Poet's Corner- Langston Hughes- Black Liberation Fighter, "Pre-Mature Anti-Fascist" and Poet

Poet's Corner- Langston Hughes- Black Liberation Fighter, "Pre-Mature Anti-Fascist" and Poet

Commentary

February Is Black History Month


The name Langston Hughes is forever linked to the poetic form of the blues, the Harlem Renaissance and the struggle for black liberation. Less well know is his role an "pre-mature anti-fascist" volunteer with the American Abraham Lincoln Battalion of the 15th International Brigade in Spain, organized by the Communist International to defend republican Spain. That is why he is honored in this space today. That he later distanced himself from his earlier attachment to communism, as he saw it, does not negate that when it counted he was counted in. Hughes was hardly the first, nor would he be the last, to break from his radical past. We honor that past and fight against the politics of his later turn.

This article by Langston Hughes is from the newspaper of the Abraham Lincoln Battalion in Spain

"Negroes in Spain," from The Volunteer for Liberty (1937)

In July, on the boat with me coming from New York, there was a Negro from the far West on his way to Spain as a member of the 9th Ambulance Corps of the American Medical Bureau. He was one of a dozen in his unit of American doctors, nurses, and ambulance drivers offering their services to Spanish Democracy.

When I reached Barcelona a few weeks later, in time for my first air-raid and the sound of bombs falling on a big city, on of the first people I met was a young Porto Rican of color acting as interpreter for the Loyalist troops.
A few days later in Valencia, I came across two intelligent, young colored men from the West Indies, aviators, who had come to give their services to the fight against Fascism.

ALL FIGHT FASCISM

And now, in Madrid, Spain's besieged capital, I've met wide-awake Negroes from various parts of the world -- New York, our Middle West, the French West Indies, Cuba, Africa -- some stationed here, others on leave from their battalions -- all of them here because they know that if Fascism creeps across Spain, across Europe, and then across the world, there will be no more place for intelligent young Negroes at all. In fact, no decent place for any Negroes -- because Fascism preaches the creed of Nordic supremacy and a world for whites alone.

In Spain, there is no color prejudice. Here in Madrid, heroic and bravest of cities, Madrid where the shells of Franco plow through the roof-tops at night, Madrid where you can take a street car to the trenches, this Madrid whose defense lovers of freedom and democracy all over the world have sent food and money and men -- here to this Madrid have come Negroes from all the world to offer their help.

"DELUDED MOORS"

On the opposite side of the trenches with Franco, in the company of the professional soldiers of Germany, and the illiterate troops of Italy, are the deluded and drive Moors of North Africa. An oppressed colonial people of color being used by Fascism to make a colony of Spain. And they are being used ruthlessly, without pity. Young boys, mean from the desert, old men, and even women, compose the Moorish hordes brought by the reactionaries from Africa to Europe in their attempt to crush the Spanish people.

I did not know about the Moorish women until, a few days ago I went to visit a prison hospital here in Madrid filled with wounded prisoners. There were German aviators that bombarded the peaceful village of Colmenar Viejo and machine-gunned helpless women as they fled along the road. One of these aviators spoke English. I asked him why he fired on women and children. He said he was a professional soldier who did what he was told. In another ward, there were Italians who joined the invasion of Spain because they had no jobs at home.

WHAT THEY SAID

But of all the prisoners, I was most interested in the Moors, who are my own color. Some of them, convalescent, in their white wrappings and their bandages, moved silently like dark shadows down the hall. Other lay quietly suffering in their beds. It was difficult to carry on any sort of conversation with them because they spoke little or no Spanish. But finally, we came across a small boy who had been wounded at the battle of Brunete -- he looked to be a child of ten or eleven, a bright smiling child who spoke some Spanish.

"Where did you come from?", I said.

He named a town I could not understand in Morocco.

"And how old are you?"

"Thirteen," he said.

"And how did you happen to be fighting in Spain?"

BRING MOORISH WOMEN

Then I learned from this child that Franco had brought Moorish women into Spain as well as men -- women to wash and cook for the troops.

