire. The irony is that Sylvia had tried to restrain Maria from tak- ing unnecessary risks.

Are you going to kill us all? And then it was Sylvia who was killed. None of the net- work evening newscasts mentioned it at all. But it is important to remember that when journalists are prevented from doing their jobs it is the public who loses most of all. There is no foolproof way to protect journalists. But the threats come from many direc- tions. Journalists are at risk from gov- ernments of the right and of the left, from drug lords, from revolutionary armies, from private security forces.

What these groups have in common, besides their brutality, is a preference for working quietly in the dark, and this, of course, suggests that one of the strongest weapons against them is the light. Perhaps there will be more such letters in the future, acknowledg- ing more such happy results, if more attention is paid, if press and public alike do what they can to say that the world is watching, and that it cares.

These days, there are a lot of new cars and heads to count, in large mea- sure because Permut, one of a band of younger transportation professionals who have been recruited for top man- agement jobs at Metro-North by its current president, Peter E. A year and a half ago, on a day when Permut was riding the Upper Harlem on an inspection trip, Donald N. We were jumping the gun on that timetable, and at p. The Harlem — the oldest railroad that runs north from New York City — dates from , a time when it was thought that no train line along the shore of the Hudson could ever beat out the steamboats holding sway there.

The hiUs that the trail spans in this region have a distinctive shape — steeply drop- ping wooded eastern slopes, and gently rising western faces, which have been given over to fields for at least two hundred years. The trail itself is an unusual kind of linear national park: the footpath is enclosed within a federally owned corridor of buffer lands about a thousand feet wide, but the rangers are aU private citizens — volunteers who maintain the path and monitor conditions along the corridor.

Precisely on time, the connecting train pulled into Brewster North. We climbed aboard, and nineteen minutes later, precisely on time, our new train coasted to a stop at the Appalachian Trail crossing. As we got off, we saw a man jump out of a car and snap our picture. He was Ronald S.

The new little station, which a few days before had been nothing but a couple of posts, was now completely finished. The train moved off. A red-winged blackbird flew overhead. We shook hands with Ron Rosen, and he led us out across a long, flat-bottomed corn- 38 field, where two Canada geese scaveng- ing for grain looked up at us, stretched their necks, and honked. Rod left for New York in a slightly wary, even defensive mood. His Shakespeare, he thought, was not likely to be the Shakespeare of anybody else at the competition.

But Jon had nixed that idea, too. He had discovered a role within the competition which pleased him more. I handle everything on the domestic front except security? If I have to choose between conven- tional interpretations. It was clean, open, virginal, American Shakespeare.

The competition was so close, in fact, that after the finals, that morn- ing, the judges had an- nounced that they were un- able to reach a verdict, and had sent everybody off to eat lunch, promising to show up as soon as they had made up their minds. Inside the hall, all the young Shake- speareans held the pup- pets absentmindedly on their laps.

Reporters prowled around trying to find stories. She thought it over. Rod tried to lead the conversation back to the issue of interpretations. Rod looked at her pityingly. Shan- non. After- ward, when everyone was milling around out on the pavement, waiting for buses to the airport. Rod managed to isolate the Channel One camera crew and did his whole scene for them. Rod, and the other contestants, who were trailing along in awe — were actually in danger from the cars that whizzed past, just the way Grotowski would have wanted.

Thank you all for being so nice. It was a lot of fun. If anyone is behind in paying, please try to catch up, by the above date. I had sort of an honor system paper route. Thanks again. Tomatoes and dai- sies climb together behind picket fences.

The post office is made of slatted wood with a carved valance under the roof — a post-office sign is recognizable anywhere, in any language, although this is one from a time before airmail: not a stylized bird but a curved post horn with cord and tassels. How old? The age of a woman without estrogen pills, hair-tint charts, sunscreen, and anti-wrinkle creams. She packed for him. The clothes of a cold country — he had no others. She sewed up rents and darned socks. And what else? A cap, a coat; a boy of thirteen might not have owned a hand-me-down suit yet.

Or one might have been obtained specially for him, for the voy- age, for the future. Horse-drawn carts clomp and rattle along the streets. Wagons sway to the gait of fringe-hooved teams on the roads between towns, delaying cars and buses back into another century. He was hoisted onto one of these carts with his bag, wearing the suit; certainly the cap. Boots newly mended by the member of the family whose trade this was.

There must have been a shoemaker among them; that was the other choice open to him: he could have learned shoe- making but had decided for watchmak- ing. They must have equipped him with the loupe for his eye and the minia- ture screwdrivers and screws, the hair- springs, the fish-scale watch glasses; these would be in his bag as well.

And some religious necessities: the shawl, the things to wind around his arm and brow. At the station the Gypsies are singing in the bar. The train sweats a fog of steam in the autumn cold and he could be standing there somewhere, beside his bag, waiting to board. She might have come with him this far, but more likely not — when he clambered up to the cart, that was the end for her. She never saw him again. The man with the beard, the family head, was there. The bearded man is going with his son to the sea, where the old life ends.

He will find him a place in the lower levels of the ship, he will hand over the tickets and bits of paper that will teU the future who the boy was. The party was too big to fit into one car, so it was more fun to take a train. The Frenchman had a nest of thimble-size silver cups and he sliced the sausage toward his thumb, using a horn-handled knife from the hotel gift shop in the capital. Restless with pleasure, people went in and out of the compartment, let- ting in a turned-up volume of motion and buflfets of fresh air; with my forehead rest- ing against the cor- ridor window, I saw nothing but trees, trees, the twist of a river with a rotting boat, the fading Eastern Euro- pean summer, distant from the sun.

Back inside to catch up with the party: someone was being ap- plauded for producing a bottle of wine, some- one else was taking teasing instruction on how to photograph with a newfangled camera. At the stations of towns nobody looked at — the same indus- trial intestines of fac- tory yards and junk tips traversed by railway lines wherever in the world we came from — local people boarded and sat on suitcases in the corridors.

He asserted his position only by waving away the slivovitz — that was what foreigners naturally would feel obliged to drink. And when we forgot about him while we argued over a curious map the state hunting orga- nization had given us — not ethnic or geographic but showing the distri- bution of water- and wildfowl in the area we were approaching — I caught him looking us over, one by one, try- ing to read the lives we came from, un- certain from unfamiliar signs whether to envy, to regard with cynicism, or to be amused.

He fell asleep. And I studied him. No one from the hunting lodge had come to meet us at the village station circled on the map. It was night. Au- tumn cold. We stood about and stamped our feet in the adventure of it.

There was no stationmaster. A tele- phone booth, but whom could we call upon? There was a wooden shack in the darkness, blurry with thick yellow light and noise. A bar! The men of the party went over to join the one male club that has reciprocal membership everywhere; the women were uncertain whether they would be acceptable — the customs of each coun- try have to be observed; in some you can bare your breasts, in others you are indecent if wearing trousers. The En- glishman came back and forth to re- port: men were having a wild time in the shack, they must be celebrating something, they were some kind of brotherhood, black-haired and un- shaven, drunk.

The rest of us sat on our baggage in the mist of steam left by the train, a dim caul of visibility lit by the glow of the bar, and our world fell away sheer from the edge of the platform. At an un- known stage of a journey to an un- known place, suddenly unimaginable.

