Sun Ra song: Nuclear War

(click title for song)

This an amazing Sun Ra song I happened to run into on the web. It's from around 1982,when there was a lot of buzz going around about the threat of nuclear war between the USSR & the states.  According to Allmusic.com, Ra really thought he had a hit song and took it to Columbia Records and had it soundly rejected. Listen to it for just a couple of moments and you'll realize he really must have had his head somewhere in space. The word motherfucker is used over a dozen times--and with lyrics like "It's a motherfucker don't you know/if they push that button yo' ass gotta go. and whatcha gonna do without your ass?"

But I love it. 

I'm talkin 'bout Isaac Hayes (Shut Yo' Mouth!)

The Leopard is sure that in the coming weeks there will be dozens of articles, obits and tributes about the original Black Moses, Isaac Hayes,  flooding the media. There probably won't be anything that The Leopard can contribute in that area that won't already be covered about the fruitful musical life of the man who was the very personification of soul.

So I can only offer a youthful rumination.  The first time I remember seeing Hayes' image, it was in the basement at my aunt's house. My aunt and uncle were the hippest folks in my family and they always had the latest records. I used to enjoy just looking at the album covers: Jackson Five, Stevie Wonder, Gladys Knight and The Pips. I especially loved The Ohio Players covers, like the one for the album called Fire featuring a model with nothing on but a fire chief hat. Up until that time, it was the closest thing I'd come to an actual Playboy magazine.

Then there was Isaac Hayes. My aunt and uncle must have been big fans because they seemed to have all his records.  I remember the Black Moses album that folded out into a crucifix. But my favorite was Hot Buttered Soul. Of course, I had no idea what that meant, but I loved the cover image, looking down on Hayes's bald head. I used to stare at the cover while listening to the groovy, soulful sound of his voice.  I looked at it so much that I remember thinking if it's called Hot Buttered Soul, maybe they should have put a pat of butter melting on his head--pretty silly.

The music was different than anything I'd ever heard before--all the songs were abnormally long, sometimes as much as 20 minutes, a whole album side--and had fascinating spoken introductions recited in Hayes's trademark gravelly baritone.

Shaft was everywhere on the radio in 1971.  Everyone I knew had a copy of the album or the single. The Theme From Shaft is probably one of the most recognizable pieces of music ever written.  It is unforgettable. 

Kinda like the man himself.

Fear

Recently, The Leopard was having a conversation at lunch with some co-workers about fears. What is it that we are afraid of? We all agreed that our biggest fear would be the death of a loved one: our children, our spouses, our significant others. But what were our childhood fears when we were kids and more self-centered?

I mentioned that the first thing I remember really being afraid of was the Wicked Witch from Wizard of Oz. They used to play it every year around Thanksgiving or Easter and I loved the movie and was mesmerized by it, but I hated the Witch. I remember from the moment when she first arrives to fetch the ruby slippers in one of the early scenes set in Munchkin Land. I would cower in my seat, hugging a couch cushion tightly to me.

In our conversation at lunch, someone interjected that they were afraid of the flying monkeys. She said that she used to have nightmares about them. They never bugged me. Their frozen faces were obviously masks, and even at 8 years old I knew they were fake and you could clearly see the wire harnesses connected to their backs when they "flew". So it's interesting to note, based on personal experience even at that young age, what's scary to some people and what's not.

I think the scariest movie I'd ever seen in my adolescence was The Exorcist. The mixture of religious imagery the sexual references, and the utter grossness of the film freaked me out. I couldn't sleep after seeing it for days. Unlike vampires whom you could fight with a cross and a wooden stake, or Frankenstein, who walked so slow I always imagined I could outrun him, the Devil was everywhere. There wasn't really anything to fight. Like the scene in The Omen where David Warner's head is lopped off by a large sheet of plate glass.

As you get older, you tend to have more realistic fears. The thugs on the street, someone breaking into your home, the car accident.

