Mora’s Modern Swingtet’s 20th Century Closet

Mora’s Modern Swinget‘s 20th Century Closet.
A contemporary band who specialise in the sort of music I like most (earlier swinging jazz and 20s hot jazz), the Swingtet are a smaller version of the Rhythmists (they could be a completely different band that Mora runs, I haven’t checked – I have Dumb Brain right now). I was happy with the Rhythmists’ Call of the Freaks and have my eye on their latest album
This is fun stuff because the quality’s good, the songs are really neat (some of my favourites) and this sort of action is a great introduction to old school music for the more conservative/groover dancing crowd.
It’s nice to have a few songs by my favourite artists – I’ll list them below – my favourite small group artists:

The album contains 20 tracks of great swing of the 1930s and 1940s, originally performed by such bands as the John Kirby Orchestra, Artie Shaw’s Gramercy Five, Tommy Dorsey’s Clambake Seven, and the Duke Ellington small groups

And you know how I feel about Ellington. But I’m also a keen fan of John Kirby. I like that smaller, ‘chamber jazz’ sound. Maybe I need to explore Tommy Dorsey’s smaller groups?
Song highlights:
Hop, Skip and Jump – 191bpm – 2004 – 2:44
It’s interesting to compare this with the Campus Five version (which I talked about here). I might prefer the Campus 5 version, but I haven’t listened to them back to back yet, so I can’t be sure.
Krum Elbow Blues – 162bpm – 2004 – 2:45
I love the Ellington version of this song that I have (‘Krum Elbow Blues’ – Johnny Hodges and His Orchestra – 153bpm – 1938 – The Duke’s Men: The Small Groups, vol. 2 – 2:35), and I don’t have Mora’s liner notes in front of me, but he could have used that arrangement (that’s actually a big fat guess). It’s still a great song, and this is a decent version.
Effervescent Blues – 122bpm – 2004 – 3:07
Another ‘cover’ of one of my favourite songs (‘Effervescent Blues’ – John Kirby Sextet – 119bpm – 1939 – John Kirby Sextet: Complete Columbia and RCA Victor Recordings (disc 01) – 2:50), I do prefer Kirby’s version, but the quality of that version that I have is a bit dodgy. Not really up to places like CBD at all.
Jump Steady – 172bpm – 2004 – 2:39
I don’t have the liner notes in front of me, nor do I have another version of this in my itunes, so I’m not sure who the original’s by. But this is fun.
There are many other great tracks, but these are the ones at the front of my brain right now.
I do have some complaints about this album, though. I’m not struck on the vocalist, Kayre Morrison. She’s a bit… hoity toity. This band, all over, is a bit… uptight. Unhep.
I prefer the Willie Bryant versions of Rigamarole and A Viper’s Moan, for example, because they sound rawer, wilder and more emotionally authentic. The problem with some of these recreationist guys, is that they spend so much energy and effort on doing really careful reproductions of other artists’ work, they forget to put themselves into the music. I’ve written about this before here, so I needn’t say more than to repeat the last line of that post: “I like a little grunt, a little grit in my …music”.

Roy Eldridge’s After You’ve Gone

Roy Eldridge’s After You’ve Gone.
I’m feeling a bit tired and bashed about my the anithistamines I’ve had to take to save my sanity (I could, quite possibly, scratch my nose off my face otherwise), so I can’t write much.
Song highlights:
All the Cats Join In – Buster Harding with Roy Eldridge and his Orchestra – 176bpm – 1946 – 2:45
Jump Through The Window – Roy Eldridge and his Orchestra – 154bpm – 1943 – 2:42
Hi Ho Trailus Boot Whip – Roy Eldridge and his Orchestra – 224bpm – 1946 – 2:45
Sometimes a bit too much squawky brass, but also some greatly fun dancing action.