"What happened to your mother", I said.

The child closed his eyes. "She was killed at Brunete," he answered slowly.
Thus the Moors die in Spain, men, women, and children, victims of Fascism, fighting not for freedom -- but against freedom -- under a banner that holds only terror and segregation for all the darker peoples of the earth.

A great many Negroes know better. Someday the Moors will know better, too. All the Franco's in the world cannot blow out the light of human freedom.



The Weary Blues

Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,
Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,
I heard a Negro play.
Down on Lenox Avenue the other night
By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light
He did a lazy sway ....
He did a lazy sway ....
To the tune o' those Weary Blues.
With his ebony hands on each ivory key
He made that poor piano moan with melody.
O Blues!
Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool
He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool.
Sweet Blues!
Coming from a black man's soul.
O Blues!
In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone
I heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan--
"Ain't got nobody in all this world,
Ain't got nobody but ma self.
I's gwine to quit ma frownin'
And put ma troubles on the shelf."

Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor.
He played a few chords then he sang some more--
"I got the Weary Blues
And I can't be satisfied.
Got the Weary Blues
And can't be satisfied--
I ain't happy no mo'
And I wish that I had died."
And far into the night he crooned that tune.
The stars went out and so did the moon.
The singer stopped playing and went to bed
While the Weary Blues echoed through his head.
He slept like a rock or a man that's dead.


Dream Deferred

What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?

Langston Hughes

Freedom Road

written by: Langston Hughes, sung by:Josh White

Hand me my gun, let the bugle blow loud
I’m on my way with my head up proud
One objective I’ve got in view
Is to keep ahold of freedom for me and you

That’s why I’m marching, yes, I’m marching
Marching down Freedom’s Road
Ain’t nobody gonna stop me, nobody gonna keep me
From marching down Freedom’s Road

It ought to be plain as the nose on your face
There’s room in this land for every race
Some folks think that freedom just ain’t right
Those are the very people I want to fight . . .

United we stand, divided we fall
Let’s make this land safe for one and all
I’ve got a message and you know it’s right
Black and white together, unite and fight!

On The Sixtieth Anniversary Of Her Death-Lady Day-Billie Holiday- She Took Our Pain Away Despite Her Own Pains- *For Sax Man Johnny Hodge's 112th Birthday-Blowing The High White Note-Tenor Sax Man Blow Me That High White Note- Johnny Hodges Is In The House

Click on the headline to link to a "YouTube" film clip of Johnny Hodges blowing that high white note.

CD Review

Johnny Hodges Story:1929-1946, Johnny Hodges and a list of classic jazz greats, The Jazz Archives Collection Number 114, 1990

I never tire of telling the tale of how “Lady Day”, Billie Holiday was my entry point into the world of jazz, or rather that bluesy form of jazz that got meshed together in her voice, even that old-drug-addled voice that took its toll in more than one way. Well, Lady Day did not sing unaccompanied, at least not much, and so I would hear some sax man or trumpeter or drummer behind here and say who the heck is that blowing those high white notes. And when it came to the sax, more often than not, it would be Johnny Hodges giving body to the lyrics.

And then when I got really interested in Duke Ellington around the time of the centenary of his birth I kept saying who the heck is that blowing those same high white notes and guess what. Ya, Johnny. What more needs to be said, except to give a few of the highs of this compilation done by the excellent Jazz Archives people. Give a listen to Ellington’s “In A Mellotone”, “Hodges’ “Grievin’, and “Don’t Be That Way”. Then you ‘ll kick yourself like I do for not being OLD enough to have been able to be in some New York Jazz café and hear this stuff live. Wow.

On The Sixtieth Anniversary Of Her Death-Lady Day-Billie Holiday- She Took Our Pain Away Despite Her Own Pains- *For Sax Man Johnny Hodge's 112th Birthday-Blowing The High White Note- When The Jazz Age Was In Full Bloom- Duke Ellington At Harlem’s Cotton Club

Click on the headline to link to a "Wikipedia" entry for the Cotton Club in New York mentioned below, including information about its racial profile.

