Cannibal Ate It All

There are times at local jazz clubs, as I sit ensconced in a sea of homely, balding men, that I begin to wonder whether I couldn’t put my interest in jazz to more lucrative employ, perhaps as a sort of male anti-fertility treatment. After all, there are few less effectual methods of ensuring sterility, seclusion and the general enmity of women than jazz. Multiple vasectomies and advanced dementia, you might say. But surely such operations are costly and ineffectual, and the difficulties of self-inducing mental derangement seem to speak for themselves. Consider, on the other hand, that the cover charge at Small’s is only $20, including a drink of your choice and an iron-clad guarantee that your bed will not be shared by another living being (no, not even an animal) for at least a week (this being the bare minimum).

I wonder also whether a bit more light-heartedness and progressivity wouldn’t help to attract new listeners to the tattered remnants of today’s jazz scene, and it is precisely at times like these that my mind wanders to (alcohol. And) figures like Cannonball Adderley.

Julian “Cannonball” Adderley (the name Cannonball was a corruption of a childhood moniker, Cannibal. Because he was fat. Fat people eat a lot. Get it?) was born in Tampa, Florida, in 1928, and grew up studying alto saxophone under his father, a trumpet player and high school music director. Cannonball initially followed in his father’s footsteps, teaching at the Dillard High School in Fort Lauderdale, but soon found himself in New York, where his innovative brand of soulful playing made him an instant hit among musicians and jazz fans alike. In addition to being a remarkably skilled player, Cannonball was also one of jazz’ most publicly beloved personalities. His hard-grooving, soulful compositions won him many admirers, but just as many were drawn by his amiable, easy-going character—a holdover from his days as a teacher; in fact, many fans attended Cannonball’s live performances simply to hear his charmingly discursive and didactic pre-set rap sessions, like this one, an intro (from a separate recording) to the track following it, Jive Samba.

Though Cannon may be most widely known for his work with Miles Davis’ famous late-fifties sextet (Kind of Blue), the three videos posted here are taken from the early sixties, when Cannon was leading his own sextet, featuring, among others, a young Joe Zawinul (who would later go on to found Weather Report) on piano. The sextet achieved great success for a jazz group, and continued in various iterations (finally as a quintet) up until Cannonball’s death.

Work Song

Cannonball Adderley died in 1975 after suffering a stroke. He was a consummate musician and spokesperson for America’s only original art form, and his loss is still felt today.

Jessica's Birthday

--Chris C

FOOT-FACED JOAN

As a young college grad slowly realizing exactly how much his liberal arts degree is worth, I’ve been spending copious amounts of time holed up in my parents’ house watching opera clips on that big daddy of all time occupiers: youtube. For those of you who aren’t aware, you can find clips of almost every well-known or well-liked vocalist and most operas on youtube, each followed by pages of comments made by various queens, opera aficionados, and idiots who take themselves too seriously. The last category is of course the largest and most inclusive. Recently I came across a clip of Joan Sutherland and Marilyn Horne, two of the opera’s best and most accomplished singers (at least since the popularization of recording devices), performing the famous flower duet from Delibes’ Lakme.



Beneath the clip, Sutherland fans are out in full force. One post by icuguyz says “Joan Sutherland has the face of a foot, but by God, her voice is positively heavenly...Truley magnificent.” Spelling errors aside, icuguyz is right. Joan’s faces does look surprisingly like a foot. Of course the outraged Sutherland fan HeathsGyrrrl responds immediately, “what a stupid and ignorant thing to say.” First off, this is a totally run-of-the-mill youtube rebuttal… redundant and reactionary. Secondly, who the hell cares? Older Joan Sutherland has a large square chin which makes her face look like a foot. Her hair is out of control, and I won’t even get started on that crazy gown. Also, she doesn’t even sound that great. She is one of those operatic miracles who took amazing care of her voice throughout her career and never lost it. However, even La Stupenda (as she’s called) is going to develop a looser vibrato and a more covered or “full” sound by the age of 60. Just compare this 1964 performance of ardon gl’ incensi – a piece of the famous mad scene from Lucia di Lamermoor – recorded just 6 years after she burst onto the scene with an amazing performance of the same role at the Metropolitan Opera.



Everything is clearer, her vibrato is quicker, and she sounds nicer. She’s also a hell of a lot younger. The thing Sutherland fans don’t get is that just because we think Joan’s a little funny in her old lady phase doesn’t mean we don’t appreciate how amazing an artist she really was. Also as a side note, Marilyn Horne is to me a much more impressive example of a great voice aging well. I’m tired of seeing comment after comment of people oooing and ahhhing over Sutherland’s mastery in her later years. Yeah she’s great for a senior citizen, but that doesn’t mean I want to watch her play the role of a young mechanical doll



I know her admirers want to love everything she ever did, but I think it’s just as important to be able to lighten up, take a step back from fanaticism, and recognize the outline of a foot.

-- Mike P