manning-palooza


This is a lovely clip (URL) of Frankie Manning and Norma Miller Dawn Hampton dancing together at the The Jelly Roll 4th Anniversary Party in New York on the 10th February this year. Frankie is 93, Norma Dawn is 87 ??. Both of them can still dance like mofos. The song is Shiny Stockings (Basie, of course, but performed by the George Gee big band).
Manning_Australia_1938.jpg
I’m currently going through a big Frankie Manning phase. If I’m leading dumb I think to myself ‘what would Frankie do?’ Sure, he’d tell a long story about boobies, but then he’d do something silly to make the ladies laugh. I dig Norma Dawn, but this is a story about Frankie.
Manning has an autobiography coming out soon, which you can pre-order on amazon here.
There’s also an interesting interview with Manning (which you can download here, or grab via Yehoodi). At one point Manu asks Frankie about segregation. Manning’s answer is interesting, as he tells a number of stories which, while illustrating the nastiness of segregation, are also funny. They also – most interesting of all – make it clear that the best way of dealing with segregation if you didn’t want trouble was to quietly leave the room – to avoid conflict. It made me wonder if all those years of avoiding conflict has contributed to older African Americans metaphorically ‘leaving the room’ when segregation and race politics enter the discussion. Just quietly avoiding the issue or redirecting with a funny story. It’s fascinating, and something I’d like to find out more about.
—EDIT: to correct my not-paying-attention mistakes. Dawn Hampton and Norma Miller are two different people. Trev also pays more attention than I do —
—EDIT #2: Frankie Manning will be in Australia, in Sydney, in March/April (you can read the most unhelpful website here). I have no solid information on this gig, as it’s run by a woman/school who don’t do very good promotion. But of course, if you’re interested, this is one of the few chances you’ll get to hear/see Frankie teaching, talking and dancing in person in Australia—

nothing distracts like the frustration of being a very slow learner

I gots the email monkey. Each time the little red bubble thing pops up to let me know I have a new email I have to rush and check. If it’s come to my ‘official’ email address (ie not one that has anything to genetic engineering gone totally wacked) my heart rate jumps.
I’m waiting word on a postdoc I applied for that is ‘totally me’. In fact, so me it’s like they wrote the application with me in mind. The Squeeze said I should just have sent them my thesis with a short note: “I hear you have a position for me?”.
All this ‘it’s just so perfect for you!’ talk (which seems to have spread all over the continent – friends in Canberra, Perth, Brisbane and Tasmania have commented – the Ps are still being Proud Ps and blabbing my academic achievements to the world) only adds to the pressure. It’s entirely likely that I didn’t write a terribly great application letter, that my CV was crap and my discussion of my current research interests was dodgy. I don’t have enough experience with academic job applications to know what I’m supposed to do. And I’m not very good at being really serious and formal. It doesn’t help that this is a postdoc with a very flash American university. Pressure? What pressure?
Applications had to be in by the 13th February.

Finalists will be determined, appropriate visits to campus arranged, and a candidate selected by March, 2007.

So we’re looking at about two weeks til I hear, right?
God, this is killing me. I don’t really feel like I have a chance (though I look ok on paper, even though I don’t have millions of publications – I have about 5 waiting for paper incarnations but who cares about them when the chips are down?). But I’d really like the job – it’s a job where they want someone like this:

…a scholar in dance history/theory who examines dance forms as cultural practice with relationship to any of the following: international cultural exchange, globalization and globalizing practice, national and/or nationalist formations of embodied identities and cultures, and/or transnational and diasporic practice. We are open to the following geopolitical areas of specialization: Latin America (including the Caribbean, Central and South America), the African Subcontinent, the Middle East, East Asia, and South Asia.

See what I mean? Even the area of geopolitical specialisation applies, as I’m big on African vernacular dance history. It really is like they thought ‘hm, we want this girl. How can we get her?’ That, of course, makes it even worse. I really don’t feel positive about this application, but then, it is a perfect match. But did I communicate just how perfect? I mean, you have to be pretty crap to screw up a job application for which you are perfect, don’t you? I know it’s not helpful to think like that, but with the dentist thing dealt with and the thesis over, I need something on which to focus my irrational fears. Can’t undo all those years of tertiary programing education just like that, can we?
And it’s not like there are many of us thinking about dance as cultural practice, with an interest in dance history/theory (again, I’m both). And who’s talking about international cultural exchange? God, it’s like they read that paper on lindy exchanges and camps as un/national networks. Globalization? Well, more like localised globalisation, but what’s one letter? Embodied identities? Embodied cultures? National or Nationalised formations of said identities? Diaspora? Baby, I got your diaspora right here.
It’s scary. And so I can’t stop checking my email. This is one application I haven’t just forgotten about. It’s bothering me. And no amount of work or music-listening or sewing (three dresses in a weekend, folks – one house dress, two wearing-to-a-wedding options, only a couple of hems and one set of buttons to finish) can distract me.
I think I need some Big Apple time. Nothing distracts like the frustration of being a very slow learner.