CD Review

Jungle Nights In Harlem, Duke Ellington and his Cotton Club Orchestra: 1927-1933, Bluebird, 1991

As I have mentioned in previous reviews of various classical jazz artists I came to an appreciation of that musical art from one source, and one source only- Lady Day, Billie Holiday. Along the way I started to get interested in her various back-up musicians which led me to the likes of Lester Young, Johnny Hodges, Artie Shaw and others. And, of course, when you get to Johnny Hodges you naturally have to think of the Duke- Ellington that is. And there you have it, except, that I doubled, no I tripled, my appreciation of the Duke around the time of the centenary of his birthday in 1999.

And I was not wrong to do so, although the CD under review falls more into a piece of jazz history, black musical history, Jazz Age history, Harlem history and, most importantly, Cotton Club history than a source of understanding his huge place in the jazz pantheon. For those unfamiliar with that New York City venue, the Cotton Club, that is the place when all the jazz greats of the 1920s and 1930s aspired to perform- and whites, at least certain whites like those rich ones that the author F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote about, went to “kick up their heels”, “get their kicks”, and, maybe, get “kicked” away from the downtown squares. And Duke and his orchestra (including the afore-mentioned Johnny Hodges, Barney Bigard, Harry Carney, and Cootie Williams among others) was the most serious feature in those days. Wouldn’t you pay big money, and gladly, to hear that sound in those surroundings? I think so.

Now, just a note for history's sake, or for the sake of a nod to political correctness. The term “jungle music” has always, as far as I know, had negative connotations about black music or black-related music like rock and roll, and still does. But, my friends, these were the terms of usage for what was going on then so accept it as a piece of history. But, also know this: do not miss out on a piece of our common history, jazz, racial, and social by missing Duke and the guys performing “Mood Indigo”, “Black and Tan Fantasy”, or “The Duke Steps Out” and the others here.

*The Torch Singer's Torch Singer -The Sixtieth Anniversary Of Her Death-Lady Day-Billie Holiday- She Took Our Pain Away Despite Her Own Pains

Click on the headline to link to a YouTube film clip of Billie Holiday performing Strange Fruit.

DVD REVIEW

Billie’s Best, Polygram Records, 1992

In my book, and I am hardly alone on this, Billie Holiday is the torch singer's torch singer. Maybe it is the phrasing on her best songs. That well-placed hush. Maybe it is the unbreakable link between her voice when she is on a roll and the arrangements. Hell, maybe in the end it was the dope but, by Jesus, she could sing a modern ballad of love, lost or both like no other. And if it was the dope, let me say this- a `normal' nice singer could sing for a hundred years and never get it right, the way Billie could get it right when she was at her best. Dope or no dope. Was she always at her best? Hell no, as the current compilation makes clear. These recordings done between 1945 and her death in 1959 for Verve show the highs but also the lows as the voice faltered a little and the dope put the nerves on edge toward the end.

Many of the songs on the current compilation are technically sound, a few not, as is to be expected on such re-mastering. You will like Come Rain or Come Shine, Stars Fell On Alabama and Stormy Blues. A tear will come to your eye with Some Other Spring and East of the Sun. The surprise of the package is Speak Low, a sultry song with tropical background beat. That one is very good, indeed.

One last word- I have occasionally mentioned my love of Billie Holiday's music to younger acquaintances. Some of their responses reflecting, I think, the influence of the movie version of her life (Lady Sings the Blues with Diana Ross) or some unsympathetic black history 'uplift' type views on her life have written her off as an 'addled' doper. Here is my rejoinder- If when I am blue and need a pick me-up and put on a Billie platter (CD)and feel better then, my friends, I do not give a damn about the dope. Enough said.

On The Sixtieth Anniversary Of Her Death-Lady Day-Billie Holiday- She Took Our Pain Away Despite Her Own Pains- *Lady Sings The Blues-Billie Holiday, Natch

Click on the headline to link to a YouTube film clip of Billie Holiday performing Strange Fruit.

