Sonny the Samurai

Once saw a great photo of Sonny Rollins accompanying an interview that was shot (I think) in his old Tribeca apartment. Remember seeing a really cool poster behind him that depicted the musician in a traditional Japanese wood block style. Never could find a print of that poster, but always loved the idea of Mr. Rollins as a jazz samurai, wreaking havoc with his trusty sax. So did this for fun from memory (sure the original was much better).

Bitter.

The Leopard just had one of those long nights where you suddenly feel a little hopeless. You know - those evenings that morph into the darkest hours, where you’re lying in bed staring at the ceiling and you think about all those bad decisions you’ve made in life, loves that you lost and those heart crushing regrets, regrets, regrets.

I think this was all spurred on by listening to MeShell N’degeocello’s album, Bitter. It’s one of those records where one lover is pleading to the another in that starkly naked, almost unbearably vulnerable way. On songs like “Fool Of Me” and the title song, It’s almost like we’re listening in on a very intimate, private conversation between two lovers - literally sung in whispers. What makes Bitter especially penetrating is that N'degeocello takes on both sides, and looks at relationships without judgment from all angles.

In the way, it’s what keeps the music from feeling completely tragic. It’s saying that things are rarely what they seem. You begin to realize that yes, you made mistakes and sometimes you royally screwed up, but hopefully, your basic intentions were honest, if not thoughtful.

But still you still have wake up and go to work.

Steely Dan

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Despite all the diversity in 70’s pop radio, Steely Dan always stood out. In the hands of founders Walter Becker and Donald Fagen, there was something about the seamless mixture of jazz, rock and R&B. First, there was Fagen’s wildly distinctive voice, which always seemed on the edge of disappearing off key. And of course, there was the flawless musicianship and state of the art production. This is music created by intellectual college geeks, but what really drew a in a listener as the melodicism and the underlying soulfulness. The duo wrote of mysterious tales of misfits: gamblers, junkies, burnouts, and losers. It’s far-reaching, dramatic music.

With tunes like “Peg”, ‘Rikki Don’t Lose That Number, ‘Aja”, and so many other undisputed classics, and the band's sound was totally beyond category. It’s just Steely Dan.
      

Al Jarreau

The Leopard's fondest memory of Al Jarreau is his album Look To The Rainbow, a double LP live concert from 1977.
A pal of mine and I used to listen to it constantly in the early 80’s. It got so we had played it so many times we knew every sound, every note, ever whoop and cry.

When I think of him I think of one of my favorite lines in his song, ”Could You Believe” - “Could you believe in a dream / when I tell you that it's true?” I miss Al and will listen to his music the rest of my life.

When Will I See You Again

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What your very favorite song is often corresponds with what is happening in your life. Your taste changes with the times. Music you treasured when you were 10 often seems much less sophisticated by the time you're in your 30's. 

The only song that I have consistently loved since the first time I heard it is the Three Degrees' "When Will I See You Again", written and produced by Kenny Gamble and Leon Huff. 

It is simply the perfect pop song: ethereal, otherworldly, transcendent, both tragically sad and deliriously happy. I've always pictured the three lovely angels, Fayette Pinkney, Shirley Porter and Linda Turner on a heavenly cloud singing from above, gently whispering to a lover if he will return. Their intertwined voices function as one, sensuously pleading a wonderful moment they shared will be repeated. By the the end of the song, the answer is never given and they seem to exist in a mythical kingdom forever up on high, searching or their lover's return.

Matthew Rybicki - Happy Accident

Working on this album cover for the superb jazz bassist Matthew Rybicki a few years ago, The Leopard was struggling a little bit coming up with a strong visual. Did an ink drawing of Matthew, but it felt a bit static and just wasn’t “moving”. I scanned it into the computer and brought it into Illustrator and used the tool “Live Trace”, to clean up my ink lines a little and make my drawing a vector file and editable. At one point, I accidentally grabbed the figure and inadvertently “stretched” it. I was about to hit “undo” because it looked like a mistake to me

at first, but I noticed it created an interesting effect. All of the sudden the title “Driven” and the art made sense. I framed the top like a vintage album cover with a little scribble where the record logo might be. Matthew seemed to love it. It was just one of those things. Jazz, man.

