How is it even possible?

Ok perhaps this is just rank sentimentalism, but after downloading Brubeck's Time Out and giving it a good relisten, I am just feeling all nostalgic. (See my Meadowlark post). SO I decided that it might be cool to have a copy of the print on the cover. I do a little research and find that it is a painting by S. Neil Fujita, who is apparently a legendary graphic artist. He also did the album cover for Mingus Ah Um, which is among the greatest jazz albums of all time IMHO.

SO I start looking for this guy online. I find all these articles and books that make reference to him and that he was this legendary, influential graphic artist, but I cannot find any prints. No websites dedicated to his work. Only one image. How is it even possible that this guy who was this legendary figure in his field has less of a web presence than I do. Maybe he doesn't own his art? Anyway here are cool images.

Oh and How is it that one of the most accessible to the mainstream jazz albums starts with a tune in 9/8 (Blue Rondo a la Turk)and the most familiar tune on the album is in 5/4(Take Five)? So complex and weird, yet not jarring in the least. And that drum solo that stretches and contracts to time signature? Solid gas and groove, daddy.

Here's Dave and the boys playing "Blue Rondo a la Turk" going back and forth from 9/8 to 4/4. Crazy. The 4/4 kicks in at 1:54.




And if you're interested, here is a clip from Jazz Casual of "Take Five" in 5/4.

How My Dead Father is a Strange Meadowlark

My pop died a few months ago. Hit me pretty hard. Though he was a fairly unashamed racist, it never dominated his personality. You thought of him as just a good guy. He was a hard drinking man, and just the best kind. Never maudlin, always loving and friendly(unless you lived with him). Anyway he and I were very close. He loved my music and went to great pains to let me know that he got it. When I would play at family gatherings, he alone would listen to all of it. Everyone else would listen and appreciate and then drift into conversation, but he just had a . . . thirst for it all. He wanted all he could get of that.

I would bring him albums and cd's I thought he would like. One day I played a song for him. It was the second cut on Brubeck's Time Out. I told him that it just reminded me of his personality. He was really interested. I started the song. It starts with this extended solo intro. Just Dave playing all romantically. The old man looks at me--he likes it ok but it certainly is not him. But then Dave wraps up and descends in these block chords and the drums come in to back Paul Desmond's lush sax solo. Tears are in my pop's eyes. He gets it. It's cool, relaxed, smooth, knowing. It's my dad the way he wants to see himself. It was a great moment for us.

I never really knew the name of that tune although I could probably play the melody by memory. A few days ago, I downloaded that album into my I-Tunes. The tune is called Strange Meadowlark. Apparently the first phrase of notes are based on the call of the Meadowlarks Dave grew up listening to in California. It struck me as funny, and a bit ironic. One of the only black celebrities that I remember my dad just unreservedly loving was Meadowlark Lemon of the Harlem Globetrotters.

Here's "Strange Meadow Lark" by Dave Brubeck.