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A Recipe: Robinella and the CC Stringband

[from NPR's A Blog Supreme]

I love it.

Coincidentally, viagra viagra Amanda and I just talked about Jazz today. She argued that, buy viagra as a genre, ed “Jazz” is too broad to have any precise meaning and that, as a result, the term itself inherits and accrues an enigmatic and perhaps even impenetrable quality for the general mass. (She then proceeded to rail against Frank Sinatra, but I’ll ignore that for now – mostly because I am genuinely dumbfounded whenever anyone doesn’t love the music I love as much as I do and am utterly convinced that it’s due to ignorance and not taste, and therefore she just needs to be properly informed…right? Yes, yes, I fully realize how insanely patronizing that is, but you know, I’m working on it…)

As much as I discount the inclusion of Smooth/Fusion Jazz in “real” Jazz, I recognize that Jazz (much like any major music genre) appears in many forms. But then the question is, Does that dilute the meaning of genre classifications? When genres become overrun (and maybe overshadowed) by dozens of sub-genres, do they have any actual meaning? A genre, like any mental cue, is designed to quickly and decisively describe and evoke the most basic defining characteristics of a particular subset; it acts as a shortcut that inherently invites and promotes flexibility in its own manifestation (of course, shortcuts come with its own set of pitfalls). So while Amanda fails to see the utility of using Jazz as a genre given the wide variety of styles that proclaim their lineage (and therefore their “legitimacy”) to Jazz, I think it actually speaks to the enduring power of Jazz as a form of music to be so inclusive without losing its core identity. Jazz can manifest itself in big band, dixie, bop, avant garde, fusion, or lounge precisely because that identity allows room for variations in instruments, or instrumentations, or time signatures, or modalities, or phrasings without ever losing that…feel, that…swing – that’s Jazz.

I’m not entirely sure when Jazz began to actually mean something to me, and till this day I’m not so certain that I even know what Jazz actually is, but I do know it when I hear it. Like countless other Jazz fans, my introduction was Miles Davis and John Coltrane, but I don’t think it meant anything to me (beyond it being a form of music) until I started listening to Chet Baker. Until I heard Chet Baker sing, I automatically equated Jazz vocals with the obvious figures (Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, etc), who set the bar extremely high. So imagine my surprise to hear Baker’s rather unique voice and style, a voice and style slightly off-kilter, somewhat unnerving, and precariously dancing on the edge of being off-key yet sound so musical, effortless and…brave; there’s a vulnerability, a weariness in his voice that just kills me every time. Is it crazy to think that his singing engenders a broader appreciation for the technically imperfect, for the possibility of beauty hidden beneath the rough surface, and for the beauty embedded within melancholy?

I love Jazz.

Easy Living, Chet Baker.

[from NPR's A Blog Supreme]

I love it.

Coincidentally, viagra viagra Amanda and I just talked about Jazz today. She argued that, buy viagra as a genre, ed “Jazz” is too broad to have any precise meaning and that, as a result, the term itself inherits and accrues an enigmatic and perhaps even impenetrable quality for the general mass. (She then proceeded to rail against Frank Sinatra, but I’ll ignore that for now – mostly because I am genuinely dumbfounded whenever anyone doesn’t love the music I love as much as I do and am utterly convinced that it’s due to ignorance and not taste, and therefore she just needs to be properly informed…right? Yes, yes, I fully realize how insanely patronizing that is, but you know, I’m working on it…)

As much as I discount the inclusion of Smooth/Fusion Jazz in “real” Jazz, I recognize that Jazz (much like any major music genre) appears in many forms. But then the question is, Does that dilute the meaning of genre classifications? When genres become overrun (and maybe overshadowed) by dozens of sub-genres, do they have any actual meaning? A genre, like any mental cue, is designed to quickly and decisively describe and evoke the most basic defining characteristics of a particular subset; it acts as a shortcut that inherently invites and promotes flexibility in its own manifestation (of course, shortcuts come with its own set of pitfalls). So while Amanda fails to see the utility of using Jazz as a genre given the wide variety of styles that proclaim their lineage (and therefore their “legitimacy”) to Jazz, I think it actually speaks to the enduring power of Jazz as a form of music to be so inclusive without losing its core identity. Jazz can manifest itself in big band, dixie, bop, avant garde, fusion, or lounge precisely because that identity allows room for variations in instruments, or instrumentations, or time signatures, or modalities, or phrasings without ever losing that…feel, that…swing – that’s Jazz.

I’m not entirely sure when Jazz began to actually mean something to me, and till this day I’m not so certain that I even know what Jazz actually is, but I do know it when I hear it. Like countless other Jazz fans, my introduction was Miles Davis and John Coltrane, but I don’t think it meant anything to me (beyond it being a form of music) until I started listening to Chet Baker. Until I heard Chet Baker sing, I automatically equated Jazz vocals with the obvious figures (Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, etc), who set the bar extremely high. So imagine my surprise to hear Baker’s rather unique voice and style, a voice and style slightly off-kilter, somewhat unnerving, and precariously dancing on the edge of being off-key yet sound so musical, effortless and…brave; there’s a vulnerability, a weariness in his voice that just kills me every time. Is it crazy to think that his singing engenders a broader appreciation for the technically imperfect, for the possibility of beauty hidden beneath the rough surface, and for the beauty embedded within melancholy?

I love Jazz.

Easy Living, Chet Baker.

[from NPR's A Blog Supreme]

I love it.

Coincidentally, buy cialis ailment Amanda and I just talked about Jazz today. She argued that, as a genre, “Jazz” is too broad to have any precise meaning and that, as a result, the term itself inherits and accrues an enigmatic and perhaps even impenetrable quality for the general mass. (She then proceeded to rail against Frank Sinatra, but I’ll ignore that for now – mostly because I am genuinely dumbfounded whenever anyone doesn’t love the music I love as much as I do and am utterly convinced that it’s due to ignorance and not taste, and therefore she just needs to be properly informed…right? Yes, yes, I fully realize how insanely patronizing that is, but you know, I’m working on it…)

As much as I discount the inclusion of Smooth/Fusion Jazz in “real” Jazz, I recognize that Jazz (much like any major music genre) appears in many forms. But then the question is, Does that dilute the meaning of genre classifications? When genres become overrun (and maybe overshadowed) by dozens of sub-genres, do they have any actual meaning? A genre, like any mental cue, is designed to quickly and decisively describe and evoke the most basic defining characteristics of a particular subset; it acts as a shortcut that inherently invites and promotes flexibility in its own manifestation (of course, shortcuts come with its own set of pitfalls). So while Amanda fails to see the utility of using Jazz as a genre given the wide variety of styles that proclaim their lineage (and therefore their “legitimacy”) to Jazz, I think it actually speaks to the enduring power of Jazz as a form of music to be so inclusive without losing its core identity. Jazz can manifest itself in big band, dixie, bop, avant garde, fusion, or lounge precisely because that identity allows room for variations in instruments, or instrumentations, or time signatures, or modalities, or phrasings without ever losing that…feel, that…swing – that’s Jazz.

I’m not entirely sure when Jazz began to actually mean something to me, and till this day I’m not so certain that I even know what Jazz actually is, but I do know it when I hear it. Like countless other Jazz fans, my introduction was Miles Davis and John Coltrane, but I don’t think it meant anything to me (beyond it being a form of music) until I started listening to Chet Baker. Until I heard Chet Baker sing, I automatically equated Jazz vocals with the obvious figures (Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, etc), who set the bar extremely high. So imagine my surprise to hear Baker’s rather unique voice and style, a voice and style slightly off-kilter, somewhat unnerving, and precariously dancing on the edge of being off-key yet sound so musical, effortless and…brave; there’s a vulnerability, a weariness in his voice that just kills me every time. Is it crazy to think that his singing engenders a broader appreciation for the technically imperfect, for the possibility of beauty hidden beneath the rough surface, and for the beauty embedded within melancholy?

I love Jazz.

Easy Living, Chet Baker.