Sakamoto - Mighty Maestro

In all the talk of Oscar snubs, one name forgotten was that of the master composer Ryuichi Sakamoto. The Leopard become aware of the brilliant musician from the soundtrack of The Bertolucci film The Last Emperor, a collaboration between he and David Byrne, where some of the most beautiful themes were Sakamoto’s own.  Going back, I discovered that Sakamoto was part of Japan’s early pop electronic music scene, and an integral part of the influential band Yellow Magic Orchestra (or YMO). The ambitious musician went on to become a solo artist, creating innovative music in all manner of genres - electronic, jazz, classical, which led to his scoring the soundtrack to the film Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence to international acclaim.  His latest project, co-composer of the multi-nominated The Revenant was another triumph last year. Up against the stiff completion of the return of Ennio Morricone for The Hateful Eight and John Williams for Star Wars The Force Awakens, his superb work unfortunately went unnoticed by the academy. Pity the fools.

Sade Adu

I remember walking down the street with a friend in 1984 and seeing the cover of Diamond Life, Sade’s first album, in a record store window (remember those?). It resembled a  ‘50’S LP cover, with its blue tinted photograph a beautiful, sensuous woman. My companion remarked, “If she has a voice that matches that face, she’s got something there.”

Sure enough, weeks later we heard a lovely, burning tune on the radio - the first single off that album, “Smooth Operator”.  We could now match the face with music. And now, we had a name: Sade (pronounced, of course shar-day).

Being jazz heads, we weren’t fooling ourselves that this cool, suave pop star was an bondafide jazz singer, but she had a slick sound that suggested the sophisticated feeling of the music without the improvisational aspects that exemplify the music. She was probably one of the first truly successful smooth jazz artists.

Sade and her crack band weren’t a flash in the pan. The quietly innovative group expanded and worked with its signature sound expertly over the years until their last smash album, Soldier Of Love in 2010.

African British Helen Folasade Adu (her real name) is the very definition of diva, rarely retuning to the stage or recording studio until she sees fit, but always finds generations a eager fans who are always willing to hear more.    

Gil Scott - Heron: Nothing New

Stumbled on a recording from last year released only in the U.K. of stripped down performances of old songs by Gil Scott-Heron called Nothing New. I found myself playing it over and over again until as well as some of his 70’s LP’S until  late into the night.  I saw one of Gil’s last performances, a few months before he died in late Spring of 2011 at the Blue Note Jazz Club. I ran into him on the stairs on the way to the bathroom. "I love your music", I said. "Been listening to you all my life." He  just stared at me blankly, but not impolitely, and waited until I stepped aside.

When I was a teenager and Gil was a huge influence. He connected blackness and intellectual and political curiosity.  I think I might be a slightly different person if I had not discovered him and his music.

Fishbone: Mad Vibe

ONE COOL FALL EVENING back in the mid -80’s The Leopard was strolling on a downtown Washington D.C. street when I heard the most wonderful noise –blaring brass horns, played loud and rhythmically like roaring choo-choo. I peeked down a dark, black-bricked passageway following the sounds. Once inside, there was a dimly lit club, hot as a toaster oven, stuffed to the rafters with young men and women of all races and ethnic types in punk regalia – torn jeans and t-shirts, spiky hair of all colors and consistencies  - wildly slam dancing with an almost murderous abandon. Beer bottles were flying, and other identified liquids which made the floor shiny-slick. Kids had their heads thrown back in sheer ecstasy while others leapt on and off the stage, sometimes barging into the band’s space – and diving into a mosh of sweaty, writhing bodies.

Leading all this were five young black men, also drenched, dancing so wildly I feared the lead singer, (Angelo Moore, A.K.A. Dr. Madd Vibe), would somehow injure himself, what with his crazy twitching so near the mike stand, and his insistence on rolling around on the glass covered floor.
All 5 men were also simultaneously playing all manner of instruments sometimes switching from a saxophone to a keyboard, to a guitar or bass, while singing, rapping or simply screaming—all seemingly with righteous purpose. Before I realized it, I too joined the fray. By the end of the wet, dark, hot night I was, and forever more, a Fishbone fan.