24 sucks arse

I am up to episode 10 of the first season of 24 and I think I’m beginning to hate it. I can overlook the dumb story line. But now that the whole ‘real time’ thing has become more familiar than novelty (I was a bit interested in the way a meta story arc would develop over a season if we’re talking one hour at a time – a season one day long… though soap operas have been into that shit for years), I’ve had time to notice other things.
1. The black presidential candidate David Palmer. I’m sorry, but I’m just not accepting the idea that the US would have a black candidate as a realistic presidential hopeful. I certainly don’t dig the idea that he’d have so great a chance as to prompt a complex, expensive and utterly unrealistic assassination project. But perhaps there are other issues I haven’t yet met, seeing as how I’m only up to episode 10. But I’m afraid I’m just not buying it.
2. The gender stuff. Holy fuck. Rape, rape, rape. And then, most wonderfully, male vengeance for female victims. It’s beginning to make me insanely angry. I hated the Crow for this little narrative element. What is it with people writing media? Can’t they imagine a woman avenging her own rape? Can’t they imagine a woman who is not a victim, a potential victim or man-bitch-who-you-wouldn’t-fuck-but-can-kill?
While 24 no doubt thinks it’s being clever, it’s no I Spit On Your Grave – there are no ambiguous gender politics or opportunities for resistance here.
The rape stuff:
Let’s see. First we have Palmer’s daughter, who was raped seven years ago, but then avenged by her teen aged brother. Even more wonderfully, her mother Sherry colludes in covering up the brother’s vengeance. Sherry is increasingly painted as a deceitful, ambitious, nasty, emasculating harpy who doesn’t do as she’s told. There’s bad stuff in their family generally – a father with a secret (and inability to love his family properly, hence making him responsible for the daughter’s rape, the son’s having to avenge her and the mother’s having to take control of the family), a damaged daughter, an angry murdering son and a harpy mother. It’s not good. It’s certainly no Bartlet family.
Then we have the hero Jack Bauer’s daughter Kim’s friend who is apparently date raped, or at least drugged and drunked to the point where she’ll have sex in a furniture store (I’m not buying the ‘safe sex’ clue – the used condoms helping the mother figure out they were there. These are not condom boys). She ends up getting killed by someone the rest of the characters think is her father. Nice. No one punishes a whore like the patriarchy, right?
Then we have the daughter Kim’s ‘faked’ rape while held captive. The male abductor(who is now her ‘friend’) lies to his fellow guard, telling him he’s going to assault Kim, while really he uses this as a cover to sneak her out and help her escape (though she doesn’t escape).
This rape story then serves as a plot device, with the implication that this character’s story about having his way with Kim placed the idea in his fellow guard’s mind. This guard, apparently aroused by the daughter and mother’s terror as they’re on their knees with guns at their heads, awaiting execution, then decides to assault the daughter.
This is the bit that makes me fucking furious. The mother, Terri, volunteers to sub in for Kim and ‘allows’ the abductor to rape her. Though this is revealed as her using the chance to steal his mobile phone, she is later punished with some nasty cramps.
Meanwhile, Jack is rushing to save the ‘family’ – the vulnerable mother and daughter – save them from… whatever. And the point is repeatedly made in episode nine that all this is to preserve their family. Their nice little nuclear family.
This whole ‘mother subbing in for daughter as rape victim’ thing makes me so fucking angry. I just don’t see it serving any narrative purpose other than disturbing titillation. And the old ‘protect virgins’, ‘women who’ve had sex don’t mind being raped’ thing drives me wild.
I know that that the narrative relies on the mother and daughter needing rescuing (which sucks, but well, what can you do?), but why can’t they make Terri a dangerous captive whose actions mean that she is more likely to be killed, and so making Jack’s speedy completion of his mission all the more important?
