Friday, January 07, 2005
Undercurrent
Listening to Blue Note’s "Bill Evans / Jim Hall" cd "Undercurrent", while mulling over the close of the previous year (Bang!, not a whisper).
From the All Music Guide, Mr. Ken Dryden (not Mr Kick-save-and-a-beauty of the 1970-80’s Montreal Canadiennes) writes:
"Undercurrent" has long been considered one of the classic piano/guitar duo sessions, pairing Bill Evans with Jim Hall. These studio dates were a jump start for Evans' career, which he had placed on hold after the unexpected death of his bassist, Scott LaFaro, a few days following their historic Village Vanguard recordings were made. First reissued on CD in 1988, this 2002 edition features the same music, but remixed with gorgeous 24-bit sound and the songs re-sequenced into their original LP configuration, with the alternate takes and initially unissued tracks following them. An added bonus is the removal of the graphics from the striking cover photo, as well as the inclusion of a photo of Evans and Hall taken at one of the two sessions. The seamless way they swap between lead and supporting roles throughout gems such as the waltz-time "Skating in Central Park" adds to the overall appeal of the disc. Though the master take of "My Funny Valentine" has a smoother introduction, the alternate has more intriguing interplay between the two men. The other selections are every bit as masterful. Although Evans and Hall would later do a follow-up duo session for Verve, this memorable CD is the one to acquire first."
What really strikes me about the cd are the original liner notes, written by Barry J Titus. (painstakingly re-typed here by Yurz Troolie)
"Rimmed iron wheels chew candy between tracks window smithers Xmas tree window silver money fleeing present unone given coca cola smiling blank wall perspires omens heads nodding close gaped lips seen stick stuck taxi sign disrobes May 15th, 1959, hanging about her knees mail bundle wheeled cripple clutches Read Wall Street clock white sun monocle IIV or VII long blink see eyes time? Apparitional liquid hesitates a foot, a universe below the white paint-trussed varicose ceiling. Liquid slips, drops, unoutlineable shape, presenting absence, glides unreal, an excuse for splattering focus, a school of Dolphins or a dark Grecian head. Virtuoso: practice makes perfect. Two sharps. Ice crystal; diamond egg frog oan wrkwrk-wrkwrk. Donned rubber belts nose mouth. Nub knuckled fingers bounce overfilled heat tear salt balling. Again. Two sharps. Ice crystal, diamonkey, egg, nail rubonk, snill. Huhhh. Snill. Rubru, nail, frog, diamond many windows flash ice. Air out. Curtain fingers, ceiling lines, French door bars gripped unstill sun broiling play, fat ended keys with black spines. "How could the Augsburg festival have been in Vienna, hah! Loewy?" Paint corner her jagged lip fingertips petrified red cream smile flicked starving grotto. "I mean is she a satirist or," her tendon muscle stomach dieted twist the flat skirt front. "I think she needs a milk man, Loewy." The shambled, bent, stripped fingers forked each other angles. His imagination chained in Veronica’s orange ochre wallpaper, blankets. A quicksilver limb paints the swamptoon. "Yes, I do!" shook, he shivered, remembering, room loose daggers broke ice bergs about them. Peanut butter note, Fang, Fang. Ice Fang back wriggled sorcerer hand hung dead skin frog back Mama into Eassie leap shrunk from the door hid sharpened tusk hallway, awwwrice fang bump jump. "Six fifteen," growled grate hunched on sofa. "You’re presence is expiring, I mean, inspiring." Blue, yellow tinged, Mars capillaried, eye, blue crystals, white slash, "I know what I want! Why is it such a struggle for you? I fell revolutions." Lie quicksilver idealization limb delusion chrome rationalization dance dragged curtained bog cracked ice amazon child’s burning nerves. Always left whiskers, uneven fingernails, premature orgasms hairy legs, long nose pranthula. Go play. Eat chocolate cake, peanut butter, pickles, but clean your room and wash your elbows. Ceiling lines, piano leg shadows, French door bars, eleven to four thirty. "Ma!" shook the still fingers. Rectangled silence coagulated scraped waiting, dangling. Daddyeeee drove him smack clamoured up back fallen stairs into the quilt where a silk wrapped, dark quaked moon bled tears. Run vanity open smear black commaed cheek. “Coups d’etat!” forehead burst powder, lipstick ribboned run eye shadow sink spit spigot greyened clear washed black rubbed lather pushed red pressed tan smeared blue smudged grey circled one eye deathlaughcue hiccupping criggle vermouth spread on the table top gash crystal core neck glass cupped fingers polished green. A silver ghost hears. Life illuminates a paper screen Eyes dance truth’s instrument. Sieve, sickle and sloat, red grimes grey molds parted skins furrowed tissue libes skeletal screams. Long brown stone blunt nose raised, "Naked day?" puffed sound slices blush. Tongue stuck inside closed teeth. Torso immobile inflame face clacks ticket counter leaned hat veiled hat pulled hat swivel, "I don’t know what to say," Jagged leaning brown limbed face. His eyes crumbled smiles smoke dust wound warm bricks."
