Showing posts with label San Francisco. Show all posts
Showing posts with label San Francisco. Show all posts

Pharoah Sanders Quartet In Concert At Yoshi's

Regular Floydian Slips readers probably know we've been lifelong fans of jazz saxophonist Pharoah Sanders since first hearing Upper and Lower Egypt off of his Tauhid release. In 1999 he remarked that, due to his musical pedigree—including a stint in Sun Ra's Solar Arkestra—he had been unable to get sufficient bookings back in America. Sanders is also known for dueling horn-to-horn with the great John Coltrane. Having established all of that, we were ecstatic to finally catch up with him in concert.

(Sun Ra's Arkestra had once played Russ Gibb's Grande Ballroom in Detroit at the behest of MC5 manager and White Panther Party founder John Sinclair.)

On this tour Sanders is playing with renowned Indian tabla player Zakir Hussain, who has previously collaborated with guitarist John McLaughlin on his Shakti projects and Grateful Dead drummer /percussionist Mickey Hart on several ethnomusicology endeavors. In 1991 a Planet Drum collaboration of Hart and Hussain's won a Grammy Award in the then-new Best Contemporary World Music Album.

We're fans of McLaughlin and Hart, but—not having heard too many Shakti and no Planet Drum recordings—didn't know Hussain. But two friends, Ram and Bharath, knew Hussain's music well in their home country of India, where Hussain is also a musical producer, film actor and soundtrack composer. To make things interesting, neither had ever heard of Sanders prior to joining us at Sunday's concert.

[He's] probably the best tenor player in the world.

Ornette Coleman

Bharath: I read up about Pharoah Sanders and his music on the the Internet prior to the event. Zakhir Hussain is a legend who is peerless when it comes to playing the tabla. It was because of him that I was really looking forward to the event. I wasn't sure how well Hussain and Sanders would come together playing their instruments, since it seems difficult to blend tabla music in a jazz setting. Once the concert started, it became difficult to appreciate Hussain's tabla whenever Sanders was playing. Whenever the saxophonist took breaks, however, Hussain and the rest of the ensemble were able to highlight their music. Hussain was both really energetic and innovative (using different instruments), but I left with the impression that his strength is still Hindustani or Carnatic music and not really fusion music (at least not in the jazz realm). Overall he was much better performing solo or with drummer Joe Farnsworth in this context.

Listen to these Pharoah Sanders' tracks in their entirety:

ThembiAstral TravelingUpper & Lower Egypt

Ram: I'd never seen the great percussionist Zakhir Hussain perform, but every kid in my neighborhood knew of him growing up—initially through Taj Mahal tea ads, then later by listening to him on the radio and TV. I was intrigued with the notion of jazz with tabla, not to mention a trip to the city and sushi on top of that. Yoshi's is cozy yet not too small, providing a great view from almost anywhere in the house. Starting promptly at 2 pm, after ten minutes into the matinĂ©e Sanders left the stage and each sideman got a chance to solo. Upon returning, Sanders took to vocals and his sax, inviting the audience to sing and clap to music that was absolutely captivating. He even danced on occasion! The only difficulty was in hearing Hussain's tabla, which was almost inaudible during this portion. After this the musicians soloed again, followed by a jugalbandi between Hussain and Farnsworth. All in all the show was fantastic; the only downside being that it perhaps ended too early.


Chris: Pharoah Sanders could do no wrong. If all I was able to do was to say hello and let him know of my passion for his music since first hearing it 40 years ago, that would have been sufficient. Two nights prior to the concert, I streamed a film about Neal "On the Road" Cassady from Amazon. What did the producers choose as a music bed for one scene but Sanders' Upper & Lower Egypt, from the same Tauhid album that willingly pulled me in to his music. In the way that consciousnesses inexplicably converge, I truly sensed some foreshadowing going on.

Having heard "Toots" Thielemans at the original club in Oakland, I was enthralled just to be at Yoshi's in San Francisco on a sunny Sunday afternoon. Not only did Sanders' oblige with a pre-concert photo of the two of us, I know I was smiling throughout his performance. One moment he's very melodic, then he honks a note or two reminiscent of a charging rhinoceros. A tip 'o the hat also goes to William Henderson, who provided oustanding accompaniment on piano.

