It’s time for another collection and consideration of the odd ways in which people find JAZZ LIVES. What they do when they alight, and how long they stay is a matter for philosophers or perhaps ornithologists. For myself, I simply marvel at the weird intricacies of what used to be called the World Wide Web. Herewith (and to wit), the latest examples, with commentary in parentheses:
fats waller white man’s stomp (Yes, there was a Fats Waller composition — legend has it composed to pay off a gargantuan late-night snack) called WHITEMAN STOMP. Here the Googler has made it into something more pointed, perhaps even racially ominous: a musical depiction of the jackbooted Caucasian in the apartment above?)
wife jazz brushes (The literal-minded reader will easily see that this is only a misprint, and what was meant was “wire brushes for jazz drumming” or something less ambiguous. But the mind delights in the possibilities: does one brush one’s wife to a jazz score, or to a syncopated rhythm, or is this an early annotation of the unheralded skills of women jazz percussionists? Research!)
artie show (Exhibitionistic clarinetist, recorded for the Bluebird label.)
family watching radio (This, I assume, refers to one of many famous photographs of the cozy family seated in the living room, children on the rug, absorbing the sounds coming out of the large, burnished mahogany radio. But the particular search terms here make it sound as if this family was prematurely prescient. “Something called television is on the way in a few decades — until then, let’s just stare at the radio hard enough so that we see things!”)
world war two ii radio listen listening (A cousin of the above, but your guess is better than mine here.)
tuba rose flower varieties (Perhaps some tuba players — known or unknown — have despaired of finding sufficient gigs to make a living, and have turned their tubas into shiny portable flowerpots, a-blossom with roses?)
what music goes with jazz (The winner, the favorite. A deep philosophical question. What is the sound of one jazz clapping? If jazz falls in the forest, does someone blog about it?)
This piece of text isn’t a search engine term, but I thought it deserved attention. Anyone with a blog has to delete a goodly number of spam comments. Sometimes they are gibberish; sometimes they advertise a product promising erotic bliss . . . and then there’s the sub-category of Vague Praise: an all-purpose statement that the sender hopes will woo the recipient into posting it and thus advertising the sender’s website. I ignore these, but not this one: a comment on a post I had written about the recent Bill Savory collection:
Can I just say what a relief to discover someone who truly knows what theyre talking about on a internet. You truly know how to bring an dilemma to light and make it important. A lot more men and women have to read this and realize this side of the story. I cant think youre not much more well-liked simply because you really have the gift.
And this one (to which I responded politely, after doing a little research on the requester’s behalf):
Hello sir, my name is M—. I have been instructed to write a paper on a musician, and i have selected X—- Y—-. Would you happen to know any way i could contact him?
What is there to say? (And what is there to do?) For the record, I directed the writer above in what I thought were useful directions — musician-colleagues of XY — but I never heard back, so I don’t know if my efforts were to no avail.