Now, that’s a review/commentary! I think…..Or as Mickey Mantle said, when answering a question posed to him by a Congressional Committee investigating baseball, "Whatever Casey said." (referring to the great English scholar, racanteur, and baseball manager, Casey Stengel)
Re. Barry J. Titus? Wrote a book, "Masks", back in the late 1950’s. Long out of print. He seems to have vanished, along with his editor, who probably wnet off the deep end. Googling leads you nowhere, except perhaps here.
Listening to Blue Note’s "Bill Evans / Jim Hall" cd "Undercurrent", while mulling over the close of the previous year (Bang!, not a whisper).
From the All Music Guide, Mr. Ken Dryden (not Mr Kick-save-and-a-beauty of the 1970-80’s Montreal Canadiennes) writes:
"Undercurrent" has long been considered one of the classic piano/guitar duo sessions, pairing Bill Evans with Jim Hall. These studio dates were a jump start for Evans' career, which he had placed on hold after the unexpected death of his bassist, Scott LaFaro, a few days following their historic Village Vanguard recordings were made. First reissued on CD in 1988, this 2002 edition features the same music, but remixed with gorgeous 24-bit sound and the songs re-sequenced into their original LP configuration, with the alternate takes and initially unissued tracks following them. An added bonus is the removal of the graphics from the striking cover photo, as well as the inclusion of a photo of Evans and Hall taken at one of the two sessions. The seamless way they swap between lead and supporting roles throughout gems such as the waltz-time "Skating in Central Park" adds to the overall appeal of the disc. Though the master take of "My Funny Valentine" has a smoother introduction, the alternate has more intriguing interplay between the two men. The other selections are every bit as masterful. Although Evans and Hall would later do a follow-up duo session for Verve, this memorable CD is the one to acquire first."