Rocking At the Red Dog: Psychedelic Age Begins

Planting the Seed(s) of the Psychedelic Age

We've been doing a lot of research as of late, using the '67 Summer of Love as a focal point. Arriving late to the party, what George Harrison saw disturbed him as he played street minstrel to thousands. His first-hand summation was amplified by PBS's American Experience worthy retrospective presented 40 years later (view it online for free). All of the sour grapes makes Floydian Slips glad we didn't accept Dr. Tim's admonition to tune out—not completely, anyway. (Tuning in and turning on were suggestions more easily accepted.)

The Beats aside, what's not well-known is the real backstory to the burgeoning Haight-Ashbury scene before the tour buses put the district on a freak show site-seeing route. It starts two years earlier, with the opening of the Red Dog Saloon in the unlikely location of Virginia City, NV.

The story gets two pages in I Want To Take You Higher—The Psychedelic Era 1965-1969, a magnificent coffee table volume issued by the Rock 'N' Roll Hall of Fame and Museum. As worthwhile as this volume is for any collector's library, the complete story is best told in Rockin' At the Red Dog—The Dawn of Psychedelic Rock. The expose that Life magazine missed, this comprehensive video includes rare photos, original footage of a pre-Janis Joplin Big Brother and the Holding Company, and interviews with many of those who were an integral part of the scene.

The best documentary on the ‘60s
ever made. Red Dog Saloon rocks!

Michael Simmons—Rolling Stone, L.A. Weekly, High Times, BAM

The Charlatans get a lot of attention for reasons best told by the video, an obvious labor of love for Director Mary Works (Assistant Editor, Titanic, Saving Private Ryan). Other groups included in the piece are Quicksilver Messenger Service, Grateful Dead and the Jefferson Airplane, although the viewer should not expect them to be a focal point. Rather, Rockin' At the Red Dog is really the story of how a handful of people began a cultural revolution that spread across America in a few short years. Interesting sidenotes include noted poster artist Anton Kelly on the advent of rock posters, and a look at Bill Ham's development of the de rigeur psychedelic light show.

Wolfgang's Vault - Reissue

It should be noted that, without the Red Dog's pioneering trailblazers, there very well may never have been an Avalon, a Fillmore, a Winterland, a Grande Ballroom, a Boston Tea Party, a Monterey Pop Festival, or a Woodstock. Netflix subscribers may instantly view this entertaining documentary; others may stream it over the 'Net using Amazon's Video On Demand service for a nominal fee.

On the Road w/ Cassady, Kesey & Merry Pranksters

FOR-ward, into the past...

In writing about the exploits of the Merry Pranksters in The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, I well remember Tom Wolfe describing the phantasmogorical, psychoacoustic redwood grove behind Ken Kesey's La Honda, CA, hideaway. Could this be the same stand about which Joni Mitchell prophesied, "Took all the trees, put 'em in a tree museum?" Of sorts, yes, but more on that in a few moments.First, some digression....


...fly Trans Love Airways to San Francisco
U.S.A., then maybe you'll understand
this song; it will be worth it..
.


Let's take a little trip (take a little trip, take a little trip)... or maybe it was a BIG sidetrip. It was a trip, of that much I'm certain. Not to be outdone by Mssrs. Kesey and Neal Cassady, and also having been inspired by Jack Kerouac's On the Road and Hunter S. Thompson's Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas, in the summer of '73 Guitar Steve and I outfitted my van with a high-powered stereo and an orange crate full of homemade cassette tapes (the ones that blew your hair back).

Donning white jump suits so as not to be too conspicuous at such establishments as the Iowa 80 Truck Stop en route (w-o-w...LOOK at those colors!), we hoisted the mainsail and steered her west from Detroit via Trans-Love Airways.

Eventually arriving in La Honda (where no left turn is unstoned), I was confused and downright dumbfounded when the MPs (see above) (or below) weren't out in force to greet us. Wouldn't you be? But then, Guitar Steve had failed to open the proper hailing frequencies, so I'm not at all sure what I had expected. Protocol is everything.

What happened here in the 1960’s spread into something like a religion, as Tom Wolfe claimed. In the imagination of those who remember the ’60s, or who revere the ’60s, the house still feels like a redwood ‘Shroud of Turin’ through which something momentous passed leaving a ghostly image.

Terry Adams



Many Years From Now, Paul McCartney's authorized biography, cites Kesey as a primary influence for the Beatles' Magical Mystery Tour film.


