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Bebop Spoken There

Dave Gelly: “From 1 January 1920, when prohibition was imposed in the US, people didn’t stop drinking, they just stopped drinking legally.” – (Jazz Journal October 2017).

Regina Carter: “When I was a teenager, I would daydream about going out on a date and dancing to Ella’s music.” (Down Beat October 2017).

Bebop Spoken Here on hold

As of tonight (November 15) at 21:00 hrs, this site will be temporarily on hold to allow for essential executive maintenance. Some minor activity may be possible during this period and we hope to have normal service resumed as soon as possible.
We apologise for any inconvenience caused.
Lance

Today Thursday November 16

Afternoon
Vieux Carré Jazzmen - Holystone, Whitley Rd., nr. Newcastle NE27 0DA. 1:00pm. Free.

Tees Valley Jazzmen - White Horse Hotel, Burtree Lane, Harrowgate Hill, Darlington DL1 3AD. Tel: 01325 463262. 1:30pm. Free.

Evening.
Maine Street Jazzmen - Potter’s Wheel, Sunniside, Gateshead NE16 5EE.

Ponyland - Bar Loco, 22 Leazes Park Road, Newcastle NE1 4PG. Tel: 0191 232 5871. 8:30pm. Free.

TBA – Railway, Wellington St., Gateshead. 8pm.

Mary Coughlan - Queen Vic, 78 Victoria Road, South Shields NE33 5PQ. 0191 447 0290. Doors 7:00pm. £18.00 (advance) from The Word (South Shields Library) or by card, tel 0191 427 4597.

Tees Hot Club w. Kevin Eland (trumpet); Donna Hewitt (sax); Graham Thompson (keys) - Dorman’s, Oxford Road, Middlesbrough TS5 5DT. 9:00pm. Free.

New Orleans Preservation Jazz Band - Oxbridge, Oxbridge Lane, Stockton TS18 4AW. 8:30pm.01642 678129.

To the best of our knowledge, details of the above events are correct but may be subject to alteration.

Wednesday, January 04, 2017

Bongo Boy And Butt Girl - An In Chanting Couple (Another gem from Scott Black)

Seems that the skinny white guy who wears a Rastafarian hat and plays the bongos, has decided to expand his horizons. He has taken up chanting to add to the various musical things he can’t do. I was sitting here in a quiet repose and the thwapping sound of someone smacking an innocent bongo started up. It’s not a problem really, for I possess industrial strength earplugs for such things as train wrecks, asteroids, new age music, rap and neighbours who play bongos. But after a few minutes, he started bellowing out what sounded like an impersonation of a wounded steer to me. Or perhaps a Great Dane with an infected tooth, but you get the idea. It wasn’t in any language that I’ve ever heard of before, it made no sense and had no sense of pitch to it, or talent for that matter.

His girlfriend is a short and very cute blonde of college age I suspect, with one slight flaw. I think she was born with two asses. Either that or she uses that caboose for shoplifting. It’s hard to say. Because she seems rather slender until you reach the naval region and it blossoms from there. But we met earlier for the first time today while waiting for the eternal elevator to arrive. They know I live next to them and that’s all they know. He didn’t look at me and she looked and gave a half smile. “Hello.” I offered. “Hello.” she offered back. Now one would think that would be the end of it, we would wait for the elevator, take it to the bottom floor and each go their own way, right? But noooooooo! The girl with the party sized pooper just had to say something that made me bite my tongue, think of sick babies, the Kardashians joining a road company of “The Sound Of Music”, or even waking up to discover that I was in some hotel room and still on the road with Redbone. All it took was two simple words to put me through one of greatest attempts of showing restraint in my life. That’s it…two words. And they were said with a straight face and in a very smug manner as well.
“We’re musicians.” The knees started to buckle. That built in sarcasm gene that I was born with was fighting the rest of my body that was working overtime trying to suppress it with everything from bribes to threats. Then I caught myself just in time from adding two more words to the conversation that very well could have eventually ended in a homicide. I started to say “Me too”, but caught it in the “M” stage and left it there. I could easily imagine the knocks on the door and invites for a “jam session” with wooden flute, bongo and chanting at all hours of the day and night. I was going to say that they sound like a teenage garage band in India, but having spent time there years ago, I don’t recall ever seeing a single garage in India. A stable band perhaps? But I guess that’s what made those two words sound surreal. The totally smug way she said it! Almost with a sneer in fact. As I was holding myself back from jumping down the elevator shaft, Bongo Boy hit a home run and cleared the bases. He removed his Jiffy Pop Rastafarian Hat and he had just gotten his reddish dreadlocks shaved down to the bone. He looked like the Krishna guys who used to dance at the airports before the TSA and good taste drove them away. But he still wore the hat. It looked pretty damned dumb before when he had it stuffed full of red dreadlocks. Now it looked like a huge multi-coloured tongue flapping from the back of his head.
Finally, the elevator arrived and once the door closed, it was easy to see that deodorant wasn’t very high on their shopping list either. My eyes were watering. I wanted to fart just to improve the air quality in the elevator. I still have pretty good lungs and held my breath for the rest of the ride after that first near fatal inhale. We arrived at the bottom floor and there was the usual crowd waiting to get in. As they did, I could hear different languages groaning about the smell. I just hope they didn’t think it was me. I'm clean. Very clean.

Rast A. Farian

1 comment :

Anonymous said...

Scott's posts are always good for a big larf ..... and we jazzers should always remember that he is a top class horn player! Really, one of the finest .....

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About this blog - contact details.

Bebop Spoken Here -- Here, being the north-east of England -- centred in the blues heartland of Newcastle and reaching down to the Tees Delta and looking upwards to the Land of the Kilt.
Not a very original title, I know; not even an accurate one as my taste, whilst centred around the music of Bird and Diz, extends in many directions and I listen to everything from King Oliver to Chick Corea and beyond. Not forgetting the Great American Songbook the contents of which has provided the inspiration for much great jazz and quality popular singing for round about a century.
The idea of this blog is for you to share your thoughts and pass on your comments on discs, gigs, jazz - music in general. If you've been to a gig/concert or heard a CD that knocked you sideways please share your views with us. Tell us about your favourites, your memories, your dislikes.
Lance (Who wishes it to be known that he is not responsible for postings other than his own and that he's not always responsible for them.)
Contact: lanceliddle@gmail.com I look forward to hearing from you.

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