What really strikes me about the cd are the original liner notes, written by Barry J Titus. (painstakingly re-typed here by Yurz Troolie)
"Rimmed iron wheels chew candy between tracks window smithers Xmas tree window silver money fleeing present unone given coca cola smiling blank wall perspires omens heads nodding close gaped lips seen stick stuck taxi sign disrobes May 15th, 1959, hanging about her knees mail bundle wheeled cripple clutches Read Wall Street clock white sun monocle IIV or VII long blink see eyes time? Apparitional liquid hesitates a foot, a universe below the white paint-trussed varicose ceiling. Liquid slips, drops, unoutlineable shape, presenting absence, glides unreal, an excuse for splattering focus, a school of Dolphins or a dark Grecian head. Virtuoso: practice makes perfect. Two sharps. Ice crystal; diamond egg frog oan wrkwrk-wrkwrk. Donned rubber belts nose mouth. Nub knuckled fingers bounce overfilled heat tear salt balling. Again. Two sharps. Ice crystal, diamonkey, egg, nail rubonk, snill. Huhhh. Snill. Rubru, nail, frog, diamond many windows flash ice. Air out. Curtain fingers, ceiling lines, French door bars gripped unstill sun broiling play, fat ended keys with black spines. "How could the Augsburg festival have been in Vienna, hah! Loewy?" Paint corner her jagged lip fingertips petrified red cream smile flicked starving grotto. "I mean is she a satirist or," her tendon muscle stomach dieted twist the flat skirt front. "I think she needs a milk man, Loewy." The shambled, bent, stripped fingers forked each other angles. His imagination chained in Veronica’s orange ochre wallpaper, blankets. A quicksilver limb paints the swamptoon. "Yes, I do!" shook, he shivered, remembering, room loose daggers broke ice bergs about them. Peanut butter note, Fang, Fang. Ice Fang back wriggled sorcerer hand hung dead skin frog back Mama into Eassie leap shrunk from the door hid sharpened tusk hallway, awwwrice fang bump jump. "Six fifteen," growled grate hunched on sofa. "You’re presence is expiring, I mean, inspiring." Blue, yellow tinged, Mars capillaried, eye, blue crystals, white slash, "I know what I want! Why is it such a struggle for you? I fell revolutions." Lie quicksilver idealization limb delusion chrome rationalization dance dragged curtained bog cracked ice amazon child’s burning nerves. Always left whiskers, uneven fingernails, premature orgasms hairy legs, long nose pranthula. Go play. Eat chocolate cake, peanut butter, pickles, but clean your room and wash your elbows. Ceiling lines, piano leg shadows, French door bars, eleven to four thirty. "Ma!" shook the still fingers. Rectangled silence coagulated scraped waiting, dangling. Daddyeeee drove him smack clamoured up back fallen stairs into the quilt where a silk wrapped, dark quaked moon bled tears. Run vanity open smear black commaed cheek. “Coups d’etat!” forehead burst powder, lipstick ribboned run eye shadow sink spit spigot greyened clear washed black rubbed lather pushed red pressed tan smeared blue smudged grey circled one eye deathlaughcue hiccupping criggle vermouth spread on the table top gash crystal core neck glass cupped fingers polished green. A silver ghost hears. Life illuminates a paper screen Eyes dance truth’s instrument. Sieve, sickle and sloat, red grimes grey molds parted skins furrowed tissue libes skeletal screams. Long brown stone blunt nose raised, "Naked day?" puffed sound slices blush. Tongue stuck inside closed teeth. Torso immobile inflame face clacks ticket counter leaned hat veiled hat pulled hat swivel, "I don’t know what to say," Jagged leaning brown limbed face. His eyes crumbled smiles smoke dust wound warm bricks."
Now, that’s a review/commentary! I think…..Or as Mickey Mantle said, when answering a question posed to him by a Congressional Committee investigating baseball, "Whatever Casey said." (referring to the great English scholar, racanteur, and baseball manager, Casey Stengel)
Re. Barry J. Titus? Wrote a book, "Masks", back in the late 1950’s. Long out of print. He seems to have vanished, along with his editor, who probably wnet off the deep end. Googling leads you nowhere, except perhaps here.
Comments:
<< Home Verging on Pertinence Just some more disposable thoughts clogging up the hinterlands
Sitemeter's started sending me your stats. Why, i don't know-I think they're a subsidary of some domestic 'intelligence' agency.
They fuck up everything.
They've been trying to kill me for years, but they may be looking at you instead.
Avoid small planes and always check your brakes.
I really would like hear that CD.
The 'beat' liner notes made my bongos shout Daddy-O! Er, I meant Howl.
Post a Comment
They fuck up everything.
They've been trying to kill me for years, but they may be looking at you instead.
Avoid small planes and always check your brakes.
I really would like hear that CD.
The 'beat' liner notes made my bongos shout Daddy-O! Er, I meant Howl.
<< Home Verging on Pertinence Just some more disposable thoughts clogging up the hinterlands