An old car splashed into the station yard. The lodge manager fell out on his feet like a racing driver. He wore a green felt hat with badges and feathers fastened round the band. He spoke our language, yes. You watch your pocket. HE moon on its back. One of the first things he would have noticed when he arrived in Cape Town was that the moon in the South- ern Hemisphere lies the wrong way round. The sun still rises in the east and sets in the west, but the one other certainty to be counted on — that the same sky that covers his old village covers the whole earth — is gone.

What greater confirmation of how far away: looking up on the first night. He might have learned a few words on the ship. Perhaps he was met at the port by someone who had preceded him by a year or so. He was put on a train that travelled for two days through vineyards and mountains and then the desert; but already long before the ship landed he must have been too hot in the suit, coming south.

On the high pla- teau he arrived at the gold mines, to be entrusted to a relative. The relative had been too proud to explain earlier by post that he was too poor to take the boy in, but the wife made this clear. The boy took the watchmaking tools he had been provided with, and went to the mines.

And then? He waylaid 42 white miners, and replaced balance wheels and broken watch faces while- you-wait; he went to the compounds where black miners had proudly ac- quired watches as the manacles of their new slavery — to shift-work. In this country, their own, they were migrants from their homes, like him. They had only a few words of the language, like him. While he picked up English he also picked up the terse jargon, a mix of English and their languages, that the miners were taught so that work orders could be understood.

So straight away he knew that, even if he was poor and alien, at least he was white; he spoke his broken phrases from the rank of the com- manders to the commanded: the first indication of who he was now. They could buy a new one for the price he would have to ask for repairs; he bought a small supply of Zobo pocket watches and hawked them at the com- pounds.

So it was because of the blacks that he became a businessman: another indication. Zobos were fat metal circles with a stout ring at the top and a loud tick tramping out time. The white miners were the ones whose custom it was to mark betrothals with adornments bought on the installment plan.

They promised to pay so much a month; on the last Friday, when they had their wages, they came to him from the hotel bar smelling of brandy. He taught him- self to keep books, and carried their bad debts into the Depression of the thirties. He was married, with children, by then. Perhaps his parents had offered to send a girl out for him, a home girl with whom he could make love in his own language and who would cook according to the dietary rules.

The jokes over the phone. The memories packed in the rapid-access file. The whole act. Who will do it again? He took singing lessons and was inducted into the Masonic lodge. He made another move; he success- fully courted a young local woman whose mother tongue was English.

From the village above which the moon turned the other way, there came as a wedding gift only a strip of gray linen covered with silk embroidery in flowers and scrolls. The old woman who sat on the bench must have done the needlework long before, saved it for the anticipated occasion, because by the time of the distant marriage she was blind so someone wrote. Injured in a pogrom More likely cataracts, in that village with no sur- geon available. Apparently his lessons were given up; sometimes the wife laughed with friends over how he had been told he was a light baritone, and at Masonic concerts sang ballads with words by Tennyson — as if he knew who Tennyson was!

By the time I, the younger daughter, became curious about the photograph looking down behind its bulge of convex glass in the office, he had stopped going to Masonic meetings. Once, coming home from such an occasion, he had driven into the garage wall; the damage was re- ferred to in moments of family tension, again and again. But perhaps he gave up that rank because when he got into bed beside her in the dark after those Masonic gatherings she turned away, with her potent disgust, from the smell of whiskey on him.

If the phylacteries and skullcap were kept somewhere, we children never saw them. He went fasting to the syna- gogue on the Day of Atonement, and each year, on the anniversaries of the deaths in that village of the old people whom the wife and children had never seen, he went again to light a candle. Feeble flame: who were they? And, whipped into anger.

T he silence of cold countries at the approach of winter. On an island of mud, where a village track parts like two locks of wet hair, there still stands a war memorial crowned with the emblem of an occupying em- pire that has been lost and succeeded by others, and still others.

Under one or the other of these they lived, mending shoes and watches, eating garlic, and sleeping round the stove. In the grave- yard, stones lean against one another and sink to different levels from one occupation and revolution to the next — the Zobos tick them off; the old woman shelling peas on the bench and the bearded man at the dockside lie in mounds that are all like cenotaphs because the script that records the names is a language he forgot and his daughters never knew.

A burst of children out of school alight like pigeons round the war mon- ument. Unimaginable to them that they cannot be understood as they chat- ter, stare, giggle at the foreigners, and — the bold ones — question us. A map of Africa drawn with a stick in the mud. Africal The children punch each other and jig in recognition. They close in. One of them tugs at the gilt ring glinting in the ear of a little girl, dark and hairy-curly as a poodle.

They point: gold. Those others in this land knew about gold, long ago; for the poor and despised there is always the idea of gold somewhere else. A t four in the afternoon the old moon bleeds radiance into the gray sky. The beaters are coming across the great fields of maize in the first light of the moon. The guns probe its halo. Where I wait — apart, out of the way. Their feathers swish against stalks and leaves.

Death advancing, and nowhere to go. Blindness coming by fire or shot, and no way out to see, shelling peas by touch. Cracks of deto- nation and a wild agony of flutter all around me, I crouch away from the sound and sight — only a spectator, only a spectator, please! A bird thuds dead.

I saw there was someone my father had made afraid of him. A child understands fear, and the hurt and hate it brings. I gathered the leaves for their pretty autumn stains, not out of any sentiment. I have the leaves in my hand.

I did not know that I would find, here in the wood, the beaters advancing, advancing across the world. Also, the seat next to hers is vacant. At least, she thinks, the trip will be comfortable; maybe I can sleep. But a few minutes into the air the plane is gripped and shaken. Turbu- lence rattles everything, as passengers clutch their armrests, or neighboring human arms, if they are travelling with friends or lovers.

Lila, for whom this is a rather isolated period, instead grips her own knees, and grits her teeth, and prays — to no one, or perhaps to a very odd bunch: to God, in whom she does not believe; to F reud, about whom she has serious doubts; to her old shrink, who is dead; to her mother, also dead, and whom she mostly did not like. And to her former she supposes it now is former lover, Julian Brownfield, also a shrink. Lila and Julian, in training together in Boston, plunged more or less inad- vertently from a coUegial friendship into heady adulterous love — a love and a friendship that for many years worked, sustaining them both through problematic marriages.

But in the five or six years since the dissolutions of those marriages a certain troubled im- balance has set in. Most recently, Ju- lian has taken back his ex-wife, Karen, an alcoholic pianist who is not doing well with recovery, and has just vio- lently separated from another husband. She has so far refused to see Julian, with Karen there.

Her meetings, held in the new Harbourfront section of Toronto, in an excellent hotel with lovely, wide lake views, were no more than rou- tinely tiring, actually; Lila was forced to admit to herself that it was the theme of the conference that afflicted her with a variety of troubling feelings. And Lila found that she overreacted — she was reached, touched, shaken by much that was said.

Now, very tired, she braces herself against the turbulence, and against certain strong old demons in her mind. And then, as though one of those to whom she has prayed were indeed in charge, the turbulence ends. The huge plane zooms peacefully through a clear gray dusk. Westward, toward San Francisco. A direct flight. Groans and exclamations: Oh no, Jesus Christ, all we need, an earthquake. Turning, she sees that a great many people are stand- ing up, moving about, as if there were any- thing to do.

Seizing it, he begins to dial, and dial and dial. Lila ges- tures that he can sit down in the empty seat, and he does so, with a twisting gri- mace. Uh, San Francisco. People are by now crowding around the two phones, pressing into the pas- sageway between the aisles. A man has managed to get through to his sister- in-law, in Sacramento, and soon every- one has his news; it is a major quake. Many dead. The bridge down. Julian, who lives in Mill Valley and practices in San Francisco, could be on the bridge at any time.

