don’t miss day 3 of teddy wilson’s 4 day 100th birthday party, or you’ll look like this.


don’t miss day 3 of teddy wilson’s 4 day 100th birthday party, or you’ll look like this.
this weekend the radio station wkcr 89.9 fm, one of the truly great things in new york city, is playing 100 hours of teddy wilson, who was born 100 years ago saturday. coleman hawkins and i were both born on november 21, but its not our centennials, yet. so far tonight wkcr has played 1930s benny goodman quartets with lionel hampton on vibraphones that sound like ribbons of felt and gene krupa playing drums like he’s this big and benny being much more beautiful than i knew. the fourth instrument, teddy wilson’s piano, will lift your feet and furniture and pets from the ground and send everything slowly floating up into the room. happy birthday, mr. wilson.
#958: allen toussaint - hey little girl and professor longhair lessons (1980s)
it’s true that allen toussaint arranged all the horns on the band’s last waltz, produced dr. john’s best album and history’s most romantic song about rain, wrote the nation’s happiest song about working in a coal mine, wrote otis redding’s most painful song about pain, was single-handed responsibly for the meters (his old house band), handled a&r for the beautiful minit record label, and made from a whisper to a scream in his spare time, but the real reason we should bow down is his speaking voice. his is the only adam’s apple with its own mustache.
art garfunkel: second only to art tatum, art farmer, fine art, art pepper, the performing arts, art blakey, art for art’s sake, art spiegelman, performance art, and paul simon.
now that spring’s sprung, remember to listen to charlie parker with strings really late at night and then again in the morning, every day, and don’t forget to study the album cover too. surely you’ve been told what happens to the nicest part of the year when you don’t.
#931: frank sinatra and quincy jones - until the real things comes along (1984)
almost certainly the best sweater-on-sweater action of 1984, quincy jones in red and sinatra in blue. it was probably filmed the same day as footage of quincy messing around with herbie hancock’s new synthesizers, just after taking off his sweater and switching spectacles.
#928: naini diabaté - r.t.m. (1988)
what if i told you that r.t.m. stands for office de radiodiffusion-télévision du mali, and that this clip is a recording of vibraphones and two guitars and a woman naimed naini singing like someone on fire about that malian television station? and then that the video itself is actually from a malian tv station? and then your brain explodes all over your bedroom or office walls and radiodiffusion-télévision du mali is held responsible for manslaughter?
charles mingus albums named “charles mingus” in ascending order: mingus moves, mingus plays piano, mingus mingus mingus mingus mingus, mingus dynasty, mingus ah um, charles mingus presents charles mingus
today would have been charles mingus’ 90th birthday, and so phil schaap on kcrw 89.9 fm is playing his music all rainy day long. phil schaap is my spirit animal.
#922: jimmy witherspoon - it’s a low dirty shame (1962, frankly jazz)
a violent burst of mid-april new york city sunshine is almost exactly like a jimmy witherspoon’s finger snap, except jimmy witherspoon’s snapping was cooler.
“now there’s the black cross, the green cross, the white cross, the double cross, the criss-cross, and the lost cross. and the cross gets awful heavy at different times, but one is supposed to keep on going on and carrying the cross on his shoulder, because you ain’t supposed to let no cross cross you up. you’re supposed to let a cross help you get across. and if you let a cross help you get across, you won’t get crossed up but you’ll be on the cross ‘cause you done got across on the cross. so if you can remember this, you won’t get lost on the cross while you’re trying to get across. so we’re just here to let you know about it. i know that you knew already, ‘cause y’all the hippest people in the world, hip black and white. but you still know that you got a cross you must deal with. so when it crosses you up, go on and deal with it, and leave it alone.”
- rahsaan roland kirk, giving the most important speech since harry nilsson’s the point
learning it’s not r-a-s-h-a-a-n roland kirk but rahsaan roland kirk makes you feel like a real ass. good thing he doesn’t come up very often in conversation. i do however know how to properly say boogie-woogie string along for real, and i recommend it for this sunday. and every day.
#902: gerry mulligan & ben webster - go home and who’s got rhythm (1962)
“my mother said the midwife told her that after i was born and was dried off a little bit, they laid me down on the floor and i lifted my head and looked around. she loved that,” gerry mulligan says in the oral autobiography whose addiction section i found this weekend—and i now see there’s a full transcript that ends with his “sheepdog” method for meeting women and starts with his birth. ”i took a look around and decided to try to get back in. i’ve tried to get back in all my life.”
the gerry mulligan page on the website brainy quote is the horse e books of jazz. “new york is still where i live most of the time,” gerry mulligan once said, it claims. “i’ve appeared on some other people’s albums,” he reportedly stated another time.
because gerry mulligan played the baritone saxophone like an ice pick, an ice pick made out of ice (especially on mainstream of jazz), one can only assume he had much profounder things to say. in fact—after writing that sentence i’ve found a recording of his oral autobiography about being a scratch-your-eyes-out drug addict, on the library of congress’ website. it’s about the “one time when we gave artificial respiration for about eight hours straight to keep a guy going.”
“after gail and i split up,” he says, “i started to get back into my old habits with heroin. not ever to the extent that i had been involved in new york, but still enough that it was an ongoing thing, and it was time-consuming and constant.” in other words, gerry mulligan’s period after splitting up with whomever gail was of constant heroin use was somehow not as horrible as another period in new york city. to imagine what could possibly have made that other period worse provides a small peak into the misery of the word “habits.”
update: and so does the story about whitney houston’s death on the cover of the times.