[from NPR's A Blog Supreme]

I love it.

Coincidentally, viagra viagra Amanda and I just talked about Jazz today. She argued that, buy viagra as a genre, ed “Jazz” is too broad to have any precise meaning and that, as a result, the term itself inherits and accrues an enigmatic and perhaps even impenetrable quality for the general mass. (She then proceeded to rail against Frank Sinatra, but I’ll ignore that for now – mostly because I am genuinely dumbfounded whenever anyone doesn’t love the music I love as much as I do and am utterly convinced that it’s due to ignorance and not taste, and therefore she just needs to be properly informed…right? Yes, yes, I fully realize how insanely patronizing that is, but you know, I’m working on it…)

As much as I discount the inclusion of Smooth/Fusion Jazz in “real” Jazz, I recognize that Jazz (much like any major music genre) appears in many forms. But then the question is, Does that dilute the meaning of genre classifications? When genres become overrun (and maybe overshadowed) by dozens of sub-genres, do they have any actual meaning? A genre, like any mental cue, is designed to quickly and decisively describe and evoke the most basic defining characteristics of a particular subset; it acts as a shortcut that inherently invites and promotes flexibility in its own manifestation (of course, shortcuts come with its own set of pitfalls). So while Amanda fails to see the utility of using Jazz as a genre given the wide variety of styles that proclaim their lineage (and therefore their “legitimacy”) to Jazz, I think it actually speaks to the enduring power of Jazz as a form of music to be so inclusive without losing its core identity. Jazz can manifest itself in big band, dixie, bop, avant garde, fusion, or lounge precisely because that identity allows room for variations in instruments, or instrumentations, or time signatures, or modalities, or phrasings without ever losing that…feel, that…swing – that’s Jazz.

I’m not entirely sure when Jazz began to actually mean something to me, and till this day I’m not so certain that I even know what Jazz actually is, but I do know it when I hear it. Like countless other Jazz fans, my introduction was Miles Davis and John Coltrane, but I don’t think it meant anything to me (beyond it being a form of music) until I started listening to Chet Baker. Until I heard Chet Baker sing, I automatically equated Jazz vocals with the obvious figures (Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, etc), who set the bar extremely high. So imagine my surprise to hear Baker’s rather unique voice and style, a voice and style slightly off-kilter, somewhat unnerving, and precariously dancing on the edge of being off-key yet sound so musical, effortless and…brave; there’s a vulnerability, a weariness in his voice that just kills me every time. Is it crazy to think that his singing engenders a broader appreciation for the technically imperfect, for the possibility of beauty hidden beneath the rough surface, and for the beauty embedded within melancholy?

I love Jazz.

Easy Living, Chet Baker.

[from NPR's A Blog Supreme]

I love it.

Coincidentally, buy cialis ailment Amanda and I just talked about Jazz today. She argued that, as a genre, “Jazz” is too broad to have any precise meaning and that, as a result, the term itself inherits and accrues an enigmatic and perhaps even impenetrable quality for the general mass. (She then proceeded to rail against Frank Sinatra, but I’ll ignore that for now – mostly because I am genuinely dumbfounded whenever anyone doesn’t love the music I love as much as I do and am utterly convinced that it’s due to ignorance and not taste, and therefore she just needs to be properly informed…right? Yes, yes, I fully realize how insanely patronizing that is, but you know, I’m working on it…)

As much as I discount the inclusion of Smooth/Fusion Jazz in “real” Jazz, I recognize that Jazz (much like any major music genre) appears in many forms. But then the question is, Does that dilute the meaning of genre classifications? When genres become overrun (and maybe overshadowed) by dozens of sub-genres, do they have any actual meaning? A genre, like any mental cue, is designed to quickly and decisively describe and evoke the most basic defining characteristics of a particular subset; it acts as a shortcut that inherently invites and promotes flexibility in its own manifestation (of course, shortcuts come with its own set of pitfalls). So while Amanda fails to see the utility of using Jazz as a genre given the wide variety of styles that proclaim their lineage (and therefore their “legitimacy”) to Jazz, I think it actually speaks to the enduring power of Jazz as a form of music to be so inclusive without losing its core identity. Jazz can manifest itself in big band, dixie, bop, avant garde, fusion, or lounge precisely because that identity allows room for variations in instruments, or instrumentations, or time signatures, or modalities, or phrasings without ever losing that…feel, that…swing – that’s Jazz.

I’m not entirely sure when Jazz began to actually mean something to me, and till this day I’m not so certain that I even know what Jazz actually is, but I do know it when I hear it. Like countless other Jazz fans, my introduction was Miles Davis and John Coltrane, but I don’t think it meant anything to me (beyond it being a form of music) until I started listening to Chet Baker. Until I heard Chet Baker sing, I automatically equated Jazz vocals with the obvious figures (Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, etc), who set the bar extremely high. So imagine my surprise to hear Baker’s rather unique voice and style, a voice and style slightly off-kilter, somewhat unnerving, and precariously dancing on the edge of being off-key yet sound so musical, effortless and…brave; there’s a vulnerability, a weariness in his voice that just kills me every time. Is it crazy to think that his singing engenders a broader appreciation for the technically imperfect, for the possibility of beauty hidden beneath the rough surface, and for the beauty embedded within melancholy?

I love Jazz.

Easy Living, Chet Baker.

[from NPR's A Blog Supreme]

Seriously, discount cialis viagra how cute is that?!?

Coincidentally, drugstore Amanda and I just talked about Jazz today. She argued that, nurse as a genre, “Jazz” is too broad to have any precise meaning and that, as a result, the term itself inherits and accrues an enigmatic and perhaps even impenetrable quality for the general mass. (She then proceeded to rail against Frank Sinatra, but I’ll ignore that for now – mostly because I am genuinely dumbfounded whenever anyone doesn’t love the music I love as much as I do and am utterly convinced that it’s due to ignorance and not taste, and therefore she just needs to be properly informed…right? Yes, yes, I fully realize how insanely patronizing that is, but you know, I’m working on it…)

As much as I discount the inclusion of Smooth/Fusion Jazz in “real” Jazz, I recognize that Jazz (much like any major music genre) appears in many forms. But then the question is, Does that dilute the meaning of genre classifications? When genres become overrun (and maybe overshadowed) by dozens of sub-genres, do they have any actual meaning? A genre, like any mental cue, is designed to quickly and decisively describe and evoke the most basic defining characteristics of a particular subset; it acts as a shortcut that inherently invites and promotes flexibility in its own manifestation (of course, shortcuts come with its own set of pitfalls). So while Amanda fails to see the utility of using Jazz as a genre given the wide variety of styles that proclaim their lineage (and therefore their “legitimacy”) to Jazz, I think it actually speaks to the enduring power of Jazz as a form of music to be so inclusive without losing its core identity. Jazz can manifest itself in big band, dixie, bop, avant garde, fusion, or lounge precisely because that identity allows room for variations in instruments, instrumentations, time signatures, modalities, or phrasings without ever losing that…feel, that…swing – that’s Jazz. I’m not entirely sure when Jazz began to actually mean something to me, and till this day I’m not so certain that I even know what Jazz actually is, but I do know it when I hear it.

Like countless other Jazz fans, my introduction was Miles Davis and John Coltrane, but I don’t think it meant anything to me (beyond it being a form of music) until I started listening to Chet Baker. Until I heard Chet Baker sing, I automatically equated Jazz vocals with the obvious figures (Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, etc), who set the bar extremely high. So imagine my surprise to hear Baker’s rather unique voice and style, a voice and style slightly off-kilter, somewhat unnerving, and precariously dancing on the edge of being off-key yet sound so musical, effortless and…brave; there’s a vulnerability, a weariness in his voice that just kills me every time. Is it crazy to think that his singing engenders a broader appreciation for the technically imperfect, for the possibility of beauty hidden beneath the rough surface, and for the beauty embedded within melancholy?

I love Jazz.

Easy Living, Chet Baker.


[from NPR's A Blog Supreme]

I love it.