CD REVIEW

The Quintessential Billie Holiday, Volume 9, (1940-1942) Billie Holiday, Columbia, 1991

In my book, and I am hardly alone on this, Billie Holiday is the torch singer's torch singer. Maybe it is the phrasing on her best songs. That well-placed hush. Maybe it is the unbreakable link between her voice when she is on a roll and the arrangements. Hell, maybe in the end it was the dope but, by Jesus, she could sing a modern ballad of love, lost or both like no other. And if it was the dope, let me say this- a `normal' nice singer could sing for a hundred years and never get it right, the way Billie could get it right when she was at her best. Dope or no dope. Was she always at her best? These recordings done between 1940 and 1942 show the highs. Billie had mastered her trade.

Many of the songs on the current compilation are technically sound, a few not, as is to be expected on such re-mastering. You will like Am I Blue and In My Solitude. Can anyone every do a Cole Porter song better than Billie on Let's Do It. Or the phrasing of Johnny Mercer's Mandy and Me. Damn.

One last word- I have occasionally mentioned my love of Billie Holiday's music to younger acquaintances. Some of their responses reflecting, I think, the influence of the movie version of her life (Lady Sings the Blues with Diana Ross) or some unsympathetic black history 'up lift' type views on her life have written her off as an 'addled' doper. Here is my rejoinder- If when I am blue and need a pick me-up and put on a Billie platter (CD)and feel better then, my friends, I do not give a damn about the dope. Enough said.

The Quintessential Billie Holiday, Volume 6, (1938) Billie Holiday, Columbia, 1991


Many of the songs on this compilation are technically sound, a few not, as is to be expected on such re-mastering. For examples of what I mean by what I said in the first paragraph of this review check out the playfulness of You Go to My Head and If I Were You. The sentiment of The Very Thought of You and I Got a Date With A Dream. Hey, I don’t even usually like these kinds of songs composed by the masters of Tin Pan Alley but they had me had me humming along. That tells the tale here.

On The Sixtieth Anniversary Of Her Death-Lady Day-Billie Holiday- She Took Our Pain Away Despite Her Own Pains- *Jumpin’ And Jivin’, Indeed- All Out In The Age Of The Big Bands

Click on title to link to YouTube's film clip of Cab Calloway performing "Minnie The Moocher".

DVD Review

Jumping& Jivin’: The Jazz Classics From The Big Band Era, Volume One, Cab Calloway, Lena Horne, Fats Waller and various other bandleaders and sidemen, Acorn Media, 2007.

I recently reviewed the work, in his prime in the 1960s, of jazz guitarist Wes Montgomery. There I noted that my interest in jazz, as such, was at the many places where jazz and the blues intersect. This volume of jazz- centered music from the big band era of the 1940s is a prime example of that statement. Not all of the twenty plus “soundies” (the old time version of MTV-type music videos for the benefit of the younger reader) from the 1940s and early 1950s here derives from the blues but a good number do. The compilers of this DVD have put, in one place at one time, many of the best big bands from that era, including Duke Ellington, Billy Eckstine and Count Basie. The production values on some of the material is not great but you are getting this for its look at cultural history, warts and all.

Moreover, there are two performers who perked my interest from the blues perspective. One was the incredible performances of Mr. Cab Calloway in his classic “Minnie The Moocher” and the, well, bluesy “Blues In The Night”. I last recall seeing old Cab in the original John Belushi “Blues Brothers” film from the 1980s. That was nothing compared to these performances in his prime. Watch this. The other outstanding performance here is from Lena Horne. Yes, I know, I am supposed to be true-blue to Ms. Billie Holiday. And I am. Except last year I heard Lena doing “Stormy Weather” on a 1940s CD compilation and was blown away. Here on her “soundie” “Unlucky Woman” she does so again. So call me perfidious, okay.