Since, over the years, I’ve purchased nearly all their recordings and stuck by them through thick and thin, and gone to see them many times. They never disappoint. Now in their mid-to-late 50’s, only two of the original band members whom I saw that fateful night at the 9:30 Club remain. Lead singer/cofounder Angelo and bass player/high school pal & co-founder Norwood Fisher.

When I saw them recently at Brooklyn Bowl, It seemed nothing had changed. Before the show, Wearing a wrinkled Beetlejuice –like suit, Moore waded through the crowd, greeting fans and taking iphone selfies. I couldn’t resist. As I realized I never actually made an acquaintance with this man who’d gRown to mean so much to me. As I strode up to him, placing my hand on his shoulder to pose for a portrait, I whispered in his ear, “I love you man”.  He knowingly smiled.

Wynton, come blow your horn

 

Some years ago in The Leopard's past, I worked for a certain well known non profit jazz organization in New York helmed by world famous jazz trumpeter Wynton Marsalis. The job eventually became life forming and one the greatest experiences of  my life, but I will never forget that fateful first week. In my capacity as Art Director for the organization, I was assigned to design a huge banner to herald the venue's upcoming season. Mr. Marsalis had mentioned to me he had just had a brand new Monette trumpet made, and I got the  idea to use a photograph of the horn as the main art. This particular instrument was completely designed and created with Mr. Marsalis in mind and was worth at least $10,000. Over a year had been spent on custom design details and development.

I asked Wynton to borrow this gorgeous horn to take it to be photographed. He loved the idea (Wynton at the time didn't much like to be photographed himself, which would surely have been the next option) and cheerfully handed it over. I grabbed a subway downtown to a location that I wasn't entirely familiar with. Preoccupied with the task at hand, I suddenly realized I had arrived at my stop. Without thinking,  I jumped off the train with a shot. But once the train doors started to close, I had a sickly feeling I had forgotten something. The case holding Wynton's golden horn was still on the seat!  I grabbed for the doors and tried to pry them open with all my strength. A good Samaritan - a young woman who had been sitting next to me - picked up the case and tried to hand it to me through the closing doors. I felt utter horror as the train began to move forward. I yelled ,"Stop! Stop!" at the top of my lungs as the train started to speed up, leaving the station. 

Finally, the door opened again about two-thirds wide and with the woman's help, I was able to pull it towards me without a scratch on the case.

As the train disappeared back into the tunnel, I'll never forget the satisfied look on the woman's face. I hope I get to meet her again some day and buy her a beer.

Chrissie Hynde

There's always been something special about Chrissie Hynde. Born and raised in Akron, Ohio, Hynde was one of those outside kids straight out of am SE Hinton novel. A rock n' roll obsessive, She moved to the UK in hopes of writing for the British pop zine, New Music Express (NME), waxing philosophical about current rock music. After much ambling around, a she formed the band The Pretenders, a force that as much as any defined late 70's early 80's rock. Hynde's distinctive kittenish voice could scream and wail as well as say, the Clash, but she could croon as beautifully as Linda Ronstadt or Karen Carpenter on their best days.

Her version of Nick Lowe's "Stop You Sobbing" perked up ears in 1978, but her own composition - the one that she and the band are probably best known for - "Brass in Pocket" became her signature.
The story of a poor, besotted waitress trying to get the attention of a witless greaser, the song heralded a female rock sound like no other.
Self titled, the whole first Pretenders album was full of gems and there was no turning back. By this time Chrissie is a living legend, with an emphasis on the living.

Click here for a video of her new song Dark Sunglasses off her new album, "Stockholm".

Excellent article in The New Yorker on Chrissie Hynde by Sasha Frere-Jones

David Stone Martin, Artist

By far one of The Leopard's biggest influences is the remarkable illustrator David Stone Martin. Even if you don't know his name, you've probably seen his work on hundreds of album covers, most notably Billie Holiday's early LPs and and many other beautiful drawings and paintings created for jazz impresario Norman Granz's various record labels.