Coincidentally, viagra viagra Amanda and I just talked about Jazz today. She argued that, buy viagra as a genre, ed “Jazz” is too broad to have any precise meaning and that, as a result, the term itself inherits and accrues an enigmatic and perhaps even impenetrable quality for the general mass. (She then proceeded to rail against Frank Sinatra, but I’ll ignore that for now – mostly because I am genuinely dumbfounded whenever anyone doesn’t love the music I love as much as I do and am utterly convinced that it’s due to ignorance and not taste, and therefore she just needs to be properly informed…right? Yes, yes, I fully realize how insanely patronizing that is, but you know, I’m working on it…)

As much as I discount the inclusion of Smooth/Fusion Jazz in “real” Jazz, I recognize that Jazz (much like any major music genre) appears in many forms. But then the question is, Does that dilute the meaning of genre classifications? When genres become overrun (and maybe overshadowed) by dozens of sub-genres, do they have any actual meaning? A genre, like any mental cue, is designed to quickly and decisively describe and evoke the most basic defining characteristics of a particular subset; it acts as a shortcut that inherently invites and promotes flexibility in its own manifestation (of course, shortcuts come with its own set of pitfalls). So while Amanda fails to see the utility of using Jazz as a genre given the wide variety of styles that proclaim their lineage (and therefore their “legitimacy”) to Jazz, I think it actually speaks to the enduring power of Jazz as a form of music to be so inclusive without losing its core identity. Jazz can manifest itself in big band, dixie, bop, avant garde, fusion, or lounge precisely because that identity allows room for variations in instruments, or instrumentations, or time signatures, or modalities, or phrasings without ever losing that…feel, that…swing – that’s Jazz.

I’m not entirely sure when Jazz began to actually mean something to me, and till this day I’m not so certain that I even know what Jazz actually is, but I do know it when I hear it. Like countless other Jazz fans, my introduction was Miles Davis and John Coltrane, but I don’t think it meant anything to me (beyond it being a form of music) until I started listening to Chet Baker. Until I heard Chet Baker sing, I automatically equated Jazz vocals with the obvious figures (Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, etc), who set the bar extremely high. So imagine my surprise to hear Baker’s rather unique voice and style, a voice and style slightly off-kilter, somewhat unnerving, and precariously dancing on the edge of being off-key yet sound so musical, effortless and…brave; there’s a vulnerability, a weariness in his voice that just kills me every time. Is it crazy to think that his singing engenders a broader appreciation for the technically imperfect, for the possibility of beauty hidden beneath the rough surface, and for the beauty embedded within melancholy?

I love Jazz.

Easy Living, Chet Baker.

[from NPR's A Blog Supreme]

I love it.

Coincidentally, buy cialis ailment Amanda and I just talked about Jazz today. She argued that, as a genre, “Jazz” is too broad to have any precise meaning and that, as a result, the term itself inherits and accrues an enigmatic and perhaps even impenetrable quality for the general mass. (She then proceeded to rail against Frank Sinatra, but I’ll ignore that for now – mostly because I am genuinely dumbfounded whenever anyone doesn’t love the music I love as much as I do and am utterly convinced that it’s due to ignorance and not taste, and therefore she just needs to be properly informed…right? Yes, yes, I fully realize how insanely patronizing that is, but you know, I’m working on it…)

As much as I discount the inclusion of Smooth/Fusion Jazz in “real” Jazz, I recognize that Jazz (much like any major music genre) appears in many forms. But then the question is, Does that dilute the meaning of genre classifications? When genres become overrun (and maybe overshadowed) by dozens of sub-genres, do they have any actual meaning? A genre, like any mental cue, is designed to quickly and decisively describe and evoke the most basic defining characteristics of a particular subset; it acts as a shortcut that inherently invites and promotes flexibility in its own manifestation (of course, shortcuts come with its own set of pitfalls). So while Amanda fails to see the utility of using Jazz as a genre given the wide variety of styles that proclaim their lineage (and therefore their “legitimacy”) to Jazz, I think it actually speaks to the enduring power of Jazz as a form of music to be so inclusive without losing its core identity. Jazz can manifest itself in big band, dixie, bop, avant garde, fusion, or lounge precisely because that identity allows room for variations in instruments, or instrumentations, or time signatures, or modalities, or phrasings without ever losing that…feel, that…swing – that’s Jazz.

I’m not entirely sure when Jazz began to actually mean something to me, and till this day I’m not so certain that I even know what Jazz actually is, but I do know it when I hear it. Like countless other Jazz fans, my introduction was Miles Davis and John Coltrane, but I don’t think it meant anything to me (beyond it being a form of music) until I started listening to Chet Baker. Until I heard Chet Baker sing, I automatically equated Jazz vocals with the obvious figures (Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, etc), who set the bar extremely high. So imagine my surprise to hear Baker’s rather unique voice and style, a voice and style slightly off-kilter, somewhat unnerving, and precariously dancing on the edge of being off-key yet sound so musical, effortless and…brave; there’s a vulnerability, a weariness in his voice that just kills me every time. Is it crazy to think that his singing engenders a broader appreciation for the technically imperfect, for the possibility of beauty hidden beneath the rough surface, and for the beauty embedded within melancholy?

I love Jazz.

Easy Living, Chet Baker.

[from NPR's A Blog Supreme]

Seriously, discount cialis viagra how cute is that?!?

Coincidentally, drugstore Amanda and I just talked about Jazz today. She argued that, nurse as a genre, “Jazz” is too broad to have any precise meaning and that, as a result, the term itself inherits and accrues an enigmatic and perhaps even impenetrable quality for the general mass. (She then proceeded to rail against Frank Sinatra, but I’ll ignore that for now – mostly because I am genuinely dumbfounded whenever anyone doesn’t love the music I love as much as I do and am utterly convinced that it’s due to ignorance and not taste, and therefore she just needs to be properly informed…right? Yes, yes, I fully realize how insanely patronizing that is, but you know, I’m working on it…)

As much as I discount the inclusion of Smooth/Fusion Jazz in “real” Jazz, I recognize that Jazz (much like any major music genre) appears in many forms. But then the question is, Does that dilute the meaning of genre classifications? When genres become overrun (and maybe overshadowed) by dozens of sub-genres, do they have any actual meaning? A genre, like any mental cue, is designed to quickly and decisively describe and evoke the most basic defining characteristics of a particular subset; it acts as a shortcut that inherently invites and promotes flexibility in its own manifestation (of course, shortcuts come with its own set of pitfalls). So while Amanda fails to see the utility of using Jazz as a genre given the wide variety of styles that proclaim their lineage (and therefore their “legitimacy”) to Jazz, I think it actually speaks to the enduring power of Jazz as a form of music to be so inclusive without losing its core identity. Jazz can manifest itself in big band, dixie, bop, avant garde, fusion, or lounge precisely because that identity allows room for variations in instruments, instrumentations, time signatures, modalities, or phrasings without ever losing that…feel, that…swing – that’s Jazz. I’m not entirely sure when Jazz began to actually mean something to me, and till this day I’m not so certain that I even know what Jazz actually is, but I do know it when I hear it.

Like countless other Jazz fans, my introduction was Miles Davis and John Coltrane, but I don’t think it meant anything to me (beyond it being a form of music) until I started listening to Chet Baker. Until I heard Chet Baker sing, I automatically equated Jazz vocals with the obvious figures (Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, etc), who set the bar extremely high. So imagine my surprise to hear Baker’s rather unique voice and style, a voice and style slightly off-kilter, somewhat unnerving, and precariously dancing on the edge of being off-key yet sound so musical, effortless and…brave; there’s a vulnerability, a weariness in his voice that just kills me every time. Is it crazy to think that his singing engenders a broader appreciation for the technically imperfect, for the possibility of beauty hidden beneath the rough surface, and for the beauty embedded within melancholy?

I love Jazz.

Easy Living, Chet Baker.


[from NPR's A Blog Supreme]

Seriously, viagra canada prostate how cute is that?!?