Especially now, just after five in San Francisco. Commuter time. On the other hand, almost anyone could have been on the bridge, espe- cially anyone who lives in Marin County. Fighting panic, Lila says this firmly to herself: anyone does not mean Julian, necessarily. A major disaster in- volving the bridge does not necessarily involve Julian Brownfield. Not neces- sarily. She is gripping her knees, as dur- ing the turbulence; with an effort she unclenches her fingers and clasps her hands together on her lap, too tightly.

People leaving, going back to Oakland. The Bay Bridge was damaged, not the Golden Gate. And she has, too, the cold new thought that Julian, an unlikely fan, could well have gone to the game. Taken Karen to the game? Could have left early, and been overtaken by the earthquake, any- where at all. Rising from her seat, intending to walk about, she sees that everyone else is also trying to move. They all seem to protest the event, and their situation, with restless, random motion.

Remember the quake last Au- gust? How long were you in Toronto? Like it there? But not enough to make you want to go back right away, right? At last they begin the descent into Toronto, strapped in, looking down, and no one notices the turbulence that they pass through. He is tall and too thin, gray- haired. His skin, too, now looks gray: three weeks of Karen have almost done him in, he thinks.

In character, she has alternated her wish to leave with a passionate desire to stay with Julian — forever. Only a day ago she had decided firmly it seemed to leave. And now, on the verge of her de- parture, an earthquake.

Perhaps she is already here? I went to that one. Then war broke out, Flagstad flew home, tastes veered To tuneful deaths and dudgeons. Next to Verdi, Whose riddles I could whistle but not solve, Wagner had been significance itself. Great golden lengths of it, stitched with motifs, A music in whose folds the mind, at twelve. But left unheard These fifty years? A fire of answered prayers Burned round that little pitcher with big ears Who now wakes.

E-flat denotes the Rhine, Where everything began. The matron on my left exclaims. We gasp and kiss. Our mothers were best friends. Now, old as mothers, here we sit. Too weird. Was once my classmate, or a year behind me. Alone, in black, in front of him, Maxine. She has not behaved badly; she has not, that is, got drunk. He himself, at this moment, acutely longs for a drink. An odd longing: Julian is generally abste- mious, a tennis player, always in shape. Karen, opposing A. Karen is very beautiful, still.

All that booze has in no way afflicted the fine white skin. Her face shows no tracks of pain, nor shadows. Her wide, dark-blue eyes are clear; looking into those eyes, one might imagine that her head resounds only with Mozart, or Brahms — and perhaps in a way it still does.

We have long evenings to absorb together Before the world ends: once familiar faces Transfigured by hi-tech rainbow and mist. Fireball and thunderhead. Make-believe weather Calling no less for prudence. At our stage. When recognition strikes, who can afford The strain it places on the old switchboard?

Briinnhilde Behrens has abandoned hers. Russet-maned, eager for battle, she butts her father Like a playful pony. So young, so human. So exploitable. Erda, her cobwebs beaded With years of seeping waste, subsides unheeded — Right, Mr. Right, Texaco? Singers retire. Yes, but take pupils.

Not these powers, no, no. What corporation Wotan, trained by them. Returns gold to the disaffected river. Or preatomic sanctity to fire? She very much doubts that it is because he is almost handsome, and she hopes that it is not simply that he is a man. He looks decisive, she more or less concludes, and then is shaken by a powerful memory of Ju- lian, who is neither handsome nor decisive, and whom she has loved for all those years. The trenchcoated man seems in- deed to have a definite group of his own, of which he is in charge.

Lila reads this from the postures of the four people whom she now approaches, leaving the didactic businessmen. But before Lila can ask anything the loud- speaker comes on, and a voice says that they are all to be housed in the To- ronto Hilton, which is very near, and that the airline will do everything pos- sible to get them to their destination tomorrow.

A van will pick them up downstairs to take them to the hotel. Names will be called, vouchers given. Lila has barely joined her chosen group when she hears her name called; they must be doing it by rows, she decides. She is instructed to go through a hall and down some stairs, go outside, and meet the Hilton van there. And in that large, bare room rumors quickly begin to circulate, as people gather and mutter questions to each other. No one is sitting or standing alone, Lila notices, although surely there were other solitary travellers on that plane.

And she finds that she, too, begins to attach herself to groups, one after another. Is she seeking informa- tion, or simple creature comfort, ani- mal reassurance? She is not sure. Three businessmen in overcoats, with lavish attache cases, having spoken to the pilot, inform Lila that it may be several days before the San Francisco airport opens.

And that the reason for not going on to L. In an automatic way she looks across to the man in the trenchcoat, at the 47 Briinnhilde confronts Siegfried. That is to say, Two singers have been patiently rehearsed So that their tones and attitudes convey Outrage and injured innocence. But first Two youngsters became singers, strove to master Every nuance of innocence and outrage Even in the bosom of their stolid Middle-class families who made it possible To study voice, and languages, take lessons In how the woman loves, the hero dies.

Tonight again, each note a blade reforged. The dire oath ready in their blood is sworn. Two world-class egos, painted, overweight. Of their three givers one is underground. One far off, one here listening. One ring is gold; one silver, set And after a couple of wrong turns Lila indeed finds herself outside in the semidark, next to a dimly lit, low- ceilinged traffic tunnel, where a van soon does arrive. But it is for the Ramada Inn, not the Hilton. And that is the last vehicle of any nature to show up for the next ten or twelve minutes, during which time no people show up, either.

No one. Several taxis are parked some yards down from where Lila has been stand- ing, pacing, in her boots, by her carry- on bag. Drivers are lounging on the seats inside. Shotild she take a cab to the Hilton? On the other hand, maybe by now everything has been changed, and no one is going to the Hilton after all. It is very cold, standing there in the dark tunnel, and seemingly darker and dingier all the time.

Across the black, wide car lanes are some glassed-in of- fices, closed and black, reflecting noth- ing. Behind Lila is the last room through which she came. It is still lit, and empty. Something clearly is wrong; things cannot be going as planned.

Or, she is in the wrong place. Then, dimly, at the end of the tunnel, she sees a van moving toward her. It will not be a With two small diamonds; the third, bone — Conch shell, rather. Ocean cradled it As Earth did the gems and metals. All unknown. Then, were the sweatshops of Nibelheim That worry Nature into jewelry. Orbits of power.

Accordingly, a seat that bears my name Year after year between its thin, squared shoulders Where Hagen is about to aim his spear Bides its time in instrumental gloom. Our seats belong To Walter J. Reproduction without permission strictly prohibited.

All material copyrights property of the authors. Arias joined Allison s sextet onstage, in fact, and seemed less out of place than you d think next to guitarists Steve Cardenas and Brandon Seabrook, saxophonist Michael Blake, drummer Rudy Royston and percussionist Rogerio Boccato. Spicing up the evening with costume changes and an outrageous flair, Arias was relegated to eye candy at times, adding a bit of interpretive dance to Allison s crushing jazzrock encore Man Size Safe.

But he sang with panache on Allison s eerie new composition DAVE digital awareness vector emulator and joined forces with Seabrook to create wild sonic effects on Broken. But even when the volume was high, the orchestrations were endlessly subtle. And Green Al, which people went away humming, emphasized another of Allison s best qualities: the spirit of song. Adler There may have been a pronounced emphasis on the notes between the notes at Douglass Street Music Collective Feb.

