barbara morrison does sydney

BM.jpg Sparingly: Barbara Morrison rocks. Her music is very popular with swing dancers (though I’m always surprised that so few go see her shows when she’s in town – she’s a seasoned musicians who specialises in playing for dancers), and she’s doing a few shows in Sydney and one in Melbourne. She’s doing one special show for dancers with specially-priced tickets: only $30 for the first 100 tickets. She’ll be playing with the Brad Child Orchestra & John Harkins Trio. I met Brad Child last week at the Unity Hall Pub (where we’ll be this afternoon… quite soon… if you like jass) and he’s quite keen on the gig. I’m curious and looking forward to it.
From the site…
US Jazz/Blues Vocalist BARBARA MORRISON RETURNS BY POPULAR DEMAND in “MEMORIES of ELLA, SARAH & BILLIE”
The undisputed first ladies of Jazz Ella Fitzgerald, Sarah Vaughan and Billie Holliday are being saluted by US acclaimed jazz/blues vocalist Barbara Morrison, who is returning by popular demand to Australian stages in August 2008.
“The Captivating Ms. Morrison just tears ‘em up!” (LA Scoop)
“A joy! At Carnegie Hall, Barbara Morrison delivered one song a la Esther Phillips and another with Ella Fitzgerald’s blithe scat singing.” (New York Times)
and “She can be as playful as Ella, as thoughtful as Sarah, as naughty as Etta. Barbara Morrison, has an international following with her big personality and delicious sense of swing” (The Jazz World Magazine).
Where and when?
Thursday, August 21 from 7:30 pm
Factory Theatre, 105 Victoria Road, Enmore, Sydney, Australia

jazz on a winter’s day

1. I am full of snot because I forgot to take my antihistamine yesterday and our house is full of moving dust.
2. I got up late because we went dancing at the Roxbury. Yes, we had a night at the Roxbury. It was wicked fun – a crowded, pumping room with lots of dancers and lots of fun. There’s a lot of dancing in Sydney, and a lot of dancers. So far we have been out dancing four times (in two weeks!), and had to beg off a fifth because we were wrecked from house hunting. It wasn’t just a heap of fun because there were so many dancers there, it was also a heap of fun because there’s such a range of dancing styles on the floor. There’re two major schools in Sydney, one which is an off-shoot of a Melbourne school, another which also has an interstate presence and which teaches ‘Hollywood’ style. I have to say that there were some leads there last night that blew my brain – they were so good I just thought ‘just follow, just follow – don’t muck this up with any fancy business’.
They weren’t just technically good dancers, they were also socially ‘good’ – they’d smile and respond and interact with their partners and did nice things like say “thanks for that dance!” and ask for another with enthusiasm. They were also more musically interesting – not just dancing the same old boring steps in the same old combinations, regardless of phrasing or energy or the structure of the song generally. And then they were great because they did things like include interesting jazz steps, experiment with the connection and really make me pay attention.
First night in town dancing I was suddenly struck by how obstructive my own bad habits are to my following. And when I danced with someone who ‘felt’ like a Melbourne dancer (yanking me in on one, rather than using a more mellow lead in), I suddenly thought ‘oh, this is why I have this bad habit of running in one, rather than waiting to be led – I’m trying to protect myself and avoid yank’. But that same protective rush is also impeding my following – it’s like I’m interrupting and yapping on without listening to their idea; I’m finishing their sentences. And in turn this makes it difficult for us to actually have a proper conversation where we’re both contributing equally.
A nice thing about dancing in a really diverse scene with lots of leads who take very different approaches is that I have to pick up my game and I feel inspired and really interested in actually dancing. Another nice thing is that it’s really nice to watch the floor. In fact, it feels like we’re at an exchange – even The Squeeze is dancing a lot. We’re possibly going dancing again tonight (a big band squeezed into the Unity Hall pub in Balmain this afternoon) and while I’m a bit hesitant as we have more house stuff to do, he’s all “yep, we’ll be there!”
There’re actually quite a few live bands to see in Sydney. In fact, there’s not much of a DJing culture at all here, and most people are into live music for their dancing. This is really very nice – we’ve only seen one band so far, but it’s always exciting to see new musicians. The year we went to SLX (the Sydney Lindy Exchange) the exchange coincided with the Manly Jazz Festival – now that was special.
jsd.jpg 3. Which is a nice segue to my next point. Right now I’m watching Jazz on a Summer’s Day, a 1960 film made about the Newport Jazz Festival. FXH recommended it in his comment to this post, but I’d mistaken it for another film. Any how, I ordered it on our Quickflix account and I’m watching it right now, while I wipe my nose and The Squeeze has a long, deliciously decadent lie-in (the first he’s had in about a month). It’s a great film, the music is really fabulous and the visuals are really neat – lots of crowd footage, scenes from the yacht race and of course, really, really amazing footage of musicians. anita1.jpg
Newport looms large in my mind for a number of reasons. Firstly, because there are so many freakin’ amazing albums featuring performances from the festival.
mj.jpg My most recent purchase in this series was the Mahalia Jackson live in 1958, and that really is fully sick. Beyond that, there’s the Count Basie at Newport album, and of course, the Ellington at Newport in ’56. Both of these are really neat. What makes them so neat is the fact that these were really big stars live in front of a massive crowd at an outdoor festival.
hs.jpgBeyond these, Newport is also an important character in a film I’ve always loved, High Society. Louis Armstrong stars in High Society, and the protagonist Dexter is played by Bing Crosby. Dexter is set up as a patron/organiser? (I can’t remember which) of the Newport Jazz Festival, and the entire film is set in Newport. There’re some interesting class things going on in the film, the one that always catches my interest being the way Armstrong is set up as the ‘narrative’ of the film in the opening scene as he and his band arrive in town in a coach (a nice contrast with Samantha’s sports car). Armstrong also sings the really great song ‘Now You Has Jazz’ with Bing Crosby, a song which is popular with dancers (and good fun for dancing). There’s a sweet scene where Armstrong and the band introduce the very straight, very white crowd of Newport socialites to jazz. They play the one song then it’s back to straighty-one-eighty unswing, unjazz for the rest of the party. I really like the idea of a black man (and such an important man in the history of jazz) introducing a bunch of straights to jazz at a Newport society house party. The crowd are apparently completely unaware of the festival and its significance – oblivious to the world beyond their high society manners and conflicts. Crosby’s role is kind of problematic, set up as he is, as the ‘patron’ for the festival.
It’s interesting to watch High Society in reference to Jazz on a Summer’s Day, and in the light of the festival’s history more generally. And I’m very grateful to FXH for getting me onto this film in the first place.