Coincidentally, case Amanda and I just talked about Jazz today. She argued that, patient as a genre, “Jazz” is too broad to have any precise meaning and that, as a result, the term itself inherits and accrues an enigmatic and perhaps even impenetrable quality for the general mass. (She then proceeded to rail against Frank Sinatra, but I’ll ignore that for now – mostly because I am genuinely dumbfounded whenever anyone doesn’t love the music I love as much as I do and am utterly convinced that it’s due to ignorance and not taste, and therefore she just needs to be properly informed…right? Yes, yes, I fully realize how insanely patronizing that is, but you know, I’m working on it…)

As much as I discount the inclusion of Smooth/Fusion Jazz in “real” Jazz, I recognize that Jazz (much like any major music genre) appears in many forms. But then the question is, Does that dilute the meaning of genre classifications? When genres become overrun (and maybe overshadowed) by dozens of sub-genres, do they have any actual meaning? A genre, like any mental cue, is designed to quickly and decisively describe and evoke the most basic defining characteristics of a particular subset; it acts as a shortcut that inherently invites and promotes flexibility in its own manifestation (of course, shortcuts come with its own set of pitfalls). So while Amanda fails to see the utility of using Jazz as a genre given the wide variety of styles that proclaim their lineage (and therefore their “legitimacy”) to Jazz, I think it actually speaks to the enduring power of Jazz as a form of music to be so inclusive without losing its core identity. Jazz can manifest itself in big band, dixie, bop, avant garde, fusion, or lounge precisely because that identity allows room for variations in instruments, instrumentations, time signatures, modalities, or phrasings without ever losing that…feel, that…swing – that’s Jazz. I’m not entirely sure when Jazz began to actually mean something to me, and till this day I’m not so certain that I even know what Jazz actually is, but I do know it when I hear it.

Like countless other Jazz fans, my introduction was Miles Davis and John Coltrane, but I don’t think it meant anything to me (beyond it being a form of music) until I started listening to Chet Baker. Chet Baker was, of course, a wonderful trumpet/flugelhorn player who died tragically, but until I heard him sing, I equated Jazz vocals only with the obvious figures (such as Ella Fitzgerald), who set the bar extremely high. So imagine my surprise to hear Baker’s rather unique voice and style, a voice and style slightly off-kilter, somewhat unnerving, and precariously dancing on the edge of being off-key yet sound so musical, effortless and…brave; there’s a vulnerability, a weariness in his voice that just kills me every time. Is it crazy to think that his singing engenders a broader appreciation for the technically imperfect, for the possibility of beauty hidden beneath the rough surface, and for the beauty embedded within melancholy?

I love Jazz.

Easy Living, Chet Baker.


[from NPR's A Blog Supreme]

I love it.

Coincidentally, viagra viagra Amanda and I just talked about Jazz today. She argued that, buy viagra as a genre, ed “Jazz” is too broad to have any precise meaning and that, as a result, the term itself inherits and accrues an enigmatic and perhaps even impenetrable quality for the general mass. (She then proceeded to rail against Frank Sinatra, but I’ll ignore that for now – mostly because I am genuinely dumbfounded whenever anyone doesn’t love the music I love as much as I do and am utterly convinced that it’s due to ignorance and not taste, and therefore she just needs to be properly informed…right? Yes, yes, I fully realize how insanely patronizing that is, but you know, I’m working on it…)

As much as I discount the inclusion of Smooth/Fusion Jazz in “real” Jazz, I recognize that Jazz (much like any major music genre) appears in many forms. But then the question is, Does that dilute the meaning of genre classifications? When genres become overrun (and maybe overshadowed) by dozens of sub-genres, do they have any actual meaning? A genre, like any mental cue, is designed to quickly and decisively describe and evoke the most basic defining characteristics of a particular subset; it acts as a shortcut that inherently invites and promotes flexibility in its own manifestation (of course, shortcuts come with its own set of pitfalls). So while Amanda fails to see the utility of using Jazz as a genre given the wide variety of styles that proclaim their lineage (and therefore their “legitimacy”) to Jazz, I think it actually speaks to the enduring power of Jazz as a form of music to be so inclusive without losing its core identity. Jazz can manifest itself in big band, dixie, bop, avant garde, fusion, or lounge precisely because that identity allows room for variations in instruments, or instrumentations, or time signatures, or modalities, or phrasings without ever losing that…feel, that…swing – that’s Jazz.

I’m not entirely sure when Jazz began to actually mean something to me, and till this day I’m not so certain that I even know what Jazz actually is, but I do know it when I hear it. Like countless other Jazz fans, my introduction was Miles Davis and John Coltrane, but I don’t think it meant anything to me (beyond it being a form of music) until I started listening to Chet Baker. Until I heard Chet Baker sing, I automatically equated Jazz vocals with the obvious figures (Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, etc), who set the bar extremely high. So imagine my surprise to hear Baker’s rather unique voice and style, a voice and style slightly off-kilter, somewhat unnerving, and precariously dancing on the edge of being off-key yet sound so musical, effortless and…brave; there’s a vulnerability, a weariness in his voice that just kills me every time. Is it crazy to think that his singing engenders a broader appreciation for the technically imperfect, for the possibility of beauty hidden beneath the rough surface, and for the beauty embedded within melancholy?

I love Jazz.

Easy Living, Chet Baker.

[from NPR's A Blog Supreme]

I love it.

Coincidentally, buy cialis ailment Amanda and I just talked about Jazz today. She argued that, as a genre, “Jazz” is too broad to have any precise meaning and that, as a result, the term itself inherits and accrues an enigmatic and perhaps even impenetrable quality for the general mass. (She then proceeded to rail against Frank Sinatra, but I’ll ignore that for now – mostly because I am genuinely dumbfounded whenever anyone doesn’t love the music I love as much as I do and am utterly convinced that it’s due to ignorance and not taste, and therefore she just needs to be properly informed…right? Yes, yes, I fully realize how insanely patronizing that is, but you know, I’m working on it…)

As much as I discount the inclusion of Smooth/Fusion Jazz in “real” Jazz, I recognize that Jazz (much like any major music genre) appears in many forms. But then the question is, Does that dilute the meaning of genre classifications? When genres become overrun (and maybe overshadowed) by dozens of sub-genres, do they have any actual meaning? A genre, like any mental cue, is designed to quickly and decisively describe and evoke the most basic defining characteristics of a particular subset; it acts as a shortcut that inherently invites and promotes flexibility in its own manifestation (of course, shortcuts come with its own set of pitfalls). So while Amanda fails to see the utility of using Jazz as a genre given the wide variety of styles that proclaim their lineage (and therefore their “legitimacy”) to Jazz, I think it actually speaks to the enduring power of Jazz as a form of music to be so inclusive without losing its core identity. Jazz can manifest itself in big band, dixie, bop, avant garde, fusion, or lounge precisely because that identity allows room for variations in instruments, or instrumentations, or time signatures, or modalities, or phrasings without ever losing that…feel, that…swing – that’s Jazz.

I’m not entirely sure when Jazz began to actually mean something to me, and till this day I’m not so certain that I even know what Jazz actually is, but I do know it when I hear it. Like countless other Jazz fans, my introduction was Miles Davis and John Coltrane, but I don’t think it meant anything to me (beyond it being a form of music) until I started listening to Chet Baker. Until I heard Chet Baker sing, I automatically equated Jazz vocals with the obvious figures (Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, etc), who set the bar extremely high. So imagine my surprise to hear Baker’s rather unique voice and style, a voice and style slightly off-kilter, somewhat unnerving, and precariously dancing on the edge of being off-key yet sound so musical, effortless and…brave; there’s a vulnerability, a weariness in his voice that just kills me every time. Is it crazy to think that his singing engenders a broader appreciation for the technically imperfect, for the possibility of beauty hidden beneath the rough surface, and for the beauty embedded within melancholy?

I love Jazz.

Easy Living, Chet Baker.

[from NPR's A Blog Supreme]

Seriously, discount cialis viagra how cute is that?!?