Martin's medium of choice was crowquill pen and ink, where he cultivated a rough, distinctive line, not wholly unlike his primary influence, the brilliant political artist Ben Shahn.

Martin's also created art for children's books and advertisements, but it was his jazz art that made te biggest impression on me. When I was given the opportunity to create covers for jazz bassist Christian McBride's LP covers, my mind went directly to Martin's wonderful work. 

Although I didn't want to directly emulate him, I tried to create a feeling similar to his.

I don't know if I ever got close to achieving it, but I'm was happy to even be able to try.

Questlove

The best beach reading this Summer by far for The Leopard has been the new memoir by  Ahmir “?uestlove”  Thompson, drummer of the band The Roots, Mo’Meta Blues. Quest makes a game attempt to rethink the genre of the rock bio, resulting in a lively, fun read.

A music enthusiast of the highest order, the afroed' one has an engaging love of music of all kinds, sometimes bordering on obsession.  At the same time, there’s jubilance to his love of all things pop that makes this book so endearing.

Time Run Out: Dave Brubeck

 

Among the first jazz records The Leopard ever listened to in a semi-serious way was Miles Davis'  seminal Kind of Blue,  John Coltrane's My Favorite Things and Dave Brubeck's Time Out. Miles' album made me appreciate the sensual intricacies of improvisational music, Coltrane the fiery expression, and with Brubeck, the seemingly limitless possibilities of the medium.

Tunes such as "Blue Rondo A La Turk", " Kathy's Waltz" and the massively popular "Take Five"  expressed what jazz could be, and where it was going. it could be crazy popular (Time Out was the first jazz recording to sell over a million copies), but also challenging. Brubeck was a visionary.

 As Donald Fagen Of Steely Dan immortalized in his tune "New Frontier":

I hear you're mad about Brubeck

I like your eyes, I like him too
He's an artist, a pioneer
We've got to have some music on the new frontier".

Click here for the Dave Brubeck composition "Blue Shadows In The Street". 

Happy Birthday, John Coltrane

The Leopard does not like to speak in absolutes, and I don't like to compare art. Yet, when I'm really honest with myself, the one whose music has mattered to me the most is that of John Coltrane.  His method of communication, jazz, and more specifically, his expressive tool, the saxophone, cuts straight to my heart and closes around it, like a fist, or a hug. He is everything I strive to be as an artist, and everything I admire.

Today, John William Coltrane would be 85 years old (younger than my own father). He was born in Hamlet, North Carolina on September 23, 1926.

Thank you, Mr. Coltrane. Your music lives on. 

Click here to listen to the Coltrane composition "Tunji".

Moondog

In a pivotal scene in the comedy Pineapple Express, James Franco as a fuzzed up marijuana dealer and Seth Rogen as his erstwhile customer meet in a cluttered apartment for a transaction.  In the weed-clouded room, the boys wax poetic about the wonderfulness of chronic while a strange, slithery jazz plays in the background.

I was immediately attracted to the oddly surreal music, and a quick stop on IMDB brought me the desired information: It was the work the brilliant blind composer/musician/inventor Moondog.

Moondog (real name: Louis Thomas Hardin) was the epitome of the outside artist.  He was born in Kansas in 1916 an moved to New York in the 1940s where he became a street musician. He was a fixture on 53^rd street and 6^th avenue for over 30 years and was well known to the community  for his eccentricities: he sported a flowing white beard and homemade viking outfit complete with a horned helmet. He played his strange music on curious self-invented instruments, but counted among his admirers and friends established musicians like Leonard Bernstein and Philip Glass. 

Even though Moondog’s music is often characterized as avant-garde, it is strangely accessible. Though wholly original, there’s humanism to his style that, even in the soundtrack of a Judd Apatow movie, commands attention.   

Click hear Lament I: Bird’s lamenthttps://www.box.com/s/c9ba9ef82c22e09b3e7e