"Minnie the Moocher" -Cab Calloway

folk's here's the story 'bout Minnie the Moocher
she was a red hot hoochie coocher
she was the roughest, toughest frail
but Minnie had a heart a big as a whale

(hidey-hi's!)

she messed around with a bloke named Smokey
she loved him, though he was coke-y
he took her down to Chinatown
and he showed her how to kick the gong around

(hidey-hi's!)

she had a dream about the King of Sweden
he gave her things that she was needin'
gave her a home built of gold and steel
a diamond car, with the platinum wheels

(fast hidey-hi's!)

he gave her a townhouse and his racing horses
each meal she ate was a dozen courses
she had a million dollars worth of nickels and dimes
she sat around and counted them a million times

(hidey-hi's, one mo' 'gain!)

poor min, poor min, poor min!


"Unlucky Woman"

I was born on Friday, married on Friday too
Yes I was born on Friday, married on Friday too
But I didn't believe in jinxes till the day that I met you

I don't want no more lovin', I'd rather be all alone
No i don't want no more lovin', I'd rather be all alone
So when payday comes around, I can call my money my own

Now love is just a gamble, it's just like shootin' dice
But it's my bad luck that I got snake eyes twice
I'm an unlucky woman, guess I was born that way
And if anyone can change me, they can move right in today

I don't want no more excuses, I don't want no jive
I wouldn't want you daddy if you was the last man alive
I've learned my lesson, and I've learned it just in time
Good luck will never find me, till I cross you off my mind

On The Sixtieth Anniversary Of Her Death-Lady Day-Billie Holiday- She Took Our Pain Away Despite Her Own Pains- *Step Back- Earl "Fatha" Hines Is In The House

Click on the headline to link to a "Wikipedia" entry for the great jazz pianist, Earl "Fatha" Hines.

Markin comment:

My jazz vocabulary is rather limited to these classic guys like Duke, Lady Day, the Count, and other royalty, including one Earl "Fatha" Hines. Wow!

Number One Songs—Stormy Monday Blues

This is one of the most unusual #1 song stories ever. You see, "Stormy Monday Blues" was a #1 R&B hit in 1942 by jazz greats Earl "Fatha" Hines and Billy Eckstein.

But the song "Stormy Monday" or "They Call It Stormy Monday," written by blues guitar legend T-Bone Walker and first recorded in 1947, is a much more famous and covered song, and has come to be known as "Stormy Monday Blues." While both are structurally blues compositions, they are not the same song at all.




Here is the first verse of the Hines-Eckstein song:


Stormy Monday Blues Lyrics
(Words and Music by Earl Hines, Billy Eckstein and Bob Crowder)


It's gone and started raining
I'm as lonesome as a man can be
It's gone and started raining
I'm as lonesome as a man can be
Cause every time it rains
I real-ize what you mean...


It is the T-Bone Walker song that begins, "They call it stormy Monday, but Tuesday's just as bad...."


Among music lovers, there seemingly isn't much confusion about the songs because most simply don't know the 1942 "Stormy" song, even though it was a #1 hit.


But "They Call It Stormy Monday" is universally known despite only reaching #5 on the R&B charts in 1948!


Although the confusing titles are a moot point to the public, as "They Call It Stormy Monday" is clearly the definitive "Stormy Monday" song, the similarity of song titles has been a nightmare for the writers and publishers of the songs, as performance royalties have often been mis-applied.


"Trouble ensued when artists named ["They Call It Stormy Monday"] "Stormy Monday Blues," [on records]...as for instance Bobby Bland did on a well-known rendition, as it was mis-credited and royalties went to the Hines-Eckstine song rather than Walker's. This may have also happened on some of the treatments that were just called "Stormy Monday." —Wikipedia


"They Call It Stormy Monday" has been recorded hundreds of times by a wide array of artists, most notably by Bobby "Blue" Bland in the 60s and the Allman Brothers in 1971 on their widely-acclaimed classic album At Fillmore East.


"The original recording appeared on Black & White Records, produced by Ralph Bass, and was one of [T-Bone] Walker's breakthrough sides in pioneering the idiom of electric blues guitar...B.B. King has said that 'Call It Stormy Monday' inspired him to begin playing electric guitar." —Wikipedia


SIDEBAR: Stormy Monday is also the title of a 1988 feature film starring Sean Bean, Tommy Lee Jones, Sting and Melanie Griffith.