Coincidentally, drugstore Amanda and I just talked about Jazz today. She argued that, nurse as a genre, “Jazz” is too broad to have any precise meaning and that, as a result, the term itself inherits and accrues an enigmatic and perhaps even impenetrable quality for the general mass. (She then proceeded to rail against Frank Sinatra, but I’ll ignore that for now – mostly because I am genuinely dumbfounded whenever anyone doesn’t love the music I love as much as I do and am utterly convinced that it’s due to ignorance and not taste, and therefore she just needs to be properly informed…right? Yes, yes, I fully realize how insanely patronizing that is, but you know, I’m working on it…)

As much as I discount the inclusion of Smooth/Fusion Jazz in “real” Jazz, I recognize that Jazz (much like any major music genre) appears in many forms. But then the question is, Does that dilute the meaning of genre classifications? When genres become overrun (and maybe overshadowed) by dozens of sub-genres, do they have any actual meaning? A genre, like any mental cue, is designed to quickly and decisively describe and evoke the most basic defining characteristics of a particular subset; it acts as a shortcut that inherently invites and promotes flexibility in its own manifestation (of course, shortcuts come with its own set of pitfalls). So while Amanda fails to see the utility of using Jazz as a genre given the wide variety of styles that proclaim their lineage (and therefore their “legitimacy”) to Jazz, I think it actually speaks to the enduring power of Jazz as a form of music to be so inclusive without losing its core identity. Jazz can manifest itself in big band, dixie, bop, avant garde, fusion, or lounge precisely because that identity allows room for variations in instruments, instrumentations, time signatures, modalities, or phrasings without ever losing that…feel, that…swing – that’s Jazz. I’m not entirely sure when Jazz began to actually mean something to me, and till this day I’m not so certain that I even know what Jazz actually is, but I do know it when I hear it.

Like countless other Jazz fans, my introduction was Miles Davis and John Coltrane, but I don’t think it meant anything to me (beyond it being a form of music) until I started listening to Chet Baker. Until I heard Chet Baker sing, I automatically equated Jazz vocals with the obvious figures (Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, etc), who set the bar extremely high. So imagine my surprise to hear Baker’s rather unique voice and style, a voice and style slightly off-kilter, somewhat unnerving, and precariously dancing on the edge of being off-key yet sound so musical, effortless and…brave; there’s a vulnerability, a weariness in his voice that just kills me every time. Is it crazy to think that his singing engenders a broader appreciation for the technically imperfect, for the possibility of beauty hidden beneath the rough surface, and for the beauty embedded within melancholy?

I love Jazz.

Easy Living, Chet Baker.


[from NPR's A Blog Supreme]

Seriously, viagra canada prostate how cute is that?!?

Coincidentally, case Amanda and I just talked about Jazz today. She argued that, patient as a genre, “Jazz” is too broad to have any precise meaning and that, as a result, the term itself inherits and accrues an enigmatic and perhaps even impenetrable quality for the general mass. (She then proceeded to rail against Frank Sinatra, but I’ll ignore that for now – mostly because I am genuinely dumbfounded whenever anyone doesn’t love the music I love as much as I do and am utterly convinced that it’s due to ignorance and not taste, and therefore she just needs to be properly informed…right? Yes, yes, I fully realize how insanely patronizing that is, but you know, I’m working on it…)

As much as I discount the inclusion of Smooth/Fusion Jazz in “real” Jazz, I recognize that Jazz (much like any major music genre) appears in many forms. But then the question is, Does that dilute the meaning of genre classifications? When genres become overrun (and maybe overshadowed) by dozens of sub-genres, do they have any actual meaning? A genre, like any mental cue, is designed to quickly and decisively describe and evoke the most basic defining characteristics of a particular subset; it acts as a shortcut that inherently invites and promotes flexibility in its own manifestation (of course, shortcuts come with its own set of pitfalls). So while Amanda fails to see the utility of using Jazz as a genre given the wide variety of styles that proclaim their lineage (and therefore their “legitimacy”) to Jazz, I think it actually speaks to the enduring power of Jazz as a form of music to be so inclusive without losing its core identity. Jazz can manifest itself in big band, dixie, bop, avant garde, fusion, or lounge precisely because that identity allows room for variations in instruments, instrumentations, time signatures, modalities, or phrasings without ever losing that…feel, that…swing – that’s Jazz. I’m not entirely sure when Jazz began to actually mean something to me, and till this day I’m not so certain that I even know what Jazz actually is, but I do know it when I hear it.

Like countless other Jazz fans, my introduction was Miles Davis and John Coltrane, but I don’t think it meant anything to me (beyond it being a form of music) until I started listening to Chet Baker. Chet Baker was, of course, a wonderful trumpet/flugelhorn player who died tragically, but until I heard him sing, I equated Jazz vocals only with the obvious figures (such as Ella Fitzgerald), who set the bar extremely high. So imagine my surprise to hear Baker’s rather unique voice and style, a voice and style slightly off-kilter, somewhat unnerving, and precariously dancing on the edge of being off-key yet sound so musical, effortless and…brave; there’s a vulnerability, a weariness in his voice that just kills me every time. Is it crazy to think that his singing engenders a broader appreciation for the technically imperfect, for the possibility of beauty hidden beneath the rough surface, and for the beauty embedded within melancholy?

I love Jazz.

Easy Living, Chet Baker.



To create the Robinella and the CC Stringband sound, cialis buy cialis gather the following ingredients:

  • One mandolin
  • One upright bass
  • One fiddle
  • Two guitars (acoustic and electric)
  • One drum set
  • One voice that sounds like Gillian Welch
  • One voice that sounds like Billie Holiday
  • One voice that sounds like Allison Krauss

Arrange the instruments on a bluegrass platter with a generous heaping of jazz sensibilities. Next, cialis generic in a moonshine martini glass, mix together a sprinkling of the Appalachian expressiveness of Gillian Welch, a pinch of Billie Holiday phrasings, and a dash of Allison Krauss’ angelic fairy dust.

I’m a colossal sucker for female singers with distinctive voices
Part Gillian Welch, part Billie Holiday and part Allison Krauss,


[from NPR's A Blog Supreme]

I love it.

Coincidentally, viagra viagra Amanda and I just talked about Jazz today. She argued that, buy viagra as a genre, ed “Jazz” is too broad to have any precise meaning and that, as a result, the term itself inherits and accrues an enigmatic and perhaps even impenetrable quality for the general mass. (She then proceeded to rail against Frank Sinatra, but I’ll ignore that for now – mostly because I am genuinely dumbfounded whenever anyone doesn’t love the music I love as much as I do and am utterly convinced that it’s due to ignorance and not taste, and therefore she just needs to be properly informed…right? Yes, yes, I fully realize how insanely patronizing that is, but you know, I’m working on it…)

As much as I discount the inclusion of Smooth/Fusion Jazz in “real” Jazz, I recognize that Jazz (much like any major music genre) appears in many forms. But then the question is, Does that dilute the meaning of genre classifications? When genres become overrun (and maybe overshadowed) by dozens of sub-genres, do they have any actual meaning? A genre, like any mental cue, is designed to quickly and decisively describe and evoke the most basic defining characteristics of a particular subset; it acts as a shortcut that inherently invites and promotes flexibility in its own manifestation (of course, shortcuts come with its own set of pitfalls). So while Amanda fails to see the utility of using Jazz as a genre given the wide variety of styles that proclaim their lineage (and therefore their “legitimacy”) to Jazz, I think it actually speaks to the enduring power of Jazz as a form of music to be so inclusive without losing its core identity. Jazz can manifest itself in big band, dixie, bop, avant garde, fusion, or lounge precisely because that identity allows room for variations in instruments, or instrumentations, or time signatures, or modalities, or phrasings without ever losing that…feel, that…swing – that’s Jazz.