In the summers, I usually see several children's films with my kids. This year I haven't seen any. The reason is my youngest saw a poster for Dark Knight and the image of the Joker horrified him. Since then, I haven't been able to get him into the theater to see any film. For him The joker is his Exorcist. I don't blame him. If I were 5 years old, I might feel the same way.

The Leopard was afraid of the dark until I was around 8. My parents allowed me to have a blue light in my room until my older brother finally got fed up and took it away. I'm not sure what I was afraid of, there in the dark. I think the Wicked Witch, ready to fly me away to her dark castle. Never could figure out what she'd want with me, though.

My man Herbie

So let's talk about my man Herbie.

When Herbie Hancock stepped up to the podium and won this year's grammy for album of the year, lots of hip-hoppers everywhere were scratching their heads in a collective "huh"?

They had no idea  that the man they were ogling was one of the most versatile, innovative and important musicians of the 2oth century.  A virtual musical chameleon, My man Herbie was a 7-year old piano prodigy,

soloing with the Chicago Symphony at age 11.

But what makes Herbie one of the baddest cats in all jazz--indeed all of recorded music-- is that he was one of the first musicians to bring electronic instruments up front on major labels and to play them with real human dexterity and warmth.

A devout SGI Buddhist, He brought legitimacy to machines because he's a brilliant acoustic pianist and composer who worked with Miles Davis for years in one of his greatest groups, as well as having recorded many of his own influential and classic solo recordings.

He took a cue from his former employer in the late sixties forming a real jazz funk outfit called Headhunters that outsold any jazz record up until that time, later he did the same damn thing again with the hip-hop influenced Rockit, which became an MTV favorite.

He continues to bounces back and forth between serious jazz  recordings, electronic outings and star studded solo records. 

The Grammy he won for River: The Joni Letters barely scratches the surface of this man's accomplishments, but maybe now he'll get a little more respect from those few who don't already know what time it is. 

Jazz

The Leopard has been thinking lately about that wonderful art form that I've devoted so much of my life to: Jazz.

Not only as a once near fanatical collector and lover of the music, but also it's been a great inspiration to me in almost all facets of my life. For years, I worked for a large institution devoted to jazz; I've written about jazz as a reviewer, and much of my visual art has been connected to the music.

The obsession started as just being someone who simply enjoyed the music. A friend of mine who was a bit more sophisticated than me at the time discovered it first, and we would listen to Miles Davis and Charles Mingus records in his house, taking it all in, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. In addition to the music itself, I enjoyed the visual presentation. The wonderful Blue Note album covers, for example, with their gorgeous introspective photos of the artists which suggested the very epitome of cool. It was one of my greatest inspirations and what probably eventually led me to become a designer.

But the thing that I think I was most attracted to was the idea of creating art with freedom of expression that also translated into a profession--something that people paid to see that was almost as challenging to listen to as to create. I love Jazziz magazine's description, "Art for your ears".

The basis of jazz , improvisation, always held interest to me. I remember digging the Kind of Blue album for the first time, hearing each soloist play off ideas from the melody line of the tune All Blues and thinking about the infinite possibilities each musician could extend their musical imagination within the framework of the tune.

It did more than open my mind up musically, but also as an artist and a creative person. You can build up a traditional framework and playing within the confine of the song, or you can even go further, like latter day John Coltrane or Ornette Coleman or Albert Ayler, and have no boundaries at all; you could veer off into the further reaches of space, without a net. Of course, this can make things challenging for the listener, but those who stick around can be rewarded. That's where jazz I think gets the reputation as "challenging" or "difficult" music. I personally think it's more about listening a little harder and opening yourself up a little.

With the decline compact discs, I fear that in the digital internet landscape jazz may evaporate and the many young up-and-comers won't have the backing of record companies to promote them (honestly though, the truth is many of the major companies had dropped their jazz divisions before the decline of the CD). People will have to seek it out, even for the great masters like Duke Ellington, Louis Armstrong and Charlie Parker. It will take some doing with the massive amount of information floating around, to keep the music going.