(They Call It) Stormy Monday Lyrics
(Words and Music by T-Bone Walker)


They call it stormy Monday, but Tuesday's just as bad
They call it stormy Monday, but Tuesday's just as bad
Wednesday's worse, and Thursday's also sad


Yes the eagle flies on Friday, and Saturday I go out to play
Eagle flies on Friday, and Saturday I go out to play
Sunday I go to church, then I kneel down and pray


Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy on me
Lord have mercy, my heart's in misery
Crazy about my baby, yes, send her back to me

**************

On The Sixtieth Anniversary Of Her Death-Lady Day-Billie Holiday- She Took Our Pain Away Despite Her Own Pains- *It Don't Mean A Thing If You Ain't Got That Swing- The Birthday Centenary Of Swing's Artie Shaw

Click on the headline to link to a "Wikipedia" entry for jazz man and mad clarinetist Artie Shaw.


Markin comment:

There is a question of who was the better clarinetist, Artie Shaw or Benny Goodman, among classical jazz aficionados (although one should not exclude Duke Ellington's sideman, Barney Bigard, in that mix). There is, however, no dispute over who had the better swing band in the 1930s- Artie hands down (including with Billie Holiday as vocalist, for a short time). For those, by the way, unfamiliar with swing that was the "bad" teenage-driven music that your grandparents, or parents, listened to away from their parents. You know, the music of the youth tribe like rock and roll for my generation or, maybe, hip-hop for this generation.

What's In A Name, Woody Allen?

DVD REVIEW

Zelig, Woody Allen, 1983

Trying to figure out a header for this review epitomizes the problems that I have with this very middling Woody Allen film. Readers of this space know that I have done many reviews of Allen’s films, as actor, director or both but this one annoys me no end. In short, not all Woody Allen movies are created equal. The premise behind this one is potentially interesting, perhaps more so today than when the film was originally produced- a send up of our celebrity-crazed society. With Allen as a human chameleon in the Jazz Age there certainly were possibilities for a funny look at how the geeks looked at a fellow geek but it falls flat. Why? I believe that here Allen just went back and found every sign gag and cliché that he had already used in many previous films- the obligatory nod (or is it finger?) to Freud, Marx, the New York intelligentsia (here Irving Howe of Dystenary fame and Susan Sontag), Jewish childhoods, fascination with gentile women (here Mia Farrow, as an chain smoking experimental psychiatrist) and so forth. If this list sounds familiar to Allen fans then you have the sense of my feelings on this film. Woody flat ran out of steam on this one. Fortunately, there is plenty of other better work by Allen to pick from. Do so.

Out Of The Be-Bop Retro-Jazz Age 2000s Night- Woody Allen’s “Midnight In Paris”

Click on the headline to link to a Wikipedia entry for Woody Allen’s Midnight In Paris

DVD Review

Midnight In Paris, starring Owen Wilson, Rachael McAdams, written and directed by Woody Allen, Sony Picture Classics, 2011


Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, Scott and Zelda (no last name needed for Jazz Age aficionados, right?), Cole Porter, T.S. Eliot, Man Ray, Pablo Picasso, hell even Djuana Barnes are names from the Jazz Age and the American post- World War I expatriate night that get bandied about in Woody Allen’s 2011 comedic effort, Midnight In Paris. There were plenty of other names dropped as well but the above popped out in memory’s eye and serve my point. This film is a paean to that by-gone age just far enough back for Woody (and me) to not have been splashed by the Jazz Age karma but wishing, wishing like crazy, we could have lived at that time –in that city, Paris and been washed by the spectacular antics and struggles that went on there to create a modern literary and cultural world. And in the end that is Woody’s point, as he has one of his throw-back jazz Age characters pine for an even earlier time- the last quarter of the 19th century-La Belle Epogue. Nice spin, Woody.