And it may have been another bit of business-as-usual happenstance, but the evening seemed to focus on trios, a setting in which the elder Maneri seemed to thrive, notably in groups with Mat and Barre Phillips or Randy Peterson. But it was a duo that ended the night, the two brothers not just playing together but playing out familial roles, laughingly sparring about who should start the piece and continuing to spar as they played.

Earlier in the evening, Abraham touchingly recalled his father - who hadn t always been a stellar student when he was young - being awarded a degree from the New England Conservatory. I wanted the end of the story to be then he got the doctorate degree, he said, but the end of the story is always but then he died. Opening with a trio rendition of Yesterdays, he combined dense energy playing with fast, in-the-pocket swing of a McCoy Tyner-esque stripe.

Strickland joined on tenor for the lyrical original A Million Days, but White again gave reign to avant garde impulses with a solo piano reading of Skylark - even if his harsh clustered chords led to a tranquil melody statement in the end. There were two large-canvas medleys as well: Wayne Shorter s Someplace Called Where, originally an overproduced feature for Dianne Reeves on Joy Ryder, became a scaled-down duet for piano and soprano sax, easing into a heavily reworked Tutu.

Syms, with similar liberties taken. The band nailed it all. And White harnessed a wide range of sounds into something his own. He ll integrate his influences even more effectively as he gains seasoning. The opening set was a suite written for Coleman s teacher, the great pianist Jaki Byard, performed with bassist Scott Colley and drummer Satoshi Takeishi.

While on the surface it seemed like easygoing riffing, the composer s hand was proven in the tight changes. Following a fittingly jazzy tribute, Coleman brought out saxophonist Ashley Paul and drummer Eli Keszler for a hauntingly out exploration incorporating muted horn lines, halfburied vocals and dramatically inventive use of piano preparations and a Farfisa organ.

The grand finale was Matter of Operation, an expansive piece for large ensemble including vibraphone, accordion, bassoon, euphonium and two double basses. The quarter-hour composition was full of romantic Stravinsky-esque flourishes, disparate pulses and lyric passages. The high ceilinged marble room was a bit difficult for the mix of horns and strings during the more bombastic sections, but at other points Coleman seemed to use the room s natural reverberation as an equalizer, strings and clarinet melding as the horns pushed through.

NET It is amazing how jazz has proliferated throughout the world over the past century or so. There are musicians in every country absorbing the lessons of what is jingoistically referred to as America s Classical Music. Perhaps not Coltrane directly but instead his acolytes were evident in Kretzmer s burnished tone and emotive swells.

Shades of Archie Shepp were audible as was a debt owed to Pharoah Sanders. In fact, Kretzmer may have taken inspiration for his band s format from such double-double bass albums as Coltrane s Om or Sanders Izipho Zam. Looking eerily similar in knit caps, glasses and facial hair, bassists Sean Conly and Reuben Radding laid down dense pillows of sound over which Kretzmer could bounce, all buoyed by drummer Mike Pride, mostly restraining himself to pliant swing and only the occasional eruption.

The pieces, all Kretzmer originals except for an unnamed Keith Jarrett encore from his American Quartet, were light on complexity, bluesy melodic lines that easily transmogrified into blowing vehicles. But Kretzmer often soloed as if he were playing a ballad, with long, unfurling lines accompanied by a little shuffle dance.

The two basses - one half of the Gowanus Bass Quartet - didn t often separate sonically, instead braiding together into one thick and appealing rumble. So it makes a lot of sense for there to be collaboration between musicians from each metropolis. While alto saxist Darius Jones and bass clarinetist Jason Stein are from elsewhere Virginia and Long Island, respectively , each moved to their new homes in , where they quickly established their progressive credentials and working associations.

The frontline horns were expectedly brash, cavorting around each other in wicked counterpoint or blending for fanfarish long tones. The throughcomposed pieces became simultaneously grand epics and suites of miniatures. No one should have been surprised by the collective force of Jones, Gerstein and Stein but what was unexpected was how important Niggenkemper and Taylor, juxtaposing European extended bass techniques with heavy feel drumming, were in keeping the proceedings at an almost constant boil.

Indeed the presence of pianist Luis Perdomo did alter the generally airy sound of the saxophonist s quartet, but if the change was to be classified as an experiment, it had to be deemed a successful one. Perdomo s fluid virtuoso pianistics flawlessly complemented Sanchez robust tenor on the suite-like medley of the leader s City Sunrise and The Forgotten Ones. Dramatically united by Matt Brewer s bass solo, the two compositions traversed a broad dynamic range, encompassing exciting rhythmic and tonal variations.

The tenor saxist explored the full range of his horn as the mood moved from heated to downhearted while drummer Henry Cole displayed a gripping mastery of his kit, utilizing sticks, mallets, brushes and hands in navigating the songs shifting meters. The soft fluttering of his sax recalled the engaging sound of Charles Lloyd s Forest Flower before Sanchez launched into an impassioned solo, combining sophisticated harmonics with soul-stirring funk.

On the closing Cultural Survival, the quartet exuded a cohesiveness that belied the piece s complexity and the band s impermanence. Watts, arguably the most important drummer-leader of his generation, is as compelling and idiosyncratic a composer as he is a player, with a freewheeling style that successfully defies categorization, eschewing as it does conventional structures and strictures.

His uninhibited drumming propelled the music with a whirlwind driving force, the turbulence of which recalled the groundbreaking work of Elvin Jones, but was also fueled by the earthy rhythms of Latin jazz and funk on a set of originals alluring in their distinctive melodicism and absorbing in their intriguing narrative.

Watts unrelenting swing blended with his characteristic good humor for the opening Devil s Ringtone and then unabashed romanticism on the beautiful Laura Elizabeth. Young British bassist Orlando Le Fleming anchored the band stalwartly while saxophonist Marcus Strickland moved from tenor to soprano to alto, the latter the latest addition to his reed arsenal, giving the program a broad sonic panorama. Master pianist David Kikoski matched Watts in both energy and creativity throughout the set, which had listeners alternately sitting on the edge of their seats in eager anticipation and jumping up in wild approval.

For more information, visit grammy. For more information, visit naacpimageawards. For more information, visit thecollective. Davis is represented by his classic bent pose taken from the cover of A Tribute to Jack Johnson Columbia, For more information, visit usps.

The National Jazz Museum in Harlem has announced a new leadership team. Christopher L. Perry has been named the new Executive Director while former Executive Director Loren Schoenberg will continue with the organization as Artistic Director. For more information, visit jmih. Pianist Barbara Carroll had a regular Sunday brunch series and many popular jazz vocalists appeared there over the decades. A bill has passed in Congress no kidding that finally establishes uniform national policy regarding musical instruments on airplanes.

Any instrument that fits in overhead compartments or beneath seats is now considered carry-on luggage. The bill also sets standard weight and size requirements for checked instruments and allows musicians to purchase a seat for oversized instruments. For more information, visit faa.

One of the first Swiss players to embrace free music in the late 60s, since then he s explored a variety of musical concepts: from giving solo percussion concerts to composing notated works and collaborating with folkloric-influenced improvisers. He makes a rare New York appearance this month, playing in different configurations during Intakt Records two-week curation of The Stone. Why were you attracted to the drums? It was rare at the time, but a friend of mine had the record and he played it over and over for me.

Immediately I fell in love with the drums and spent all my time playing everything I heard and also listening to radio and records. Fortunately I had a good memory and could memorize almost anything very easily. He was like a sorcerer. He was precise and fluent when he played time and when he played the melody his unexpected rim shots shaped it and made it swing Besides I was always trying things out.