lindy hop 80s style

I know it’s wrong to just post youtube clips, but I had to. This is some dancing from the 80s – I’m sure I recognise some famous doods there, but I’m confident enough to specify. But you HAVE to watch through to see two chicks dancing together – they rock.

In a similar vein, here’s some more 80s lindy. This time it’s the Harlem Hot Shots (Swedish superstars) doing a fully sick recreation of very famous routine(s). These guys are really tight, pulling out shit that’s tres chic with the kids today… and to think, some of those kids were all ‘I only dance smooth’ five years ago. Sigh.

FYI: here’s the original routine referenced by the Hot Shots:

…and of course, the Hellza routine:

camp jitterbug 08

The Camp Jitterbug clips are always really nice – some wonderful editing (evidencing a dancer’s understanding of tempo, rhythm and, well, wonderfulness), and this is teaser for this year’s DVD:

My favourite part of any competition (and CJ is a comp weekend), is the solo charleston. Here’s this year’s final:

That girl in the final there, that’s Sharon – she’s Australian. I especially love the dynamic between competitors and between competitors and crowd in this type of competition. There’s a real to-and-fro – the dancers dance better with encouragement. And you can hear the crowd’s response when they like something – not just louder, but an increase in intensity. And of course, this type of competition requires dancers know something about phrasing – they send themselves in at the end of a phrase and have to get themselves out. And of course, with a live band all this communication and creative reciprocity is even more exciting.

sinner, you better get ready: more liveblogging unpacking

My mum got me a few great CDs when she was in Washington (DC, that is). She went to about a million Smithsonian museums, and gotted me some great CDS. Just in case you didn’t know, the Smithsonian collection includes some freaking amazing recordings of American folk music (including jazz, blues, gospels, spirituals, etc etc etc). I am a big old nerd for late 19th and early 20th century American music. I prefer jazz and blues, but I’m also a nut for some of the sort of music you might have heard on the Cohen Brothers’ film O brother, where art thou?. Anyhow, one of the CDs mum got me is called VA/Classic Southern Gospel From Smithsonian Folkways. I know my grammar is broken, but I am suddenly very tired.
Any how, I have moved on from Leadbelly (which was another mum gotted CD, btw) to this stuff. Beginning with The Lilly Brothers singing ‘Sinner, you’d better get ready’. Sweet. I like this sort of southern gospel/bluegrass type stuff for the obvious development of British/European folk forms. I’m a nerd for being able to hear the history of a music/see the history of a dance in its current form. Especially when we’re talking about diaspora. I likes folk music and dance because they change – they’re not institutionalised and static. They’re constantly changing to suit people’s needs and interests. Just like language. Fully sick.
(If you’re interested, mum also got me a couple of Harlem Hamfats CDs: a document self titled job (vol 3) and Let’s Get Drunk and Truck. I love that shit).

