This blog from over two years ago seems a good follow-up to the short one I posted a couple of days ago.. still spouting off the same new stuff.
I am here again at the definitive Bachelor Pad (the Lexington Band House), having just arrived from West Virginia, where I spent the week back home in Buckhannon with the family. It was good to see them again, as they all seem to be doing well and still crazy (after all these years) yet functional. As good as it was to hang with the parents and brother (my sister is interning at a Horse Camp in Ohio), I am happy to be back home in Kentucky, sitting here writing these words.
As I was pulling into Chestnut Ridge Dr., I had some spontaneous thoughts about music (which is actually a regular occurrence, as you may imagine). Particularly, jazz. It occurred to me that jazz originated as a language for a disillusioned race, and that the original great jazzmen (Bud Powell, Charlie Parker) were perfectly comfortable with that language. But this…
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