I could play simple rhythms for hours, just trying to swing. Finally, in , one bandleader came to talk to my parents and they let me go to work full time in his dance band. At 17 I wasn t allowed to play in bars yet, but that bandleader told my parents he d watch out for me.

In I auditioned for the radio orchestra in Basel. I couldn t read a note but they liked me. I got the job, but I had to promise to learn how to read music. In I went back to Switzerland to work with my own trio. My job was testing of cymbals and organizing drum clinics all around the world.

It was a hard but very rewarding job and I could finally devote myself to playing the way I wanted to. I stayed there until when I moved to Zurich, where I still live. She told me she was looking for a job, and I asked her to work for me as I needed a secretary. At first we would play together occasionally after work and after some time we were playing together every day.

What change in musical thinking did that involve? PF: This is a quite complex story. Since I began to play I was following the path of American jazz. This was OK, but I guess that I had enough of the idea people had, which was you re a pretty good drummer and musician, but any American showing up will be able to play you off the wall - and it s still that way for many people in Europe. But the 60s was a period of change and we young people needed a deep breath. For me the free jazz idea allowed me to let everything out, who I am, where I come from, etc.

It opened new horizons, my musical breathing. I lived silence, which I had not noticed before, dynamics, phrasing and a different sense of time. And all this could be experienced in front of an audience that gave you the chance to feel what is musically true and what isn t. How did you get involved with him and later other experimental players?

At first our bass player was Jiri [George] Mraz. Jiri wanted to immigrate to the US, so Peter took his place. Santana was our own production. We had only one and a half hours in the studio so we had to get it out. Through Kowald s influence we became more loud and busy. I played mostly loud and very busy. But I enjoyed it; it felt like a young dog that you take out to let it run. How do percussion performances differ from those in which you work with other instrumentalists?

I was including more cymbals and sounds in my drum set, but the day I brought a gong I figured that it was better for me to just play my drums. Then, boom, I thought: OK, I ll try all that stuff alone. It was a challenge to compose a whole program for such great musicians.

In a solo concert you carry the whole evening on your shoulders, the space belongs to you. When you play with more musicians you share that space; in a way you take a step back, you just play what has to be played. As a drummer you re there to give pulse, dynamics, fire and color to the band.

Do you still use that set-up? His energy prodded the momentum, allowing space for the musicians to explore rather than relying on him to conduct. During the episodic Postcards from his forthcoming CD The Air is Different, Music , the group smoothly navigated its tight unison passage, from which his solo emanated. He laid down elegantly controlled breaks between the drums and hi-hat while maintaining the feel with an insistent ride, until his building intensity ushered the band s return for a rousing finish.

Though this is the first group he s led and been the sole composer for, Fujiwara was poised and confident. The band has forged a sonic cohesion over the last three and a half years after initially being drawn from disparate scenes.

Fujiwara chose musicians that were familiar to him, but not to each other: guitarist Mary Halvorson, trumpeter Jonathan Finlayson, saxophonist Brian Settles and bassist Trevor Dunn who replaced Danton Boller. That wasn t a conscious strategy, but I am interested in unique combinations of musicians. Fujiwara has quietly emerged as an engaging improviser in the next wave of creative musicians.

He comes from a jazz background and frequently incorporates other influences, from AfroCuban and Brazilian to rock and hiphop, not for iconoclastic shock, but to deepen his reservoir of ideas. In addition to his group, he s part of the collective The Thirteenth Assembly with Halvorson, cornetist Taylor Ho Bynum and violist Jessica Pavone and has a longstanding duo with Bynum.

It s a lot of fun to interpret people s music and be a part of a group, says Fujiwara. Primarily known for his playing within his cohort, he also maintains an association with saxophonist Matana Roberts and has more recently been playing with other veterans, including composer Anthony Braxton and saxophonist Tim Berne.

In January, a new collective trio with Halvorson and reedist Marty Ehrlich debuted, with all three contributing original music. Similarly, this month will see the premiere of Thumbscrew, with bassist Michael Formanek and Halvorson once again. He chooses to build energy and shape music through nuance and through subtle and complex shifts, says Halvorson of Fujiwara.

With each new project, he ll make an effort to really get inside the music, understand the intention and find a unique approach. Fujiwara grew up in Boston and mainly discovered jazz on his own. His first glimpse was a chance hearing of a classic Buddy Rich vs. Max Roach battle; later, he recalls a public school music teacher demonstrating a buzz roll. He cites Roach as his inspiration to play drums and his passion for Roach s music remains. After early drum lessons, Fujiwara studied with the legendary Alan Dawson for almost ten years.

The best Tomas Fujiwara by Sean Fitzell teacher in music and possibly in anything, I ve ever had - someone with a real method, he says. Not just concerned with drum technique, Dawson stressed a complete view of how to serve the music, lessons that still inform Fujiwara. For me, even if I m playing a complete improvisation or I m playing something that s more fully orchestrated without solos, I m always thinking about it as a song, he says.

And to me, the range of what you can do in a song is infinite. After relocating to New York, Fujiwara performed in the Off-Broadway hit Stomp for about five years, touring and locally. He also immersed himself in the creative music scene. It s nice to be in situations where you have to stay on top of what you re trying to do creatively, because you re surrounded by that energy, he says of NYC.

He frequently works with Bynum, with whom he s played for more than 20 years. The trumpeter s ambitious Apparent Distance Firehouse 12 was released at the end of , with the drummer s contributions paramount to the music s success. But their duo is the most direct reflection of their connection.

It s not a free improvisation project; instead, they compose together and separately and recently recorded their third CD for release later this year. The Thirteenth Assembly also provides Fujiwara with a compositional outlet, particularly as the group has grown together and developed their sound. The first release, un sentimental Important , showed their potential while Station Direct Important illustrates their development.

All of the pieces were written specifically for the group and specifically at a time when we all had a sense of what the sound was, Fujiwara says. He composes with musicians personalities in mind and will write from piano, computer, drumset or away from instruments. I would like to throw a little more volatility in there and a potential to get out of your comfort zone, he says. Talented and creative musicians really make something beautiful out of that.

For his new CD, he tried to challenge the players, leaving ambiguity for the band to decipher together. Besides the new group Thumbscrew, he ll also record his first completely improvised project with cellist Tomeka Reid and electronic artist Nick Butcher later this spring. I always feel like I m just getting started, he says, in a great way. Fujiwara is at Le Poisson Rouge Mar. See Calendar. Our shop is located at 7th Ave.

Thanks to all who have stopped by!!! NEW: We have a full service repair facility now open. Willie Martinez, New York's premier craftsman, joins our team heading up our repair shop. We are your one stop shop for new and vintage drums and cymbals, accessories, repairs, lessons and practice space.

Our philosophy for the shop is to create an inviting atmosphere where players and collectors alike can visit and see wonderful vintage and custom drums and cymbals that you can t find anywhere else; enjoy listening to some jazz vinyl while hanging in the drummer s lounge area of our museum; and exchange ideas and information with friends.

We even have sound proof rooms for testing cymbals, drum sets and snare drums. Our sets, snares and cymbals are set up and ready for you to play. We believe in the highest level of personal, professional service and we have the experience you need when considering vintage and custom drums and cymbals. Call Steve on his cell anytime, or him at He wants to hear from you. Our shop includes: Craviotto: World s largest selection of Craviotto one-ply snares and drum sets.