2a. The gender stuff – general female characters.
Ok, so now I’m seeing some serious misogyny. What female characters do we have left?
1. Jamey. Asian/Latino (I’m not sure, though Latino is implied, and one of the dodgier characters, Tony, makes a muttered (and presumably racist) comment to her as she’s tied up in episode… eight or nine (I can’t remember which)). She’s a traitor, she ‘commits suicide’ (I haven’t seen enough to be sure of this – it looks like it was set up by Tony, who could be a baddy, but I don’t think he ends up being a baddy. I can’t actually predict this show, which tells me it’s either cutting edge, genre-bending plot action or just a bit messy. I suspect the latter), she’s a single mother. She has to die. Quite bloodily and nastily. She was a technical wizz as well, and of course, had to die.
2. Nina. Skinny, dark hair, the hero’s number 1. Is told by a nasty bloke that she used to have a good reputation, that she was ‘going somewhere’, but her affair with Jack has left her a low-status has-been lapdog for Jack. I’m not sure how or why, and while this male character is kind of unreliable, Nina apparently believes him.
Nina and Jack had an affair while Jack was estranged from his wife Terri. Nina is punished by Jack when he shoots her and shoves her down a hill (she’s not really dead or shot, but it’s suitably emblematic of their relationship). Nina is also continually jostling with the unreliable Tony for Jack’s attention/the number 1 position.
Nina sucks. She’s pathetic. She gets bossed around by Jack and Tony, refuses to think for herself and gets into deep shit.
3. Nina is pushed aside by the pale skinned black woman Alberta, Jack’s replacement as boss of the department. The pale skinned black woman thing is important – all the ‘black’ female characters are very pale skinned, while the black male characters are darker skinned. This shit is so fucking old school racist it’s like I’m at the Cotton Club watching the ‘tall, tanned and terrific’ show girls. Alberta is also painted as a bit of a ball-breaking vagina dentata. Lots of red lipstick and well-fitting suits, but nasty.
4. Lauren, the girl Jack kidnaps as a hostage.
I can’t even go into this one. But she’s the deceitful, morally bankrupt working class stooge character. And it makes me ANGRY because I just BET her weight (ie she’s not a super-skinny stick like all the other women) is deliberately intended as a signifier of her untrustworthiness.
5. Terri, Jack’s wife, Kim’s mother.
Dumb. It’s her fault she and Jack separated (she couldn’t deal with his post-traumatic stress syndrome after a nasty secret mission). She was sucked in by the pretend father of Kim’s friend. She couldn’t escape properly. She’s too skinny.
I really do think I hate 24. I will see out the season, though, to see if this stuff turns around. But I am really having trouble with the fact that the mother and daughter Terri and Kim are held captive in a barn (with bales of hay, no less), and there’s such a nasty undercurrent of sexual tension surrounding them. It really, really makes me angry that they’re just waiting there to be rescued.
There are no decent female characters in this show. It sucks.
In direct contrast, West Wing has interesting gender politics. We are up to episode five or six of season 2, and I had had some concerns about CJ’s character. She was the only character who doubted her abilities/appearance and her repeated stuff ups were given lots of plot time. But the most recent episode, The Lame Duck Congress deals with that in an interesting way. We see CJ deal with a difficult general – she nails his arse (though her decision is later countermanded by the president…which is a bit disturbing, but works within the context of the show’s premise – everyone has to kowtow to the president, not just chicks) and is super-clever and brilliant. I feel better about WW‘s handling of gender stuff because it’s more complex. It’s not cut and dried. I think I need to read and think more about it, because I haven’t made up my mind yet, but for now, it’s really interesting me and keeping me on board. It certainly kicks 24 arse.