“the television, he is fixed”: more ‘liveblogging’ unpacking

So spoketh The Squeeze. All that talk about being an AV queen and setting up the electrics… what rot. The upshot: basically, I got real bored and wandered off to chip the paint off the door latches so they’d close properly. Truly. Well, I only did two doors before The Squeeze said (rather pathetically) “that was the one job I really wanted to do.” I did text him today to see if it was ok for me to do the electrics and he was cool with that. But the door latch chipping? Not to be shared.
So the television, he has electrics. More importantly, the airtunes is now G-O. So I have Leadbelly on, starting with my favourite song, ‘4,5 and 9’. My version has Willie the Lion Smith. It reminds me of… oh, I don’t know, one of those modern 60s artists like… Bob Dylan. Anyways, it’s a great song. I like it.
For the past couple of nights I’ve been in bed by this time. Tonight I am on the couch, making sweet, sweet internet. The Squeeze is off in another part of the house doing something rattley. There’s a large, loud plane labouring overhead, on it’s way to Marrickville and then the airport. I have cleverly covered up the second loungeroom powerpoint with a full (and very large) bookcase, so I’m getting lappy power from a too-tight cord, stretched from behind the afore mentioned telly to the couch. The coffee table is just a bit too far away to comfortably rest my feet. I feel I might have grown new heel bones. If Mz Tartan has new bones disease, so do I. But obviously a more exotic, northern strain affecting the nether extremities. I wish I knew where the sitting room cushions were so I could ease my discomfort. Meanwhile I have to balance the lappy way down on my legs, so my arms are stretched waaaay out.
There are many, many cafes in Summer Hill. But no hardware store. This is a Wrong Thing, and perhaps a sad indication of Worse To Come. To whit*, I have seen only one fabric store in this big city, and that was in Marrickville. Apparently Marrickville is the place to be. Like Footscray, but with hills and no trams. There’s a dearth of trams in this town, and I feel the lack. The roads are disturbingly narrow and tend to twist and turn a bit too much. What have they got to hide? I like a long, straight road that tapers off in the distance.
We have not had telly since we moved in, and haven’t missed it. What with all that going to bed early. But now we do. The Squeeze is in another room and doesn’t seem to have missed it. I’d rathe listen to Leadbelly yelling incoherently about someone’s momma. The internet, though, she has destroyed our after dinner conversation deader than ever telly could. It requires greater attention.
Another important thing before I sign off: I own three dining tables. One is a large chunk of pale pine that I took from the Parents in Brisbane and had dropped off to me in Melbourne on their way through to Hobart. I sanded it back. It’s large, hard and heavy, and you can stick it full of pins when you’re sewing. Earlier this year The Squeeze inherited a couple of dining tables from his grandfather, as selected by me (tables, not grandfather – though I would have selected him. He was ace). One is silky oak. One is… well, I’m not sure, but I’m suspecting some other sort of oak. Both are covered in a nasty dark varnish – the sort I’ve sanded away from many other pieces of hidden, beautiful native woods. I haven’t managed to sand either of these tables, though. Not in six months. But when we moved into this house, the removalists and I had a little discussion about the three dining tables, and where I should put them. Or have them put (they were doing the putting – I had the greater responsibilities of Directing Putting and Crossing Off Items on the master list). I decided to put the larger grandfather table in the (lovely black and white tiled floor) kitchen. It looks sweeeeeet.
Anyways, the other two are now in our not-very-secure garage (along with the bikes – cross your fingers and knock on wood for their safety, friends), waiting for me to make a Decision about them. I am considering making over part of a bedroom for a sewing room. That will require a table. But I’m not sure it’s worth it, seeing as how you can only buy your clothes ready made in this town.
…another note: when I’m at my most active, lifestyle wise, I have no time to sew, but run out of clothes as I get skinnier. When I’m at my least active, I have plenty of time to sew, but bemoan the expanding girth requiring new widths and elasticated waist lines.
*This is the first time I’ve used this expression. I am pretending it’s proper talk.