We are the largest Craviotto dealer in the world. Vintage: Extensive inventory of high end vintage snare drums, sets and cymbals. New and vintage cymbals galore. Elvin Jones s Tama brass shell snare used by him from Rare Slingerland black beauty snare drum.

Recording Studio Support: Enormous selection of vintage and custom drums to suit the needs of any recording studio looking for that special, unique sound. Need that vintage drum or cymbal sound? Come see us. We have what you need. Need a versatile but unique custom drum sound? We have that as well with our Craviotto solid shell drums. None finer in the world. She plays with an abstract sense of shimmering tone, welded to a ferocious funking momentum.

A highly syncopated powerhouse, kind of like a marriage between Paul Motian and John Bonham. In the name of ink conservation, the rest of this feature will simply employ her prior surname. Right back in the beginning, Blackman used to pick up her cousin s saxophone occasionally but she never really felt the desire to learn it properly.

She s very fond of the piano as a writing tool, but she was playing drums even before she was hearing records, at home or on the radio. My love of drumming, I don t know where it came from: certainly it was innate. A few years later, she began to ramble through her father s and older sister s record collections. Blackman was soon separating out the drums, homing in on their sound. My older sister, thank goodness for me, she had an incredible collection. My dad had a small jazz collection and the most memorable record was by Ahmad Jamal.

Blackman s chief drumming sources are probably Max Roach, Art Blakey and, of course, Tony Williams, who is the most visibly acknowledged influence on her style. She has dual interests in hardcore postbop and funky fusion, sometimes accessible and bright, at others roilingly spiritual, in an uncompromising manner. Most folks will probably have first experienced the Ohio-born Blackman as the very visible drummer behind Lenny Kravitz, working with the post-hendrix funk-rock showman for the best part of 15 years.

Nevertheless, Blackman was also busy running her own band, an activity that has taken prime position during the last five years. Blackman is set to play for two nights at Jazz Standard this month. She s bringing back her Explorations unit, who made their debut at the club in The club s acoustic piano will remain shrouded, as Zaccai Curtis plays Fender Rhodes while Marc Cary attends to a spread of Nord, laptop and Moog-ey spaghetti.

Antoine Roney tenor saxophone and Rashaan Carter bass will complete the lineup, making this a somewhat stable assemblage, allowing scope for deep development. The Explorations crew concentrates mostly on Blackman s own tunes, but there will also be some Herbie Hancock selections and some regular standards. Roney has also promised a new piece. Blackman took time out to discuss Explorations while filming in NYC.

For most of her career she s been a local denizen, but since her marriage she s been living in Las Vegas. The two keyboards are really cool, she enthuses. They work together in a really nice way. The band evolved into having two keyboards. Initially, it was a quartet, with tenor saxophone, bass and acoustic piano. Then I started hearing some other things. I wanted to add more electricity, but still keep the acoustic flavor. Another keyboard adds other colors, thickens things up.

I was deliberately looking for that, because of what I was hearing. Even though this multi-keyboard setup might suggest a strong enthusiasm for the In A Silent Way period of Miles Davis, it s actually the trumpeter s classic mid 60s quartet that is ascendant in her mind. That s my absolute favorite band of all time, any genre, any era, any anything. It had all the beauty of the acoustic instrumentation, because they were all sound innovators, but it was also very electric.

This concept of acoustic music possessing the power of electric sounds is central to Blackman s philosophy. Conversely, she s interested in the potential for amplified music being capable of subtle acoustic-style dynamics. Blackman also adores the classic John Coltrane 60s quartet. Because it s acoustic, it doesn t mean it s got to be soft and quiet, or not energetic.

It s the textures and colors I m hearing. Blackman also stresses the importance of Weather Report, Herbie Hancock during the 70s and Lifetime, the ferocious free jazz-rock band led by Williams. I wanted to put all of that into the group in some way. I wanted to have a separate group with guitar, so that s where Another Lifetime comes in.

I wanted to do that kind of thing as another texture, another dimension. Another Lifetime is directly paying homage to the original Williams outfit and includes Aurelien Budynek guitar , Felix Pastorius bass and Marc Cary keyboards. Their recent set at Winter Jazzfest revealed a different form of seething intensity, when placed beside that of the more overtly jazzy Explorations band.

Despite the looming presence of Williams in Blackman s life, the old whirlwind bandleader Blakey was just as significant to her early development. Art was like my dad, Blackman smiles in remembrance. I used to babysit his kids. I was always in awe of him and we got to be really close.

Although she isn t the leader, Blackman is also a member of another group who are dedicated to the legacy of Lifetime. Guitarist Vernon Reid assembled the Spectrum Road quartet, but it s since become a more democratic operation, the other two players being John Medeski keyboards and Jack Bruce bass. We talked about that project for a couple of years before it actually happened, recalls Blackman.

Spectrum Road haven t played many dates, just selected gigs around the US and Japan, but there are plans for another tour in the summer. Pulsing at the center of an already vibrant kaleidoscope of band permutations, Blackman is presently brewing up another performance concept.

I want people on board that can help me project something that has the energy of Lifetime and Weather Report, but that is also accessible, to a degree, for radio play, so we can reach more people, touch more people. I m seeing almost a jam band thing, in a way, because when you see a jam band, you don t expect to see the concert that you saw last night tonight. Despite marriage to Santana, it s Dennis Chambers who inhabits the guitarist s regular drumstool, although Blackman has sat in with the band on several occasions.

The necessary question is whether Cindy and Carlos are planning a musical collaboration. We want to do something, as a smaller band, Blackman confirms. For us, as a husband and wife, some things, you need to keep separate. He needs to keep his band and I need to keep my band.

If you re constantly touring together in the same band and you re married, it s difficult to have any moments of reflection for yourself. We hear things in a different way and some other things we hear exactly the same. So for those things we re going to bring them together for creating a project at some point and the things that are different, we re going to bring those together too and add them to a collage.

Carlos is going to assist with Cindy s next project and will surely contribute some guitar parts. In a way, the coming-soon new Blackman band sounds like a partial recapturing of elements springing from her time with Lenny Kravitz. Their last gig together was in We had a really great run. The band was really tight. We logged in a lot of playing hours together, thousands of hours.

We got a lot accomplished with that band. We d tour for one or two years, depending on the success of the record and then he d take a year off and during that time I d certainly have the chance to explore and record. What I miss about that situation is the camaraderie and the chemistry that we had in that band. I like making people feel good, making them dance.

I was very happy that I was working in that situation, but I want to play music that doesn t just stop there. That s why I like creative music: it encompasses all of that. There might be a fat, funky groove, but you re exploring, being creative over the top of that.

The pulse is still there, but you re playing over it, adding intelligence and creativity to the rhythmic structure, the feel that you re working on. You re melding the two concepts. For me, that s really rewarding. I want to play in situations where I can do any of those things whenever I feel like it.

I don t have to and I don t not have to. I can do it because I feel like it, or I can not do it, because I don t feel like it! Blackman is at Jazz Standard Mar. The drummer just turned 67 and he says, I actually feel like playing again. I haven t really felt like 70s 00s performing in the last 10 years. Over the last decade, he has spent a lot of time on the golf course, explaining, I had to air myself out after being in clubs since I was He s remained engaged as an educator all of this time.

I love the drums so much that my goal is to [teach] as many great drummers on the face of this Earth as possible because that will ensure me that the music will always be played on the highest level. Carvin was born in Houston, Texas on Dec. Michael naturally gravitated toward music and the drums, but he was in a house full of drums that he wasn t allowed to play. There were two reasons he didn t let me play the drums.