But to the plot that brings this whole thing together in magic realistic way and without being too ham-handed on the “moral”. Woody (oops) Gil (played with some Woody-like physical and expressive mannerism by Owen Wilson) is a thoroughly modern frustrated Hollywood screenwriter who yearns to write the great American novel, or at least something other than the drivel that passes for language in most of his screenwriting. He and his fiancée, Inez (played by Rachael McAdams), are in Paris on a lark before getting married. Gil loves Paris, his version of Paris, the Paris of the American ex –pat 1920s Jazz Age when the great creative spirits of the early 20th century held forth and lit up the cultural post-war wasteland night. Inez is a little, no, a lot more bourgeois, and just wants Gil to keep making the kale so they can afford that high-end La-La land lifestyle. This will not be a match made in heaven, no question.

Gil though through cinematic magical realism finds his way back to the Paris of the 1920s around midnight each night and from there is able to find his true self, or what he thinks is his true self. Naturally a women (Pablo Picasso’s, mistress, or one of them) is there to goad him along but also to pose the question about what craving for earlier unattainable times mean. In the end Gil is “liberated” from Inez (she was two-timing him anyway with some pedantic prof) and can walk the rainy 2010s streets of Paris and really make his literary breakthrough. This is one of Woody’s better recent efforts. Proof. A person whom I respect very much as a cinematic aficionado said this is the first Woody Allen film that she could sit through to the end and wish that it didn’t end. High praise indeed.

*For Johnny Hodges; 112th Birthday- The Swing Era- When Clarinetist Barney Bigard Held Forth

Click on the headline to link to a "YouTube" film clip of Barney Bigard and his trio performing "Steps Step Down".

CD Review

An Introduction to Barney Bigard; His Best Recordings, Barney Bigard, Best of Jazz: The Swing Era Series, 1995

As I have mentioned in previous reviews of various classical jazz artists I came to an appreciation of that musical art from one source, and one source only- Lady Day, Billie Holiday. Along the way I started to get interested in her various back-up musicians which led me to the likes of Lester Young, Johnny Hodges, Artie Shaw and others. And, of course, when you get to Johnny Hodges you naturally have to think the Duke- Ellington that is. And when you get to Duke then you have to delve into his various formations from trios up to orchestra and along the way, clarinetist Barney Bigard

Now, for those not familiar with the swing era in jazz, or know swing and the place of the clarinet in it mainly through the great work of Benny Goodman, then Barney Bigard may not be known to you. However, those who know jazz better than I do say, pound for pound, Barney was a better clarinetist. I will leave that for the aficionados but in this CD you will get many of his great performances with various Duke Ellington group configurations and a few of his own compositions so YOU can judge. That is the beauty of this Best of Jazz Series-each artist gets to strut his or her stuff and then we can fight it out over virtuosity. Check it out.

In Honor Of Johnny Hodges 112th Birthday-From The Archives (2009)The Duke Is Rockin’ His Castle- In Honor Of The 110th Birthday Anniversary Of Duke Ellington

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Duke Ellington And His Band Performing "C Jam Blues"

CD Review

In Honor Of The 110th Birthday Anniversary Of Duke Ellington

Duke Ellington: The Blanton-Webster Band, 1940-42, Bluebird, 1986

Those who follow the reviews in this space may have read a response to a commenter that I wrote recently in reviewing John Cohen’s (from the old folk group The New Lost City Ramblers) “There Is No Eye: Music For Photographs” CD. That CD contained many country blues, urban folk, city blues and rural mountain musical treats (as well as a little tribute to the “beats” of the 1950’s). The gist of my comment was an attempt to draw a connection between my leftist sympathies and the search for American roots music that has driven many of my reviews lately. That said, no one, at least no one with any sense of the American past can deny the importance of the emergence of jazz as a quintessentially American black music form of expression. In short, roots music. And if you want to look at the master, or at least one of the masters (if you need to include King Oliver and Louis Armstrong, as well), of the early years of this genre then look no further- you are home. Duke is in his castle.