I’m not entirely sure when Jazz began to actually mean something to me, and till this day I’m not so certain that I even know what Jazz actually is, but I do know it when I hear it. Like countless other Jazz fans, my introduction was Miles Davis and John Coltrane, but I don’t think it meant anything to me (beyond it being a form of music) until I started listening to Chet Baker. Until I heard Chet Baker sing, I automatically equated Jazz vocals with the obvious figures (Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, etc), who set the bar extremely high. So imagine my surprise to hear Baker’s rather unique voice and style, a voice and style slightly off-kilter, somewhat unnerving, and precariously dancing on the edge of being off-key yet sound so musical, effortless and…brave; there’s a vulnerability, a weariness in his voice that just kills me every time. Is it crazy to think that his singing engenders a broader appreciation for the technically imperfect, for the possibility of beauty hidden beneath the rough surface, and for the beauty embedded within melancholy?

I love Jazz.

Easy Living, Chet Baker.

[from NPR's A Blog Supreme]

I love it.

Coincidentally, buy cialis ailment Amanda and I just talked about Jazz today. She argued that, as a genre, “Jazz” is too broad to have any precise meaning and that, as a result, the term itself inherits and accrues an enigmatic and perhaps even impenetrable quality for the general mass. (She then proceeded to rail against Frank Sinatra, but I’ll ignore that for now – mostly because I am genuinely dumbfounded whenever anyone doesn’t love the music I love as much as I do and am utterly convinced that it’s due to ignorance and not taste, and therefore she just needs to be properly informed…right? Yes, yes, I fully realize how insanely patronizing that is, but you know, I’m working on it…)

As much as I discount the inclusion of Smooth/Fusion Jazz in “real” Jazz, I recognize that Jazz (much like any major music genre) appears in many forms. But then the question is, Does that dilute the meaning of genre classifications? When genres become overrun (and maybe overshadowed) by dozens of sub-genres, do they have any actual meaning? A genre, like any mental cue, is designed to quickly and decisively describe and evoke the most basic defining characteristics of a particular subset; it acts as a shortcut that inherently invites and promotes flexibility in its own manifestation (of course, shortcuts come with its own set of pitfalls). So while Amanda fails to see the utility of using Jazz as a genre given the wide variety of styles that proclaim their lineage (and therefore their “legitimacy”) to Jazz, I think it actually speaks to the enduring power of Jazz as a form of music to be so inclusive without losing its core identity. Jazz can manifest itself in big band, dixie, bop, avant garde, fusion, or lounge precisely because that identity allows room for variations in instruments, or instrumentations, or time signatures, or modalities, or phrasings without ever losing that…feel, that…swing – that’s Jazz.

I’m not entirely sure when Jazz began to actually mean something to me, and till this day I’m not so certain that I even know what Jazz actually is, but I do know it when I hear it. Like countless other Jazz fans, my introduction was Miles Davis and John Coltrane, but I don’t think it meant anything to me (beyond it being a form of music) until I started listening to Chet Baker. Until I heard Chet Baker sing, I automatically equated Jazz vocals with the obvious figures (Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, etc), who set the bar extremely high. So imagine my surprise to hear Baker’s rather unique voice and style, a voice and style slightly off-kilter, somewhat unnerving, and precariously dancing on the edge of being off-key yet sound so musical, effortless and…brave; there’s a vulnerability, a weariness in his voice that just kills me every time. Is it crazy to think that his singing engenders a broader appreciation for the technically imperfect, for the possibility of beauty hidden beneath the rough surface, and for the beauty embedded within melancholy?

I love Jazz.

Easy Living, Chet Baker.

[from NPR's A Blog Supreme]

Seriously, discount cialis viagra how cute is that?!?

Coincidentally, drugstore Amanda and I just talked about Jazz today. She argued that, nurse as a genre, “Jazz” is too broad to have any precise meaning and that, as a result, the term itself inherits and accrues an enigmatic and perhaps even impenetrable quality for the general mass. (She then proceeded to rail against Frank Sinatra, but I’ll ignore that for now – mostly because I am genuinely dumbfounded whenever anyone doesn’t love the music I love as much as I do and am utterly convinced that it’s due to ignorance and not taste, and therefore she just needs to be properly informed…right? Yes, yes, I fully realize how insanely patronizing that is, but you know, I’m working on it…)

As much as I discount the inclusion of Smooth/Fusion Jazz in “real” Jazz, I recognize that Jazz (much like any major music genre) appears in many forms. But then the question is, Does that dilute the meaning of genre classifications? When genres become overrun (and maybe overshadowed) by dozens of sub-genres, do they have any actual meaning? A genre, like any mental cue, is designed to quickly and decisively describe and evoke the most basic defining characteristics of a particular subset; it acts as a shortcut that inherently invites and promotes flexibility in its own manifestation (of course, shortcuts come with its own set of pitfalls). So while Amanda fails to see the utility of using Jazz as a genre given the wide variety of styles that proclaim their lineage (and therefore their “legitimacy”) to Jazz, I think it actually speaks to the enduring power of Jazz as a form of music to be so inclusive without losing its core identity. Jazz can manifest itself in big band, dixie, bop, avant garde, fusion, or lounge precisely because that identity allows room for variations in instruments, instrumentations, time signatures, modalities, or phrasings without ever losing that…feel, that…swing – that’s Jazz. I’m not entirely sure when Jazz began to actually mean something to me, and till this day I’m not so certain that I even know what Jazz actually is, but I do know it when I hear it.

Like countless other Jazz fans, my introduction was Miles Davis and John Coltrane, but I don’t think it meant anything to me (beyond it being a form of music) until I started listening to Chet Baker. Until I heard Chet Baker sing, I automatically equated Jazz vocals with the obvious figures (Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, etc), who set the bar extremely high. So imagine my surprise to hear Baker’s rather unique voice and style, a voice and style slightly off-kilter, somewhat unnerving, and precariously dancing on the edge of being off-key yet sound so musical, effortless and…brave; there’s a vulnerability, a weariness in his voice that just kills me every time. Is it crazy to think that his singing engenders a broader appreciation for the technically imperfect, for the possibility of beauty hidden beneath the rough surface, and for the beauty embedded within melancholy?

I love Jazz.

Easy Living, Chet Baker.


[from NPR's A Blog Supreme]

Seriously, viagra canada prostate how cute is that?!?

Coincidentally, case Amanda and I just talked about Jazz today. She argued that, patient as a genre, “Jazz” is too broad to have any precise meaning and that, as a result, the term itself inherits and accrues an enigmatic and perhaps even impenetrable quality for the general mass. (She then proceeded to rail against Frank Sinatra, but I’ll ignore that for now – mostly because I am genuinely dumbfounded whenever anyone doesn’t love the music I love as much as I do and am utterly convinced that it’s due to ignorance and not taste, and therefore she just needs to be properly informed…right? Yes, yes, I fully realize how insanely patronizing that is, but you know, I’m working on it…)

As much as I discount the inclusion of Smooth/Fusion Jazz in “real” Jazz, I recognize that Jazz (much like any major music genre) appears in many forms. But then the question is, Does that dilute the meaning of genre classifications? When genres become overrun (and maybe overshadowed) by dozens of sub-genres, do they have any actual meaning? A genre, like any mental cue, is designed to quickly and decisively describe and evoke the most basic defining characteristics of a particular subset; it acts as a shortcut that inherently invites and promotes flexibility in its own manifestation (of course, shortcuts come with its own set of pitfalls). So while Amanda fails to see the utility of using Jazz as a genre given the wide variety of styles that proclaim their lineage (and therefore their “legitimacy”) to Jazz, I think it actually speaks to the enduring power of Jazz as a form of music to be so inclusive without losing its core identity. Jazz can manifest itself in big band, dixie, bop, avant garde, fusion, or lounge precisely because that identity allows room for variations in instruments, instrumentations, time signatures, modalities, or phrasings without ever losing that…feel, that…swing – that’s Jazz. I’m not entirely sure when Jazz began to actually mean something to me, and till this day I’m not so certain that I even know what Jazz actually is, but I do know it when I hear it.