she who dies with the most fabric wins

Bravery report
Ok, so I survived the dentist yesterday. The appointment took about 10 minutes, was absolutely painless and very effective. The dentist was all “Why didn’t you come in? There was no reason to suffer that pain for so long for such a little thing?” and I was all “I was scared,” and then he was “but I’m not scary, am I? You can talk to me” and then I went “it wasn’t rational. If it was rational I would have come in.”
But it didn’t hurt, he didn’t charge me and it doesn’t hurt any more. It was just a bit of sticky-out filling that was bumping out into my bite and needed filing down so it didn’t echo impact up into my jaw. So now it’s all nice and I am much braver about the dentist. He had to remind me: “But that last time was a root canal. That’s the most painful thing you can have done. Nothing else will hurt like that.” I can’t help these things.
I was pretty brave all up. I only teared up a bit when I told him I was scared. I don’t know what my problem is – I can get up in front of a few hundred people and do a bit of strutting and telling of shit. I can get up in front of zillions of people and dance like a fool (with authentic chicken steps and all*), do the worm and so on. I can deal with aggressive bullying blokes. I can teach groups of surly teenagers about the internet. I can run massive week-long dance events. I can play music to ensure a room full of picky dancers have a good time. But I can’t handle a bit of pain.
Sigh. Something to work on, I guess.
So I go back in a year for a regular check up. I’m sure I’ll be back to my pre-surprise-root-canal bravery by then.
Yoga update
On other fronts, I went to yoga again today. That’s two weeks since last time. I suck, because I love yoga, it makes me feel so good (though it’s hurting at the moment), it helps me avoid injuries and muscle strain in dance and it’s fun and social with lots of nice nannas. But I went, and that’s what counts.
Then I went to Sugardough and had a nice salad roll and a cup of tea followed by a nice brownie. Then I bought an olive bread thing (like a skinny french loaf, but not as skinny as those Italian bread stick things – help me out here, Galaxy, will you?) which I love eating toasted with fetta cheese on top.
Sewing news
Then I went to the-fabric-store-whose-name-we-cannot-speak and bought too much fabric. I will blog images if I can ever get them off The Squeeze’s camera (I have a backlog on there). I bought:

  • some black stuff to make a dress for The Squeeze’s sister’s wedding (two weeks away or something). It will have straps, a high waist (sort of empire-lined, but A-line skirt), a bodice that’s in three bits (I’ve forgotten the proper name, but it gives a more fitted look) and I’m going to make some little flower petals or some sort of shaped pieces to sew onto the front to add detail. I have a nice purple version I should also blog – I’m too fat for it these days, but it’s still one of my favourites. The shaped bits will be like petals (two pieces sewn together to give a bit of a 3D look) and are a black-on-purple paisley-esque print. Very tasteful.
  • some cream background craft fabric with nice green crocodiles printed. This will be a bodice for a dress with a high waist (again – it makes my body look longer), with the sirt made out of an interesting greeny patterned craft fabric. All crocodiles would have been fun, but perhaps a bit too unflattering. I like interesting prints, so I wouldn’t have minded the crocodiles all over. Just not the cream background. It will have the green as bias binding around the top of the bodice, and maybe the straps will be the green as well. I’m thinking a crocodile pocket as well. But I haven’t decided on the pattern yet. If I love this dress, it may be the wedding outfit. But it’s my first green dress ever and I usually don’t like any colour that’s not black, purple, pink, red, maroon or some other warm colour. I look shit in blues and greens and whites and yellows and oranges (because I am ‘olive’ coloured. Which means I look yellow when I don’t have a tan, which means I look a little jaundiced. I also have dark eyes and eyebrows)
  • two big pieces of white voile with black prints. One is a nice rose sort of pattern (like a line drawing – I know it has a real name but I’ve forgotten it). The other has a stronger black print and is William Morris-ish. I doubt I’ll ever make anything from them but I like looking them. And as we all know, she who dies with the most fabric wins.

Quilting news
Come on, summer, get over yourself. I have a new project to finish and it sucks to have to put the fan on so I can bear to work on it.
Remind me to post some pics of my latest (divine) job, will you? I am all about quilting using found or remnant fabrics, so most of my quilts are quite small, but also quite beautiful**. It’s nice to see vintage fabrics from which I made favourite dresses (which died ages ago) all matched up in one quilt.
Cinema review
Yesterday I saw Leonard Cohen: I’m Your Man and really enjoyed it. I’m a big fan of Cohen’s music and I really liked all the music in the film. It’s a doco, but a pretty arty farty one (not much useful knowledge in there), and it’s mostly footage of other people at a concert singing Cohen’s songs. Rufus Wainwright does a freaking amazing version of Everybody Knows which blew my brain and made the whole film worth the entry cost.
It does, however have fucking Bono and The Edge talking about Cohen and performing with him. I wanted to scream profanities at them. I fucking hate U2. I fucking hate Bono. He sucks arse. And can’t sing half as well as he thinks he can. And the Edge? Shit, I could play guitar better than him. It was so pathetic to see them playing with Cohen after people like the Wainwrights, the Handsome Family, Nick Cave and Jarvis Cocker doing these wonderful, interesting versions of Cohen’s music. And Bono is suck a wanker. I mean, Hallelujah is a wonderful song, but so freaking obvious.
But aside from thaose nasty little Irish moments, the film was neat. Go if you love Cohen, but don’t go if you don’t like him. It’d suck if you didn’t like him.
*the peck is a very Frankie Manning move. These days I am saying “what would Frankie do?” whenever I want to spice up a basic step. So I imagine I have a giant, 90-year-old-man arse, an interest in boobs and a really low centre of gravity. It really helps me get down off my toes and work it. Just like a dirty old man.
** not in a ‘man, you’re so talented! what a fabulous bit of patchwork/quilting!’ way, but in a ‘aren’t they nice fabrics?’ way.