It being about 10 am and both of us being parched, it was only appropriate that we repair to Apple Jack's Inn for a wee dram and a bit 'o nosh. Looking for a sign—any sign—that Kesey and the Merry Pranksters had indeed once inhaled these parts, I finally found it etched into the wood paneling:

If you can't dazzle 'em with brilliance, baffle 'em with bullsh_t!
Clearly this was a sign—one as prophetic as any (see Joni Mitchell, above). Knowing good advice when I trip across it, I've long endeavored to follow this bit of wisdom. After all, you're reading this, right?

Wolfgang's Vault - Reissue

From a stateside perspective, one can get a fairly good overview of The Psychedelic Era, as it's come to be known, at the '60s site, kindly provided by the University of Virginia in Charlottesville (was Tom Jefferson on the bus?). This is for all of us overly-eager participants of that era, of course, who don't remember it.

If you remember the '60s, you weren't there!

Want more? (Oh, yes, yes, YES!) Well, you're in luck. Although you'll have to jump in the Dymaxion and motor up Route 66 to Cleveland (You ca-a-a-n't get there from here!), the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame + Museum wants to take you higher...or at least it did. Click here for a (virtual) journey to the center of your mind, where Joni's trees—or Ken's—may be rediscovered.

Postscript: Researching all of this stuff a few moons ago, I acquired a double VHS set featuring original 8 mm footage of Kesey-sanctioned bus trips (the first one with Cassady speed-rapping at the wheel). One evening I happened to watch the credits roll by and, as I did, one name leapt out at me. I say leapt, because there just aren't many leprechauns by the name of Kirk O'Green. As it happens, Skypilot O'Green and I graduated in the same high school class; he remembers me selling him an LP. Anyway, after graduation O'Green sought out the Pranksters at their new Oregon home, toured with them while seeking Merlin in Scotland, and in the end happened to be in charge of the film transfer project. Like I say, folks...it ain't anywhere near six degrees of separation...

Flashback: The Summer of Love

Waxing Nostalgic -or- Johnny Comes Lately

I recently journeyed to San Francisco to interview for a position at eWeek, published by Ziff-Davis Media. eWeek...sister publication to PC Magazine and formerly titled PC Week—which used to quote me when I was a PC reseller during those heady days of Windows 3.0. And sister publication to Windows Sources, for which I had a one-time cover story credit and was the Windows tips editor for a few months.

Now to be here..in San Francisco...interviewing at the Ziff-Davis. It definitely felt like I was coming full circle, regardless of the outcome.

Years ago San Francisco was only something I read about in Rolling Stone, or maybe even Life magazine, should one George Harrison decide to drop in on the Summer of Love. And long before I came to appreciate Tony Bennett leaving his heart there (one of three palatable songs on The Blue Room jukebox, the others being The Kingston Trio's Scotch & Soda and Dolly Parton's Jolene), it was Scott McKenzie imploring us to "be sure to wear flowers in your hair" and Eric Burdon alluring us with "old angels young angels feel alright, on a warm San Franciscan night."
Jimi Hendrix, baby believe me, set the world on fire, yeah!
Early for my appointment and it being the noon hour, I took a quick survey of the block and immediately sensed something was missing: honking taxis. That's right—the city had all the vibrancy of the Big Apple, including its own well-appointed Frederick Law Olmsted park, but no demonic honking taxis.

His majesty, Prince Jones, smiled as he moved among the crowd...
The crowd. Not a crowd, per se, but lots of people. Interesting-looking people, all with stories to tell and songs to sing—regardless of their ethnicity, dress, age, gender, or physique. And here's my epiphany: every last one of 'em looked just like R. Crumb's depictions. Or is it "despictions?" Although we may feel a sense of shame about them in flipping the pages of a Zap! Comix, here there is nothing about which to be ashamed—they're just common ordinary people. Right outta dem pages of Zap!, fer cryin' out loud! Why, there's Jumpin' Jimmy Jiz...over there's a sewer snoid... No, man... dey's people, just like you............

Continued...
Giving numerous restaurants the cursory evaluation, I ultimately settled upon The Toaster Oven Sandwich Shop for a bit o' nosh. It looked low-key, no hassle, probably a tasty sandie and—if all goes well—maybe even a table outside. Entering the queue, and feeling somewhat the outsider in my Mr. Bidnessman Suit, I was immediately swept away by the music:

"I can walk down the street and there's no one there,
though the pavement's a one huge crowd...
I can drive down the road; my eyes don't see,
Though my mind wants to cry out loud.
Though my mind wants to cry out loud."