Like countless other Jazz fans, my introduction was Miles Davis and John Coltrane, but I don’t think it meant anything to me (beyond it being a form of music) until I started listening to Chet Baker. Chet Baker was, of course, a wonderful trumpet/flugelhorn player who died tragically, but until I heard him sing, I equated Jazz vocals only with the obvious figures (such as Ella Fitzgerald), who set the bar extremely high. So imagine my surprise to hear Baker’s rather unique voice and style, a voice and style slightly off-kilter, somewhat unnerving, and precariously dancing on the edge of being off-key yet sound so musical, effortless and…brave; there’s a vulnerability, a weariness in his voice that just kills me every time. Is it crazy to think that his singing engenders a broader appreciation for the technically imperfect, for the possibility of beauty hidden beneath the rough surface, and for the beauty embedded within melancholy?

I love Jazz.

Easy Living, Chet Baker.



To create the Robinella and the CC Stringband sound, cialis buy cialis gather the following ingredients:

  • One mandolin
  • One upright bass
  • One fiddle
  • Two guitars (acoustic and electric)
  • One drum set
  • One voice that sounds like Gillian Welch
  • One voice that sounds like Billie Holiday
  • One voice that sounds like Allison Krauss

Arrange the instruments on a bluegrass platter with a generous heaping of jazz sensibilities. Next, cialis generic in a moonshine martini glass, mix together a sprinkling of the Appalachian expressiveness of Gillian Welch, a pinch of Billie Holiday phrasings, and a dash of Allison Krauss’ angelic fairy dust.

I’m a colossal sucker for female singers with distinctive voices
Part Gillian Welch, part Billie Holiday and part Allison Krauss,



To create the Robinella and the CC Stringband sound, best cialis help gather the following ingredients:

  • One mandolin
  • One upright bass
  • One fiddle
  • Two guitars (acoustic and electric)
  • One drum set
  • One voice that sounds like Gillian Welch
  • One voice that sounds like Billie Holiday
  • One voice that sounds like Allison Krauss

Arrange the instruments on a bluegrass platter with a generous heaping of jazz sensibilities. Next, cialis buy buy viagra in a moonshine martini glass, mix together a sprinkling of the Appalachian expressiveness of Gillian Welch, a pinch of Billie Holiday phrasings, and a dash of Allison Krauss’ angelic fairy dust.

I’m a colossal sucker for female singers with distinctive voices
Part Gillian Welch, part Billie Holiday and part Allison Krauss,


[from NPR's A Blog Supreme]

I love it.

Coincidentally, viagra viagra Amanda and I just talked about Jazz today. She argued that, buy viagra as a genre, ed “Jazz” is too broad to have any precise meaning and that, as a result, the term itself inherits and accrues an enigmatic and perhaps even impenetrable quality for the general mass. (She then proceeded to rail against Frank Sinatra, but I’ll ignore that for now – mostly because I am genuinely dumbfounded whenever anyone doesn’t love the music I love as much as I do and am utterly convinced that it’s due to ignorance and not taste, and therefore she just needs to be properly informed…right? Yes, yes, I fully realize how insanely patronizing that is, but you know, I’m working on it…)

As much as I discount the inclusion of Smooth/Fusion Jazz in “real” Jazz, I recognize that Jazz (much like any major music genre) appears in many forms. But then the question is, Does that dilute the meaning of genre classifications? When genres become overrun (and maybe overshadowed) by dozens of sub-genres, do they have any actual meaning? A genre, like any mental cue, is designed to quickly and decisively describe and evoke the most basic defining characteristics of a particular subset; it acts as a shortcut that inherently invites and promotes flexibility in its own manifestation (of course, shortcuts come with its own set of pitfalls). So while Amanda fails to see the utility of using Jazz as a genre given the wide variety of styles that proclaim their lineage (and therefore their “legitimacy”) to Jazz, I think it actually speaks to the enduring power of Jazz as a form of music to be so inclusive without losing its core identity. Jazz can manifest itself in big band, dixie, bop, avant garde, fusion, or lounge precisely because that identity allows room for variations in instruments, or instrumentations, or time signatures, or modalities, or phrasings without ever losing that…feel, that…swing – that’s Jazz.

I’m not entirely sure when Jazz began to actually mean something to me, and till this day I’m not so certain that I even know what Jazz actually is, but I do know it when I hear it. Like countless other Jazz fans, my introduction was Miles Davis and John Coltrane, but I don’t think it meant anything to me (beyond it being a form of music) until I started listening to Chet Baker. Until I heard Chet Baker sing, I automatically equated Jazz vocals with the obvious figures (Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, etc), who set the bar extremely high. So imagine my surprise to hear Baker’s rather unique voice and style, a voice and style slightly off-kilter, somewhat unnerving, and precariously dancing on the edge of being off-key yet sound so musical, effortless and…brave; there’s a vulnerability, a weariness in his voice that just kills me every time. Is it crazy to think that his singing engenders a broader appreciation for the technically imperfect, for the possibility of beauty hidden beneath the rough surface, and for the beauty embedded within melancholy?

I love Jazz.

Easy Living, Chet Baker.

[from NPR's A Blog Supreme]

I love it.

Coincidentally, buy cialis ailment Amanda and I just talked about Jazz today. She argued that, as a genre, “Jazz” is too broad to have any precise meaning and that, as a result, the term itself inherits and accrues an enigmatic and perhaps even impenetrable quality for the general mass. (She then proceeded to rail against Frank Sinatra, but I’ll ignore that for now – mostly because I am genuinely dumbfounded whenever anyone doesn’t love the music I love as much as I do and am utterly convinced that it’s due to ignorance and not taste, and therefore she just needs to be properly informed…right? Yes, yes, I fully realize how insanely patronizing that is, but you know, I’m working on it…)

As much as I discount the inclusion of Smooth/Fusion Jazz in “real” Jazz, I recognize that Jazz (much like any major music genre) appears in many forms. But then the question is, Does that dilute the meaning of genre classifications? When genres become overrun (and maybe overshadowed) by dozens of sub-genres, do they have any actual meaning? A genre, like any mental cue, is designed to quickly and decisively describe and evoke the most basic defining characteristics of a particular subset; it acts as a shortcut that inherently invites and promotes flexibility in its own manifestation (of course, shortcuts come with its own set of pitfalls). So while Amanda fails to see the utility of using Jazz as a genre given the wide variety of styles that proclaim their lineage (and therefore their “legitimacy”) to Jazz, I think it actually speaks to the enduring power of Jazz as a form of music to be so inclusive without losing its core identity. Jazz can manifest itself in big band, dixie, bop, avant garde, fusion, or lounge precisely because that identity allows room for variations in instruments, or instrumentations, or time signatures, or modalities, or phrasings without ever losing that…feel, that…swing – that’s Jazz.

I’m not entirely sure when Jazz began to actually mean something to me, and till this day I’m not so certain that I even know what Jazz actually is, but I do know it when I hear it. Like countless other Jazz fans, my introduction was Miles Davis and John Coltrane, but I don’t think it meant anything to me (beyond it being a form of music) until I started listening to Chet Baker. Until I heard Chet Baker sing, I automatically equated Jazz vocals with the obvious figures (Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, etc), who set the bar extremely high. So imagine my surprise to hear Baker’s rather unique voice and style, a voice and style slightly off-kilter, somewhat unnerving, and precariously dancing on the edge of being off-key yet sound so musical, effortless and…brave; there’s a vulnerability, a weariness in his voice that just kills me every time. Is it crazy to think that his singing engenders a broader appreciation for the technically imperfect, for the possibility of beauty hidden beneath the rough surface, and for the beauty embedded within melancholy?

I love Jazz.

Easy Living, Chet Baker.

[from NPR's A Blog Supreme]

Seriously, discount cialis viagra how cute is that?!?