When It Comes, It Comes

Many years ago, The Leopard was at a wedding party where I met the Pulitzer Prize winning author, Michael Chabon. He had just written his first published novel, Mysteries of Pittsburgh. (Since that time, he's gone on to write several acclaimed books such as The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Klay and The Wonder Boys, among others).

I was introduced to him by the host, and I was fascinated by his recent status. His book had been well-received. He seemed a quiet, low key personality. Knowing what a daunting task it is to write a novel, I asked him if he ever had writer's block. He seemed taken aback by this. He just sort of looked me up and down, put down his glass, said "no", and walked away. I guessed that I must have hit a nerve.

Later, my friend who had invited me to the party informed me that Chabon told the host he was very angry and insulted by my question. Later, my friend and the host became estranged as a result of this. For years, I thought Chabon had overreacted, especially since he ended up being pretty prolific.

But it has taken me this long to really understand what it takes to do what Chabon does, that is, create a piece of art. Unfortunately, having a little bit of talent alone doesn't account for much. It's motivation and ideas that really clinch it.

The director David Lynch says that ideas are like fish; sometimes it's easy to catch one. Others, you could sit a long, long time and still not get a bite. One thing I would add to that is as you get older, the fish get harder and harder to catch. What used to come so easily seems more precious.

I love to sit down and draw something, but I find so little time that I always feel that I have to have a real purpose or it's not worth the time. I'm beginning to realize now that that's a bad idea; you just have to just do your thing when the mood strikes you. If you wait for the big idea, you could end up like the great writer Ralph Ellison, who wrote Invisible Man, his first and only novel. He received remarkable accolades and the National Book Award in 1953. He then spent the rest of his life trying to write something equally as brilliant. When he died in 1994, strewn around in his study were thousands of pages of rewrites of an unpublished novel. He just thought it none of it was good enough.

So I've learned to just do it. The Big Idea? Well, when it comes, it comes.

The Dark Knight geek-out

I remember as a kid of fourteen & fifteen being totally immersed in the world of superhero, war, horror, even romance comic books. I would get lost in those worlds. When I was reading a really well produced comic with terrific art and a great story, it was as real to me as any good novel, TV show, or film.

My pals and I used to fantasize what it would be like if the movies would get it right, not with the usual "pow/bam" pop art type treatment like on the old 6o's Batman TV show, but with all the nuances and subtleties that the best creators had been putting into the medium for years .

The last time the film industry really nailed it was Spider-man 2, which had to have been created by geeks: not only there were subtle references to the comics sprinkled throughout the film, but also it held the true drama of the original strip, the emotion. It's something that only a true fan (i.e. the director Sam Raimi) would recognize and appreciate.

Now, having seen The Dark Knight, I know there are even more people out there who know how to get it right. Not just in look and mood, but that one element which is always left out when discussing comic books: intelligence.

The screenplay for this film is probably the most ambitious ever for a film of this type.   It goes well beyond its pulp origins into Shakesperean proportions--without the pretense.

I won't go into the details of the story here, because The Leopard knows almost half the world has already gone out and seen it--and many of us will again--but suffice to say the film is terrific, almost flawless. Heath Ledger's rendering of The Joker does not disappoint. It has a sly, subtle razor edge that no one portraying the character has so far explored.  Christian Bale, now comfortable in his bat skin, is more than up to the task of handling the script's new found complexities.  The moral compass of the piece is  the fine, layered work of Aaron Eckhart, the most perfect Two Face one could imagine.  All the actors--Maggie Gyllenhaal, Morgan Freeman, Gary Oldman, and Michael Caine--are uniformly inspired, and are all given enough screen time to shine.

But the true hero for me of  The Dark Knight is director Christopher Nolan--his balance of comic book legend,  deep understanding of the possibilities of cinema, and an acute sense of  drama has created one of the very best superhero movies ever made.