live blogging (almost) unpacking an interstate move

The best part of moving in is unpacking the backpack you’ve been living out of for a month. Opening drawers is a far better way of accessing your clothes than unzipping pockets.
The next best thing about moving in is finally being able to do a few loads of laundry and then letting it sit out on the line in the sun all day.
Another very nice thing about moving in is reminding yourself that you can a) reassemble Ikea furniture, and b) assemble complicated home audio-video set ups all on your own. With judicious use of Tshirts for moving large, heavy thing and walks to the cafe for recuperative afternoon teas.
I have also been struck by the kindness of people. Not just strangers, but all sorts of people. Before we left Melbourne (which, I should note, we did only last week, only three weeks after our decision to follow The Squeeze’s job offer north to the land of winter-days-that-feel-like-Melbourne-spring) I had a series of emails from friends (and strangers) offering to do me favours – hook me up with work, hook me up with DJing gigs, help me find a place to live, host us while we looked for a house of our own, etc etc etc. These people have all been so wonderful – there’ve literally been dozens coming out of the woodwork, offering advice on transitional accommodation, teaching gigs, new town tidbits (where to live? Where to dance? Where to shop?) and even just dropping a line or calling or emailing or just stopping by to say ‘welcome!’
At this rate Sydney is going to win friendliest city. I’d remembered it being a bit faster and ruder than Brisbane or Melbourne, but it’s actually still Australian-type friendly – just faster. The real estate agents have been polite and helpful (!!! no wai! WAI!!1!1!), there are Brunswick type people (Malta, Greece and Italy were all well represented this week – Charlie, Nick and Maria, respectively), though there wasn’t quite enough interest from passers by in the removals truck on Tuesday. If this was Brunswick at least half a dozen little men would have wandered out to have a stare and to offer advice. I guess it was the rain kept them away.
I have spent the last three days unpacking like mad – kitchen first, followed by books. Mostly to clear away the book box ramparts keeping us from the couch, our beds and making dinner. Today I have reassembled a desk, a bed and a stereo cabinet. Yesterday I built five book cases. On the first day I was so tired when The Squeeze came home from work (he had to start straight away, or he’d be here carrying heavy things) I could only lie pathetically on the couch while he made dinner in our lovely new kitchen. Then I went to ‘just have a lie down’ at about 7.30, before ending up passing out – dead to the world – about an hour later. But last night I was able to stay up til at least 9.30! Partly because the internet was finally unpacked and reassembled. I think it’s an Ikea product – took an inordinate amount of screwing about.
Speaking of which, because we found a house on the first day looking (true! direct from the airport and everything!), we were able to use our hire car to do some Large Object Shopping. We’d been staying with a variety of friends and family of friends during that week (a big shout out to the Frase’s Ps and to my Ps’ buddies), so had visited no fewer than four different shopping centers. In part because the outer suburbs don’t seem to have strip shopping here (just malls). But also because we ended up going to a (blurgh) Ikea to buy a new cupboard. It was crowded and just as horrible as usual – we didn’t enjoy it one bit. Though I did see a rug I quite fancy (could be Strib, though it wasn’t as brightly coloured as that one in the picture… could be Gedser), we didn’t find a cupboard (though I guess wardrobe is a more accurate term) and we didn’t buy one single thing. Luckily we’d been to a Big W just the day before (at the far superior… Burwood? shopping centre – we recommend that centre. It had a wall of windows to the outside world in the food court, and you could see a pretty sandstone shrine while you ate your fairly decent salad), so we didn’t end up buying a rubbish bin or a broom or a stupid animal-shaped dustpan and brush from Ikea. Instead we bought ordinary, dull as dishwater ones from Big W. But it was useful having a car for a week while we looked at houses. It was easier to get around (especially when it rained), we could buy those Large Objects – jumbo sized laundry detergent and bottles of juice, brooms, etc and it gave us a quicker way to explore a large city.
Overall, we Approve of Sydney. It is, unfortunately, a bit hilly and the streets are a bit narrow for bikes. They have hardly any bike lanes, and the few bike riders we have seen seem a bit dumb – they don’t drive too safe. The car drivers are utterly clueless when it comes to driving safely with bikes, and we suspect there’ll be less biking in our future… though I hope not. The Squeeze likes to commute by bike and I like the independence and freeness of it.
Remind me to post photos – our house is sweet. I am especially in love with our kitchen and bathroom – new! Cleanable! Sweet!

whinge, speech, whine, blah blah blah

Now that most of our stuff is packed up there’s not much crafting to be done. No pop up tools. No sewing machines. No yarn. Just me, the telly, all the Buffy and Angel DVDs and the heater. I could say that I’m bored… but that would be… ungrateful? Anyhoo, I’m looking forward to dinner: ma por tofu. The Squeeze is the best ma por tofu maker ever. He’s always been a really big fan of that particular dish, and now I love it too. It’s comfort food. Yummy, delicious, glutinous comfort food.
In other news, it is pretty good to have the house stuff under control. Packing is right on track. The garden is still kind of trashed – it’s steadily being worked on, but the weather is a bit off-putting. The cleaning looms, of course – five years worth of occupancy is going to take a little more cleaning than I’m used to. But it’s a good thing we’re tough.
–Aside: Doesn’t Buffy whine and whinge and speech and bore and whine and annoy and whinge and … oh, man, will she ever shut up? Season 7 is just one long, boring, annoying bitch fest. Harden up, Buffy! Good thing Angel brings it a little more in the parallel season…–
Is The Squeeze ever coming home? All that ma por tofu talk is making me HUNGRY!
I don’t think I have anything more to say, really. So I might as well carry on with the annoying Buffy rubbish.