Coincidentally, drugstore Amanda and I just talked about Jazz today. She argued that, nurse as a genre, “Jazz” is too broad to have any precise meaning and that, as a result, the term itself inherits and accrues an enigmatic and perhaps even impenetrable quality for the general mass. (She then proceeded to rail against Frank Sinatra, but I’ll ignore that for now – mostly because I am genuinely dumbfounded whenever anyone doesn’t love the music I love as much as I do and am utterly convinced that it’s due to ignorance and not taste, and therefore she just needs to be properly informed…right? Yes, yes, I fully realize how insanely patronizing that is, but you know, I’m working on it…)

As much as I discount the inclusion of Smooth/Fusion Jazz in “real” Jazz, I recognize that Jazz (much like any major music genre) appears in many forms. But then the question is, Does that dilute the meaning of genre classifications? When genres become overrun (and maybe overshadowed) by dozens of sub-genres, do they have any actual meaning? A genre, like any mental cue, is designed to quickly and decisively describe and evoke the most basic defining characteristics of a particular subset; it acts as a shortcut that inherently invites and promotes flexibility in its own manifestation (of course, shortcuts come with its own set of pitfalls). So while Amanda fails to see the utility of using Jazz as a genre given the wide variety of styles that proclaim their lineage (and therefore their “legitimacy”) to Jazz, I think it actually speaks to the enduring power of Jazz as a form of music to be so inclusive without losing its core identity. Jazz can manifest itself in big band, dixie, bop, avant garde, fusion, or lounge precisely because that identity allows room for variations in instruments, instrumentations, time signatures, modalities, or phrasings without ever losing that…feel, that…swing – that’s Jazz. I’m not entirely sure when Jazz began to actually mean something to me, and till this day I’m not so certain that I even know what Jazz actually is, but I do know it when I hear it.

Like countless other Jazz fans, my introduction was Miles Davis and John Coltrane, but I don’t think it meant anything to me (beyond it being a form of music) until I started listening to Chet Baker. Until I heard Chet Baker sing, I automatically equated Jazz vocals with the obvious figures (Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, etc), who set the bar extremely high. So imagine my surprise to hear Baker’s rather unique voice and style, a voice and style slightly off-kilter, somewhat unnerving, and precariously dancing on the edge of being off-key yet sound so musical, effortless and…brave; there’s a vulnerability, a weariness in his voice that just kills me every time. Is it crazy to think that his singing engenders a broader appreciation for the technically imperfect, for the possibility of beauty hidden beneath the rough surface, and for the beauty embedded within melancholy?

I love Jazz.

Easy Living, Chet Baker.


[from NPR's A Blog Supreme]

Seriously, viagra canada prostate how cute is that?!?

Coincidentally, case Amanda and I just talked about Jazz today. She argued that, patient as a genre, “Jazz” is too broad to have any precise meaning and that, as a result, the term itself inherits and accrues an enigmatic and perhaps even impenetrable quality for the general mass. (She then proceeded to rail against Frank Sinatra, but I’ll ignore that for now – mostly because I am genuinely dumbfounded whenever anyone doesn’t love the music I love as much as I do and am utterly convinced that it’s due to ignorance and not taste, and therefore she just needs to be properly informed…right? Yes, yes, I fully realize how insanely patronizing that is, but you know, I’m working on it…)

As much as I discount the inclusion of Smooth/Fusion Jazz in “real” Jazz, I recognize that Jazz (much like any major music genre) appears in many forms. But then the question is, Does that dilute the meaning of genre classifications? When genres become overrun (and maybe overshadowed) by dozens of sub-genres, do they have any actual meaning? A genre, like any mental cue, is designed to quickly and decisively describe and evoke the most basic defining characteristics of a particular subset; it acts as a shortcut that inherently invites and promotes flexibility in its own manifestation (of course, shortcuts come with its own set of pitfalls). So while Amanda fails to see the utility of using Jazz as a genre given the wide variety of styles that proclaim their lineage (and therefore their “legitimacy”) to Jazz, I think it actually speaks to the enduring power of Jazz as a form of music to be so inclusive without losing its core identity. Jazz can manifest itself in big band, dixie, bop, avant garde, fusion, or lounge precisely because that identity allows room for variations in instruments, instrumentations, time signatures, modalities, or phrasings without ever losing that…feel, that…swing – that’s Jazz. I’m not entirely sure when Jazz began to actually mean something to me, and till this day I’m not so certain that I even know what Jazz actually is, but I do know it when I hear it.

Like countless other Jazz fans, my introduction was Miles Davis and John Coltrane, but I don’t think it meant anything to me (beyond it being a form of music) until I started listening to Chet Baker. Chet Baker was, of course, a wonderful trumpet/flugelhorn player who died tragically, but until I heard him sing, I equated Jazz vocals only with the obvious figures (such as Ella Fitzgerald), who set the bar extremely high. So imagine my surprise to hear Baker’s rather unique voice and style, a voice and style slightly off-kilter, somewhat unnerving, and precariously dancing on the edge of being off-key yet sound so musical, effortless and…brave; there’s a vulnerability, a weariness in his voice that just kills me every time. Is it crazy to think that his singing engenders a broader appreciation for the technically imperfect, for the possibility of beauty hidden beneath the rough surface, and for the beauty embedded within melancholy?

I love Jazz.

Easy Living, Chet Baker.



To create the Robinella and the CC Stringband sound, cialis buy cialis gather the following ingredients:

  • One mandolin
  • One upright bass
  • One fiddle
  • Two guitars (acoustic and electric)
  • One drum set
  • One voice that sounds like Gillian Welch
  • One voice that sounds like Billie Holiday
  • One voice that sounds like Allison Krauss

Arrange the instruments on a bluegrass platter with a generous heaping of jazz sensibilities. Next, cialis generic in a moonshine martini glass, mix together a sprinkling of the Appalachian expressiveness of Gillian Welch, a pinch of Billie Holiday phrasings, and a dash of Allison Krauss’ angelic fairy dust.

I’m a colossal sucker for female singers with distinctive voices
Part Gillian Welch, part Billie Holiday and part Allison Krauss,



To create the Robinella and the CC Stringband sound, best cialis help gather the following ingredients:

  • One mandolin
  • One upright bass
  • One fiddle
  • Two guitars (acoustic and electric)
  • One drum set
  • One voice that sounds like Gillian Welch
  • One voice that sounds like Billie Holiday
  • One voice that sounds like Allison Krauss

Arrange the instruments on a bluegrass platter with a generous heaping of jazz sensibilities. Next, cialis buy buy viagra in a moonshine martini glass, mix together a sprinkling of the Appalachian expressiveness of Gillian Welch, a pinch of Billie Holiday phrasings, and a dash of Allison Krauss’ angelic fairy dust.

I’m a colossal sucker for female singers with distinctive voices
Part Gillian Welch, part Billie Holiday and part Allison Krauss,


To create the Robinella and the CC Stringband sound, viagra sale help gather the following ingredients:

  • One mandolin
  • One upright bass
  • One fiddle
  • Two guitars (acoustic and electric)
  • One drum set
  • One voice that sounds like Gillian Welch
  • One voice that sounds like Billie Holiday
  • One voice that sounds like Allison Krauss

Arrange the instruments on a bluegrass platter with a generous heaping of jazz sensibilities. Next, sovaldi sale in a moonshine martini glass, treatment mix together a sprinkling of the Appalachian expressiveness of Gillian Welch, a pinch of Billie Holiday phrasings, and a dash of Allison Krauss’ angelic fairy dust. Serve at your next hoedown in Manhattan. Enjoy!

I bought their self-titled third album in 2003 and have listened to it at least once a month ever since. It has bluegrass, old-time country, jazz, blues, gospel and a siren voice – I love it and so should you. In fact, you should love their entire catalog (well, ok, their fourth album, Solace for the Lonely, lacks the magic of its predecessors.)  Unfortunately, all of their albums on difficult to find on vinyl.


Man Over, Robinella and the CC Stringband
Mistakes, Robinella and the CC Stringband
No Saint, No Prize, Robinella and the CC Stringband
Flashdance…What A Feelin, Robinella and the CC Stringband. Yes, that Flashdance.


Posted in Covers, Listening to Now.