First of all, if I sat on the throne, my little feet wouldn t have reached the pedals, so I would have been frustrated. Secondly, I probably wouldn t be playing today at 67 because I would have been a banger. I wouldn t have studied the drums.

How can a kid be allowed to play a whole set of drums, unsupervised, and then say, ok, now I m gonna teach you how to play the drums, here s a practice pad and a book. What are you nuts?! You play that! I m gonna play the drums! But he would picture himself playing the drum set. I would sit on the floor in front of my father s bass drum and I would dream. When the young Carvin won the first of five rudimental competitions he realized that his father had been teaching him how to focus, practice and be successful.

At the age of 14, Carvin got his first gig, playing at a private club, working six nights a week with Carl Campbell in a trio that performed the Nat King Cole book. He worked that job all through high school, saved his money and upon graduation moved to California. I ended up staying out there from to 73, with two years at Motown in Detroit and two years in Vietnam.

The group then went to Detroit to audition for Harvey Fuqua, who had sung with the doo-wop group the Moonglows before eventually becoming head of Artist Development for Motown Records. They ended up working there, living in a rhythm section house, from We worked 9 to 5 just laying grooves. Ok guys, this is the tempo, this is the kind of feeling, these are the changes, until that pocket lay, then they would record it.

We might play one groove all day, take a lunch break, come back and play that groove, or we might work on the bridge. Every now and then Smokey [Robinson] would come in and lay something down. Hampton Hawes had a tour in the summer of and Donald Bailey recommended Carvin to take his place behind the drums. With Henry Franklin on bass, they were in Europe that summer. When we came back to LA, I saw it completely differently.

I needed to think. I needed to practice. He sold his car and moved to San Francisco. That s where Carvin first met Jackie McLean, among others, and they ended up kindling an inspired musical relationship, part of which is captured on albums like Antiquity and New York Calling.

Hubbard had just done Red Clay and he was huge. They did a week at the Village Vanguard before embarking on Europe. Dreams come true, Carvin says. One of my dreams when I was older in life, was to have a gig that paid a lot of money, traveled the entire world and that worked all the time. When that dream came true with Dizzy Gillespie, I would have never thought, first of all, that it would happen and second, that I would walk away from it. In the early 80s, after three years, Carvin left to spend more time with his daughter.

Carvin has always followed his instincts when he has recognized the time for change. He took his time in San Francisco to prepare for New York; he left the road to be with his family and having aired out on the golf course, he is prepared for the fertile period that lies ahead.

Now I have a good band and we re gonna start moving around. Carvin is at Lenox Lounge Mar. There s dynamism in Catlett s swing, his brushwork weighty yet particulate, deft and muscular pushed up against the velvety wail of Webster s tenor. Catlett was a very open minded drummer whose approach worked within a variety of settings, enough that he found himself working and recording with Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker by the latter half of the 40s, lending bombs and a rugged push to their quintet s earliest recordings.

Born in Evansville, Indiana on Jan. A studied admirer of Zutty Singleton and Baby Dodds, Catlett was just 18 years old when he started working with clarinetist Darnell Howard, followed by a stint with pianist Sammy Stewart. In , Catlett moved to New York and quickly became an in-demand sideman, working with Benny Carter, Elmer Snowden, Don Redman, Fletcher Henderson and McKinney s Cotton Pickers, though perhaps his most notable stint at the time was with Louis Armstrong he worked with the trumpeter in an all-star orchestra from.

Perhaps the definitive version of Salt Peanuts May 11, was the result of Catlett s insistent energy, allowing Al Haig, Curley Russell, Parker and Gillespie to dot and crackle across the tune s three minutes and change. Catlett s pared-down, seemingly effortless swing was a far cry from drummer-showman contemporaries and helped knit together the rhythm section one can hear quite easily how locked in he and John Simmons are on the aforementioned Just a Riff.

His work with Roy Eldridge, Chu Berry, Lester Young, Don Byas and Carter may have, in some sense, paved the way for what would become a penchant for transitional and early bebop sides, since most of the named musicians played with one foot in the new thing. The drummer s busy schedule rarely seemed to let up - by the latter half of the decade he was recording as a small-group leader and backed up singers Billie Holiday and Sarah Vaughan, even joining the Ellington band for a short period.

A bout with pneumonia forced Catlett to quit touring and he returned to Chicago, working as the house drummer for the Jazz Ltd. Sadly, his health never really recovered and Catlett died of a heart attack on Mar. It took the drums to make it jazzy for the Swiss. Looking back at the history of Swiss jazz, we were probably not more open-minded towards that new ecstatic sound mostly presented by African- Americans than in the countries surrounding us.

But I would consider it typically Swiss that you could find in Switzerland an impressive amount of jazz concerts already in the 20s and 30s, with stars as famous as Louis Armstrong and Coleman Hawkins playing with their bands up in the smallest mountain villages - Hawkins even recorded a couple of shellacs in Zurich in Back in the late 20s Zurich had three dance halls with regular jazz bands.

But, if you think this helped jazz find wider recognition, you are wrong! Jazz was not liked more in Switzerland, only accepted more easily, more self-evidently than in the rest of Europe. And considering the fact that the drumset - the jazz - was the only instrument that did not even exist before that musical style was coming up, this little country in the middle of a fascist continent, was at least ten years ahead when it came to mastering this new instrument!

There was almost no remarkable European drummer born before , the Swiss Stuff Combe an important exception besides Brit Phil Seaman. The fifth, Tony Oxley, was born in Great Britain, the other non-fascist country. In central Europe these four artists soon represented four different stylistic schools in jazz, like cardinal points almost: Antolini, a technically brilliant and traditionally-trained drum-player, whose main inspiration was Louie Bellson, set the ground work.

In the same way an instrumentalist s sound can mature into deeper dimensionality, the sound of a fine elder jazz singer carries richness of nuance in phrasing, ease of invention, an it-goes-without-saying level of entrainment and total solidity of expression. You can t buy that. You can t auto-tune that either. But you can often notice a foreshadowing of wise elder-energy in younger singers.

One of the many great things about jazz vocal listeners in this town is your age-blind listening. By supporting music first, you are enacting defiance towards our culture s ageism. At Dizzy s Club Mar. I just witnessed year-old Hendricks tear it up for Scott experimental handling of groove, rhythm and interplay. Shortly after his style was already very personal and modern there was not a shadow of trying to play like Pierre Favre, whom you can hear at The Stone this month, always was a very different personality.

More than his two compatriots, he progressed through different styles, times and conceptions, starting as an exceptionally talented and already well-trained youngster. He played with Chet Baker and many other greats - with Louis Armstrong even! But, his elegance in style and outstanding sound culture soon made him detect and develop the more percussive, even ethnological sides of his instrument. That in the 70s he got more and more known as a solo performer was only logical.

Hans Peter Giger in many ways was something like a king-sized version of the others. Starting his international career mainly in the oldtime jazz field, he was soon recording with Ellington and Strayhorn. Returning to Switzerland, he was co-founder of the then first professional jazz school in Bern, leading the Family Of Percussion and playing and recording with everyone, up to Archie Shepp in An incomparable early master of polyrhythms and odd meters he, as a player and teacher, gave Switzerland s drummer community much more than we tend to remember!

