Music is nature's language. What it is telling you is to shut up for once and listen.


Being contagious. Hijacking you with the cunning use of a trumpet, a white handkerchief , a huge smile, and a rusty voice that makes your insides glow. contagious.



You cant sell news stories that have data and cautious predictions. Where is the panic? Where is the impending doom? C'mon people , give me something to work with here…

    Opinions / Science / Theory of Relative Ignorance  

..and as I was a yuppy marketing and advertising executive for the better part
of a decade, I am not really impressed with stories of selling your soul to the devil...

    Art & Culture / Music / Blues / Robert Johnson  

Satchmo - Louis Armstrong

Heaven, I'm in heaven…. Ah…Louis Armstrong….
If there is one thing that a singer wants to have is that Satchmo quality.
Being contagious. Hijacking you with the cunning use of a trumpet, a white handkerchief , a huge smile, and a rusty voice that makes your insides glow. contagious.
if you can resist it? Please go to another blog. You are not human.
I can't hear one word in that grinding broken gravel voice without automatically smiling. An involuntary movement of the lips, which gets stronger as the song goes along, thanking god he gave us ears so the smile has somewhere to stop before it breaks my head in two.
The only comfort in this cheek hurting moment is the fact you know your smile will never be as wide as of that small eternal boy called Satchmo.

Life is so easy.
And don’t dare tell me otherwise. It will not work anyway.
whenever I listen to Armstrong, and his oh so easy singing, smooth as sand paper and with that lazy swing that makes it all sound so 'right' , the world is a good place where happy people smile to each other as they groove slowly down a sunny avenue.

Jazz has two faces (other than the seventeen other faces we will not touch now), the dark side of the smoke filled jazz alleys and drunken drug dog eat dog world, and then there is the light. And boy, do Armstrong live in the sunny side of the street. Even when he is sad you know it's not real sorrow…it's something that evolved from that, something that soared above it.

Even when Armstrong sings a sad gospel song like "nobody knows the trouble I've seen" you can never tell if he is crying or smiling. Or if he is doing both, is it the whole entertainer persona even when the clown is sad, or is it really something else. A happy sadness, a sad happiness. Transcendent .

What I do know is that even with the slightly disturbing presence of this Jesus fella, that seems to be in quite a lot of the gospels unfortunately, this is the only song I know that actually makes you want to hug yourself…

And then there is the trumpet.
Why do I always choose to write about those things you can't write about?
how am I going to describe that piercing soft gentle melody moving the chords of your being just to stab you in the heart with a sweet sweet perfect soft rose? Maybe like that.
Or maybe I will just say that the goose bumps are the best certificate of authenticity, and getting goose bumps WHILE you are smiling like a fool, now for that you need REAL talent.

Whenever I hear one of his trumpet parts I wait for THE note. He has this 'tell' as they say in poker. It starts melodic and simple and then comes that one note, that drags it for another second and swirls in your ear, calling for the beginning of the party, and from there it all goes for a walk…. A half step, a dance, a tour of musical prowess, never too much, never too long, never too fast….just wild enough to wink at you, but still with cookies and cold milk caressing your audio entity into that momentary lullaby you so need.

In this duet with Bing Crosby,  you can see Armstrong in one of his even smile-ier moods…
and you can see why Bing Crosby was a very accomplished performer, but near Armstrong he looks so artificial. In the same frame with such uninhibited force of nature and creation, he looks worst then tame. Boring. White bread. (pun intended…)


One of the mythological collaborations in jazz is of course Fitzgerald and Armstrong, which gave us some eternal classics that are now set in stone in the history of music. And in the history of beauty also to be frank. It is not a normal duet  where the result is greater than the sum of the components. It is one component with two sexes and two voices.

These recordings should be studied as a guide to good sex. Really. They both know exactly what they are doing, they are playing each other with every word , with every melodic hook and they are both confident enough and relaxed enough to take it one step further, and push the boundaries just enough so it will be interesting but still comfortable. As I said. Good sex. I need a cigarette…

And like real cool people, they are both above it all. They don’t rush. They don’t push. All this interaction goes on with such a laid back feeling, like old old friends, like a rocking chair on a porch in a cool Sunday afternoon. Like they are doing what is natural, and they know it.
Like it SHOULD be.

Summertime -
Learning the blues-
I've got my life -