one phrase. that’s 4 8s. or 16 bars. or about 4 seconds

Yesterday I spent an hour and fifteen minutes doing some dancing in dah house and managed to:

  • go over the Tranky Doo a few times
  • go over the Big Apple (FKP) bits I know
  • learn one phrase from the line bit of the BAFKP. That’s some difficult shit. But I am totally onto it. I should have this routine learnt in about… ten years. Or by the end of 2007

It’s still really difficult to learn the partner bits on my own. But I think I’m doing a pretty good job.
I need someone to help me style the Tranky Doo so I don’t look so honky. Or, as Sally kindly pointed out on Thursday night, so I don’t dance like my elbows are glued to my sides.
But the BAFKP taught me how to to do one of the difficult transitions in the Tranky Doo. Goddess Bless the internet.

Tommy Dorsey’s Yes Indeed!

I probably spent more on this baby than I should have (I have a $30 dollar limit for single CDs, including postage), but this is some sweet action.
Trev mentioned it eight days ago, I checked it out, did some late night impulse CD purchasing, and it arrived from somewhere foreign yesterday. How’s that for amazingly speedy gratification?
Ok so here’s what I think of it:
Some bits are a bit squawky. But that’s ok… well, I don’t like that squawk much because it sounds fucked at CBD, but it’s ok for this album. Some bits are a bit sweet, but, well, we can ignore that. Overall, there are at least six songs that I’d happily DJ, a couple that I’m very keen to DJ and some that probably need to be tested. There are also a good number of clappy/shouty songs, which is pleasing.
We’re looking at a spread of stuff from 1939 to 1945, reasonable sound quality (well, at home anyway) and some nice liner notes. Not amazing liner notes, but useful liner notes. It seems Sy Oliver is my man.
What tracks? Have a look down there below. But let’s look at some highlights.
What a coincidence – The Minor Goes Muggin’, as crapped on about here (and which I now realise I do like, have liked and have had a copy of for ages). Duke Ellington with Tommy Dorsey’s Orchestra in 1945.
Well, Git It!, made fairly famous with local dancers by the Mad Dog people in 2003 (check out that performance on youtube here). Mad Dog of course included a bunch of now-rockstar dancers. I had a couple of versions of this song, but this is the slower one and it’s decent quality. It’s less sweet than the version that’s on that Swingin’ in Hollywood, but not quite as good as the chunky fun version Mad Dog used.
I really like At the Fat Man’s (more clapping and talking about food) – nice, unscary tempo. Bit squawky, but fun. Fun lyrics, too.
There’s also a great version of Easy Does It (made famous by Basie and his versions are the ones I’ve heard mostly – kind of dull though goodish). This version chunks along and really makes me feel like dancing.
The version of Stomp It Off (a song originally written for Jimmie Lunceford by Sy Oliver and recorded in 1935) isn’t anywhere as good as the Lunceford versions I have. In fact, the Lunceford versions are ones I really adore – they make me dancing-crazy, clock in at about 190bpm and have a fun, upenergy, perky feel. This Dorsey one is a bit too sweet and kind of annoying. The tempo is a bit low as well, so it kind of drags. It doesn’t feel as ‘crisp’ either. But it’s a curiousity.
Swingin’ on Nothing is an old favourite, and I’m fond of it. It’s a trifle slow and draggy for me, but it’s a goody for newer/tireder dancers. Bit squawky, but you know, I can deal.
Well, All Right is fun, but I can’t decide if it’s the same song as the Lunceford Well Alright Then, which I’m fond of. There are vocals in this Dorsey one and they’re different tempos. I don’t think they’re the same. The Lunceford one is better, of course. But this is kind of fun. Reminds me of Calloway. But Calloway sung by a straighty-one-eighty chick.
There are songs like Opus #1 which everyone has a copy of and I don’t particularly like. It’s ok.
So What, Quiet Please and Swing High are fasty fun tracks (I prefer the last one, but there’s good shouting in Quiet Please). The rest are either a bit sweet, a bit slow or a bit dumb. Or I’ve just forgotten to talk about them.