With these four outstanding stylists on drums, Switzerland was already well equipped in earlier days, when jazz was starting to establish itself in Europe as a new international art. But there are at least three other reasons why the drums were easier to learn and easier to be played in Switzerland in the first half of the last century.

As in America, a vivid brass band tradition produced a constant need for young drummers. Every village, every association had and still has its own band, playing old corny marches right up to the Duke Ellington repertoire. Due to a very decentralized political and cultural structure, almost every Swiss town at that time built up its own almost independent little scene, had its own bands, festivals, clubs and little coffee shops and nowadays jazz schools.

Only for illustration: the National Amateur Jazz Festival was founded in Zurich in and Switzerland, with its only 6. And finally, Switzerland was not destroyed after the big war; there was money, safety and a future and although most of the jazz players were not professionals at that time, they were able to develop and, if really talented, they could start an international career. Seigel s classy Nightlife Awards in Town Hall with stunning energy!

The Grande Dame of interdisciplinary jazz wildness, Shelley Hirsch, will blow you away with her in-the-moment free association inventions at Roulette Mar. For those who respect the lineage of the classic genre, you will need a dose of Carroll to absorb this news: the famed Oak Room at the Algonquin is closed for good.

Cervini has a pristine ebullience; For the following generation, Switzerland s lead had already finished, but the seed was growing. Among well-educated youngsters of wealthy backgrounds, it became hip to play jazz. Many of the best players - and there were some very good ones - did not need to make a living with their music and when the big late 60s jazz crisis also hit our country, they returned to family businesses and turned into semi-professionals or started something new on their own.

But the local scenes all over the country, supported by a growing cultural state system, made it evident how creative these little entities could get. In Zurich the Africana club played the main role in the late 60s and beginning of the 70s. Being the first station of the South African musicians community, later fully moving to London, the Africana was the place where they left their distinctive musical traces. Drummer Makaya Ntshoko mainly known for his fabulous work with Hugh Masekela even settled there, becoming a respected European drummer and a member of the Basel scene.

But if you started to play jazz at that time and were interested in its roots and did not have a teacher who had all the old records, you had better be good in paleontology! Of Charlie Parker you would only find some obscure bootlegs of even more obscure club dates, sometimes containing not more than his naked solos and many a record salesman would get a puzzled look trying to understand why you saw Miles Davis belonging to the jazz instead of pop-rock department in his shop.

When I started to get into drumming in the mid 70s Heinz Lieb and Fredy Studer, both into a more rocky vein, were coming up and soon were the most successful younger jazz drummers around. But it was the four older guys who had already made Switzerland a drummer s country for the rest of Europe.

Dieter Ulrich, born , began his musical education with classical piano training from age 6 to 20, starting on drums and other instruments like bugle at age Major news for Sheila Jordan fans; a previously unreleased recording made 12 years ago brings the perfect ease and simpatico between her and bassist Harvey S to our ears again on Yesterdays HighNote. And if you love the combination of bass and voice, Sandy Patton s deep alto range matches Thomas Durst s strings as they swing, slink and groove in conjoined impulse on Painting Jazz Unit.

Although a series of individual pieces, the sum feels like an inter-woven extended free-form improvisation. Sorta like life. Survival Records was as much about Rashied Ali s aesthetic as it was about documenting uncompromising free jazz and underground postbop that major and even well known independent labels wouldn t touch. Berlin s Free Music Production FMP , which celebrated its 40th anniversary in , was started in much the same context albeit on the other side of the Atlantic.

There s certainly a visual angle to how Walter s releases are presented, from the titles of compositions Continual Rage, The Shrieking Wind, Murder Hole to the bold typeface, garish colors and generally apocalyptic imagery that visually defines the ugexplode catalog. Walter s label is a committed parallel to his own art, which is, as he put it in a interview with this writer, I ve always been attracted to extremity in music.

I started listening to free jazz at the same time I was listening to punk and no wave in the 80s. I put them on a somewhat even keel and although they were different idioms, I felt they were saying similar things. That s really the core of my aesthetic - I want music to be wet with bodily fluids, a certain bloody-mindedness that s part of my music and attitude. I want to see sweat and blood, a little pain and struggle. Walter started the ugexplode concept and its attendant toothy grin and Hi.

I never really believed that artists should give away the rights to their work, so I was always very adamant about having the ugex label on many of my releases, even if they were manufactured by other labels. Since I really started in earnest with the label in , I have collaborated and pooled resources with other labels as well as funding my own pressings.

Speaking of the place of ugexplode at the cusp of its third decade, Walter puts forth that with more than 50 releases spanning 20 years, I think the label exists to document a specific aesthetic thread that I ve followed in music both as a fan and a musician. Essentially, I guess I m trying to document what I consider iconoclastic music in an era marked by more and more complacency and apathy. The stuff I put out is weird, violent and subversive on many levels.

I don t release easy listening music and I never cater to any trends. My favorite music never seemed to be at home in its own era, so I m not bothered if lots of people don t readily respond to what I do. That s the exact reason I run the label - to document the work of what I see as a cultural minority. Whether from Charles K. Noyes Toy Killers or the music of drummer Marc Edwards and saxophonists Mario Rechtern and Paul Flaherty, the ugexplode aesthetic is about as concentrated as one can get.

Right now, the kind of dissonant, intelligent, ugly rock stuff I m into seems completely out of vogue, so I ve been supporting bands like White Suns, Normal Love, Burmese, Microwaves, etc. By the same token, I don t hear a lot of truly hardcore free jazz or improvised music coming out right now, so I put out my own releases featuring a cross-section of heavy musicians pushing beyond what might be their normal comfort zones. After moving to Amsterdam, he established himself as a versatile drummer with a keen ear.

Teachers: Makkie van Engelen, Marcel Serierse, Viktor Oskam and, more than anything, all the badasses I ve had the honor to share the stage with. By Day: Composer, student of life , wannabe hustler. I knew I wanted to be a musician when Did you know? My dad is a jazz-rock loving organic farmer. Thanks Paps! For more information, visit myspace.

Van Hemmen is at The Backroom Mar. In addition to jazz and big bands, Steidle worked in punk groups in his youth. I love them all. By Day: I m not a dogmatic musician so I love to be in different musical situations. Sometimes I m very busy in the studio or I m working strictly on one project for two months like a concert with Neue Musik Ensemble Courage - pages of heavy written music. I also play a lot in the improvising scene in Berlin. I first heard The Neue Deutsche Welle.

I was eight years old and I thought it would be nice to make music my whole life. Steidle is at The Stone Mar. And who wouldn t want a little sister like that, given its auspicious debut last month. The one-night musical marathon Jan. Concertgoers tried their best squeezing into and between the three rooms of music and soon after the first of 13 bands took to the stage, the venue actually had to go into lockdown mode, not allowing any more people inside.

The festival was a success almost before it started! And though many performances were by new names to these ears, one refreshing surprise after another resulted in numerous revelations, starting with piano trios. The close camaraderie of Laia Genc s Liason Tonique went well beyond the single year they ve worked together. Drummer Etienne Nillesen s complementary cymbal work was subtle though effective: his long stretches of tapping and lightly screeching cymbals with stick tips had listeners leaning in.

Another memorable trio was that of pianist Clemens Orth. His studies with John Taylor, the late Sir Roland Hanna and Kenny Werner revealed themselves in technical virtuosity but more substantially in how he sunk his teeth into simple melodies like Genc he never lost track of a good melody during his improvisations. Quality of the performances during the six evenings testified not only to the worth of Parker s recommendations but also to their scope.

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