Tag Archives: advertising

FACING “MYRIAD SONIC WORLDS,” THE POET CONSIDERS AN UNSOLICITED EMAIL SENT BY A MUSIC PUBLICIST

THE PRELUDE:

Bring me my Basie alternate takes;

Bring me my Commodores of desire:

Bring me my Cornet: O clouds unfold!

Bring me Lips Page soaring higher!

 

I will not cease from Celebrating Swing,

Nor shall my Blog sleep or my Stats:

Till we have built Fifty-Second Street,

God bless Tom Waller (Fats).

(after William Blake, “And did those feet in ancient time,” much after)

This burst of friendly parody — or is it four-to-the-bar doggerel? — is the result of reading another mass email sent to JAZZ LIVES from a music publicist, which I excerpt below, with details omitted to take it out of the realm of personal abuse:

HOOBOY is the solo project of 23-year old – – – – -, an artist who builds on frenzied electronic tensions with a futuristic take on psychedelic electronic and sampling.  With a highly anticipated debut record, HOOBOY has released a new single, showcasing his expert manipulation and interest in translating the surreal into music.  The music site Yeehaw, notes how the song “starts at a peak, deconstructs itself and builds vertically from there on, finding intriguing ways to explore the tension between pop formality, the orderly nature of computer programming, and the wild artistic impulses that are currently pulsing.”   Another music site, Yesma’am, writes “It’s frenetic, phantasmagoric pop, and it’s often brilliant…- – – – – is lost in the myriad sonic worlds he meticulously crafts throughout this sublime album.”

You get the picture.  Asked to choose between the sound of Dave Tough’s drums in the opening choruses of TAPPIN’ THE COMMODORE TILL and music that evokes “the orderly nature of computer programming,” it’s a hard choice.  I’d have to struggle for many nanoseconds to figure it out.  I might have to ask my friend Stompy Jones for help.

It’s enough to make me want to delete every piece of email unread that comes in without being addressed to “Dear Michael” or “Dear Mr. Steinman.”  Music publicists and other cyber-soliciters, take a note from the South: know your audience and address people by name.

And for me, I’m going to translate the surreal into music by getting up from the computer and taking a walk with the Beloved.

May your happiness increase. 

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CADENCE, RESOUNDING

I’ve mentioned CADENCE Magazine often — but perhaps not often enough — in these pages.  It has a brand-new website, http://www.cadencemagazine.com., which I urge you to visit. 

Candor requires that I say I have written reviews for the magazine for a number of years.  But I would applaud CADENCE even if they had never encouraged me to have my say.  It is the only honest jazz magazine I know . . . which sounds both irascible and contentious, but is true.  I recall that CODA did not accept advertising, but it is now defunct. 

All the other jazz journals I am aware of accept, encourage, and perhaps solicit advertising, and it is hard to imagine the situation where a reviewer might be allowed to say that the new CD by the Blenheim Palace Hot Boys was terrible if the BPHB had paid for an ad on the facing page. 

CADENCE has advertising, it is true, but it is kept to a separate section in the way that the new puppy might be kept in the kitchen.  And — as a reviewer — I have always been asked to tell the truth, and if the truth was impolitely stated, no one suggested that I could benefit from a course in good manners. 

Editor Bob Rusch is one of the great men in support of creative improvised music, and some of the most rewarding discs I know have emerged precisely because he has put his money where his beliefs are.  All this is long prelude to my happily drawing your attention to the site — as a way of encouraging you to consider subscribing to the magazine. 

My most traditionally-minded readers will at first think that the names they see in the sample pages are obscure, but (for instance) vibraphonist Mark Sherman is on Dan Block’s splendid new Ellington CD . . . and everyone is obscure to someone.  I have written about the most delightfully old-fashioned New Orleans jazz in CADENCE’s pages, so even before I wrote for the magazine, I was a happy reader. 

Check it out!

JACK, MUGGSY, JO, JAKE, GENE, SONNY

Truth in advertising?  I hope so — and it’s a pleasure to see these artists portrayed in the media as if their playing was meaningful art and their opinions meant something.

Of course, I don’t want to think about how many young men and women were disillusioned when they found out that owning a Gene Krupa drum set didn’t make them Gene Krupa . . . but I admire they for hoping and trying.  And I thank eBay for being our national museum, ever-changing, of such endearingly weird memorabilia.

PAPER EPHEMERA, CONTINUED

Drummer and jazz scholar Kevin Dorn and I were discussing these historical drum ads at Birdland last week.  Although we delight in them, we share the same skepticism.  A drum company representative came up to George Wettling, say, and asked, “George, would you like a new set of _ _ _ _ _ drums for free?  And we’ll give you a hundred dollars to let us use your picture in an ad?”  Wettling or anyone else always could use another set of drums, as well as the money, so he posed for a photo behind the set of drums that he swore were his favorites.  Perhaps a thousand young men went out and beleaguered their parents to buy just that set because their idol played it. 

Mildly fraudulent or not, full of language we doubt the drummer himself used, these pages are enchanting.  How many times in our lives will we see Dave Tough (not Davey, mind you) advertising something in a magazine — as if people would follow his lead?  It suggests a pre-Fall universe, now vanished.  This ad (like the Ray Bauduc autograph in the previous post) is available for purchase at eBay.  A thrilling oddity, never to come again.

Tough