But this is actually a good album if you want some good Dorsey action.
Lonesome Road, Part 1 Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra 1939 Yes, Indeed! 2:36
Lonesome Road, Part 2 Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra 129 1939 Yes, Indeed! 2:19
Well, All Right Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra 150 1939 Yes, Indeed! 3:13
Night In Sudan Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra 139 1939 Yes, Indeed! 3:14
Stomp It Off Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra 160 1939 Yes, Indeed! 3:46
Easy Does It Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra 155 1939 Yes, Indeed! 3:15
Quiet Please Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra 292 1940 Yes, Indeed! 2:47
So What Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra 301 1940 Yes, Indeed! 2:43
Swing High Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra 251 1941 Yes, Indeed! 2:49
Swanee River Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra 111 1941 Yes, Indeed! 3:14
Deep River Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra 277 1941 Yes, Indeed! 3:59
Yes, Indeed! Sy Oliver and Jo Stafford with Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra 134 1941 Yes, Indeed! 3:30
Loose Lid Special Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra 114 1941 Yes, Indeed! 2:47
Swingin’ On Nothin’ Sy Oliver and Jo Stafford with Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra 126 1941 Yes, Indeed! 3:17
Hallelujah Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra 277 1941 Yes, Indeed! 3:04
Moonlight On The Ganges Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra 136 1942 Yes, Indeed! 2:55
Well, Git It! Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra 189 1942 Yes, Indeed! 3:03
Mandy, Make Up Your Mind Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra 152 1942 Yes, Indeed! 2:59
Opus #1 Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra 170 1944 Yes, Indeed! 2:55
Chloe Edythe Wright with Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra 1945 Yes, Indeed! 3:14
At The Fat Man’s Charlie Shavers with Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra 151 1945 Yes, Indeed! 3:11
The Minor Goes Muggin’ Duke Ellington with Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra 177 1945 Yes, Indeed! 3:01

i have yet to put on clothes

It’s currently 38 degrees, the house is all dark because the curtains and blinds are trying to keep the heat out, and The Squeeze is still asleep – I think he’s just not recognising today as a proper day at all. He went to bed at about 1 or perhaps a bit earlier and has just slept right through. I did get him up to change beds earlier because he was drowning in his own sweat in the other bedroom. In fact, I think I need to go wake him up to force some water into him.
I, however, have done some fiddling on the internet, mucked about with an article I have to get back to the journal eds by next week, wished I had access to a couple of nice DJing books (they’re not even in the library so I can’t go check em out this afternoon), listened to a bunch of music and thought about buying this, worked out it would cost me $189 or so, revised my stance. Reviewed the bands/band leaders on the set (the Chocolate Dandies, Henry Red Allen, Mildred Bailey, Fletcher Henderson, Teddy Wilson, Cab Calloway, Lionel Hampton, Billie Holiday) and decided that I might just have to have this after all. It’s seven CDs for $189. That’s twenty or so dollars each. For awesomely re-mastered loveliness. Still, there is the whole being poor thing.
Yesterday I didn’t do a very good job of coping with the heat. Usually I’m pretty tough, but yesterday I ended up having to go home and lie down. After quite a few hours at the pub in the air-con. But riding about in 38 degrees is a bit rough. Especially if you spent the night before dancing and sweating like a fool.
It’s still hot. The house is hot. I’m sitting in front of a fan and trying not to let my metabolism respond to the exciting music I’m listening to – no elevated pulses!
I think I’m going back to lie on the bed and read some more.
I have yet to put on clothes today.