It was I Feel Free from Cream's debut Fresh Cream release. Suddenly it was 19-freakin'-67 all over again ("Sherman, set the Wayback Machine...") and I was at the Grande Ballroom—where my life changed forever—the Grande being but Detroit's knock-off of Bill Graham's original Fillmore Auditorium. And here I was.

Standing in line, I wanted to strip open my Oxford shirt to reveal—what? That "I'm one of you?'" Or maybe slip on my bandana headband and play Frisbee in the park? Certainly a job interview was not where my head was at, though the prospect of Ziff-Davis was enticing...

I'm gonna wave my freak flag high, high!
...and when my mind is wandering there I will go... Next up was the Guess Who's Laughing, followed by a familiar Santana song for which I forgot to write down the title. Maybe it was too familiar, as Santana can sometimes be (Oye como va...mi ritmo...bueno pa gosar...mulata). Dunno what kind of sandie I got; some sorta meat sub with sweet peppers and a street view. I opted out of dining al fresco, though, settling for a window view of the passersby and:

Shoefly, dragonfly, get back to your mother.
Pick up a flat rock, skip it across green river.
We...lllllll!

Then I think there was a forgettable Stevie Wonder song, followed by the inimitable Al Green—Love & Happiness—with its defining opening guitar riff.

Funny, but if you sit in one place long enough, the people walking by start to become repetitive....like you're on a Lionel train set passing the same plastic diner with the same townsfolk stenciled on the windows. But it was way too sunny to be...The Twilight Zone, and the music was way too cool:

That spoon, that spoon, that spoonful.
That spoon, that spoon, that spoonful.

I was straining to identify the next one. What was that? Ah, yes... Woo hoo, witchy woman, she got the moon in her eye, followed immediately by Neil Young's Harvest Moon.

Too many people, too many songs, too little time, and ultimately 1968 had to once again become 2007.


"Toots" Thielemans, Rickenbackers & the Beatles

Walkin' & Hummin'

Over the years I bought a lot of jazz LPs, some of which featured a captivating harmonica part. Examining the jacket credits, this guy "Toots" Thielemans kept cropping up over and over. On Quincy Jones' excellent Gula Matari release (very hard to get on CD!), several recordings by Bob James ...the list goes on extensively. I always loved his work, but had no idea who this "Toots" guy was—other than he was apparently very much in demand.

Sometime later I heard The Flying Monkey Orchestra's I Like the Orange Thing while listening to KYOT in Scottsdale, AZ. Chasing down the Monkeys' excellent Back In the Pool CD (recommended!), the credits listed a veritable who's who of the contemporary jazz scene—including Toots.

Then I read yet another bio on the Fab Four, in which I learned the following: it was this 1958 photo (left) that John Lennon saw one day in Hamburg, Germany, and thought, "Gee, if a Rickenbacker guitar is good enough for Jean "Toots" Thielemans, then the George Shearing Orchestra's guitarist, it's good enough for me!" When the Byrds (David Crosby, Roger McGuinn, et al.) saw A Hard Day's Night at the theater, in turn they rushed right out and got themselves 12-string Rickenbackers, providing that distinctive Byrds sound. All from this one photo and Thielemans' reputation (he had earlier been a member of Charlie Parker's All Stars).

Now I was really curious about Thielemans, perennial winner of the Down Beat readers' and critics' poll in the "miscellaneous instruments" category. So when I discovered he was coming to the renowned Yoshi's sushi restaurant and jazz club two years ago this month, I dragged the wife off for dinner and Toots' act.

On our way to drop our son off at the Oakland airport for a flight back east, we had previously dined in the restaurant section of Yoshi's—located in Jack London Square. Served Japanese fashion (sans shoes), we found the sushi to be of the best quality and knew we'd be back at the first opportunity. This time, though, Joanna and I opted for a stage-side table in the jazz club in order to assure us of a good listening/viewing vantage point. Again we were not disappointed, the sushi being every bit as good as we had remembered.

Then the show began, with Toots, then 83, being helped onstage. Enthralled by his natural charm, we were captivated by his performance, especially given his ability to keep it all going at his age! The lineup also featured Kenny Werner on piano and, by the end of his performance, we had been treated to Toots' command of both the harmonica and electric guitar. Sorry, I don't remember if it was a Rickenbacker.

Now if Yoshi's would only book Oakland's own Pharoah Sanders again...

"Toots" Thielemans performs Sophisticated Lady