In SELF-RELIANCE, Ralph Waldo Emerson writes, “The soul is no traveller; the wise man stays at home.” BACK IN YOUR OWN BACKYARD, written by Dave Dreyer, Billy Rose, and Al Jolson in 1928 (I would give almost all of the credit to Mr. Dreyer) makes the same claim in a different way. It proposes that home is so lovely that it makes travel unnecessary, and that those who roam find their greatest happiness when they return — nostalgia more than transcendentalism, perhaps, but the effect is the same.
Rebecca Kilgore doesn’t present herself as a philosopher, although she does hail from Massachusetts, home of Emerson, Thoreau, and the Alcotts, but she makes this philosophical statement exultant in its hopefulness and its swing.
This performance was recorded at the 26th San Diego Jazz Party, on February 22, 2014. The other philosophers on the stand are Chuck Redd, drums; Nicki Parrott, string bass; Eddie Erickson, guitar; Johnny Varro, piano; Bria Skonberg, trumpet; Antti Sarpila, clarinet.
Home is where such music is.
May your happiness increase!
Posted in "Thanks A Million", Bliss!, Generosities, Ideal Places, Irreplaceable, It's All True, Jazz Titans, Pay Attention!, Swing You Cats!, That Was Fun!, The Heroes Among Us, The Real Thing, The Things We Love
Tagged Al Jolson, Antti Sarpila, Becky Kilgore, Billy Rose, Bria Skonberg, Bronson Alcott, Chuck Redd, Dave Dreyer, Eddie Erickson, Henry David Thoreau, Jazz Lives, Johnny Varro, Louisa May Alcott, Michael Steinman, Nicki Parrott, philosophy, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Rebecca Kilgore, San Diego Jazz Party, Self-Reliance, transcendentalism
Meditations from mid-December 2010 (but they could be anytime in the last few years):
Both Oscar Wilde and Mae West, in very different contexts, had their personae utter the sentiment that too much was just enough — barely so. I am musing on plenitude. Plenitude and its discontents? Or its contents?
When I was a young record collector, with fewer records available to me and limited funds, I would sometimes imagine that one vision of jazz paradise would be having more music than I could possibly listen to. Standing in front of the racks of records in a Greenwich Village shop, I would think covetously of having it all.
Now that my weekly allowance is larger and it seems that everything ever recorded is available for purchase, I haven’t turned demonically acquisitive. I am pleased to report that when I visited two of those shops on a rainy afternoon ten days ago, I found one CD I really wanted to buy, bought it, and was delighted. And I left the stores without any wistful backwards glances. Better to have one CD I would listen to and prize than a half-dozen ones that I would not get through ever.
But at home I am surrounded by music, and not just because I own an iPod. I don’t just mean the CDs and records I’ve acquired over the decades, nor the ones that come through the mail (both solicited and not). As I write this, I am trying not to consider the boxes of cassette tapes next to my desk, or the small hoard of vinyl records.
What caused me even to think of writing this post was a moment this evening where I found myself downloading jazz videos I had taken onto YouTube (something that doesn’t require minute-by-minute supervision) on one computer while listening to a new CD that I wanted to review on my stereo system. In another room, I was using my laptop to transfer music from one format to another.
I wonder what a moralist would make of this scene — a somber illustration of “Be careful what you wish for,” or the epitome of delight? (Of course, I would only consider with any seriousness the opinions of moralists who knew who Walter Page was.)
Posted in "Thanks A Million", It's A Mystery, Pay Attention!, Swing You Cats!, The Things We Love
Tagged iPod, jazz blog, Jazz Lives, Mae West, Michael Steinman, Oscar Wilde, philosophy, plenitude, sufficiency, Walter Page, YouTube