Now I am by no means a jazz aficionado. In fact, if anything, I am a Johnnie-come- lately to an appreciation of jazz. More to the point as a youth I never really liked it (except some of the more bluesy-oriented pieces that I would occasionally hear like Armstrong’s “Potato Blues” that I was crazy for when I first heard them) as against the other musical genres that I was interested in. Then, with all the hoopla over Duke’s 100th birthday anniversary ten years ago, in 1999, I decided to investigate further. I had to ask someone what would be a good CD of Duke’s to listen to. This Blanton-Webster Band of 1940-42 was what was suggested. And that person was not wrong. This thing is hot, extremely hot.

Remember these Ellington tone poems, that is all I can think to call them, were done back in the day when dukes, counts, kings, queens and empresses ruled the jazz empire. Others may have their favorites from this period but can one really beat a jazz combo that has Cootie Williams, Barney Bigard, Harry Carney, Jimmy Blanton, Ben Webster and my favorite Ellington player, tenor sax man Johnny Hodges, on it. You had better go “big” if you’re going to beat that group of talented musicians. Okay, what about the pieces. On Disc One how about a jumping “Jack The Bear, “Ko-Ko’, “Dusk” and “In A Mellotone”. On Disc Two “Five O’clock Whistle”, the classic “Take The “A” Train”, “I Got It Bad (And That Ain't Good) and “Blue Serge”. On Disc Three, a sultry carib-flavored “Moon Over Cuba”, the sardonic “Rocks In My Bed”, “Perdido”, the haunting “Moon Mist” and the famous “Sentimental Lady”. Nice. I may not be a jazz aficionado but that isn’t a bad list, is it?

Out Of The Swing And Sway 1920s Jazz Night- F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “The Basil And Josephine Stories”

Click on the headline to link to a Wikipedia entry for F. Scott Fitzgerald's Basil and Josephine Stories.

Book Review

The Basil and Josephine Stories, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Scribner’s, New York, 1973

The name F. Scott Fitzgerald is no stranger to this space as the master writer of one of the great American novels of the 20th century, The Great Gatsby. And as one of the key players (many of them spending time in self-imposed European exile) in American literature in the so-called Jazz Age in the aftermath of World War I. For this writer he formed, along with Ernest Hemingway, John Dos Passos, and a little, Dorothy Parker and Gertrude Stein the foundation for modern American writing. But that recognition was a later development, far later, because I knew of Fitzgerald’s work long before I had read any of his (or the others, for that matter) better known works. I knew the Basil and Josephine stories well before that.

As a kid in the 1950s the library that I spent many an hour in was divided, as they are in most libraries even today, into children’s and adult’s sections. At that time there was something of a Chinese Wall between the two sections in the form of a stern old librarian who made sure that kids, sneaky kids like me didn’t go into that forbidden adult section until the proper time (after sixth grade as I recall). The Basil and Josephine stories were, fortunately, in the kid’s section (although I have seen them in adult sections of libraries as well). And while the literary merits of the stories are adult worthy of mention for the clarity of Fitzgerald’s language, the thoughtful plots (mainly, although a couple are kind of similar reflecting the mass magazine adult audience they were addressed to), and the evocative style (of that “age of innocence” just before World War I after which the world changed dramatically. No more innocent when you dream notions, not after the mustard gas and the trench warfare) for me on that long ago first reading what intrigued me was the idea of how the other half-the rich (well less than half, much less as it turns out) lived.

This was fascinating for a poor boy, a poor "projects" boy like me, who was clueless about half the stuff Basil got to do (riding trains, going to boarding school, checking out colleges, playing some football, and seriously, very seriously checking out the girls at exotic-sounding dances, definitely not our 1950s school sock hops). And I was clueless, almost totally clueless, about what haughty, serenely beautiful, guy-crazy Josephine was up to. So this little set of short stories was something like my introduction to class, the upper class, in literature.

Of course when I talk about the 1950s in the old projects, especially the later part when I used to hang around with one Billie, William James Bradley, self-proclaimed king of the be-bop night at our old elementary school (well, not exactly self-proclaimed, I helped the legend along a little) I have to give Billie's take on the matter. His first reaction was why I was reading this stuff, this stuff that was not required school reading stuff anyway. Then when I kept going on and on about the stories, and trying to get him to read them, he exploded one day and shouted out “how is reading those stories going to get you or me out of these damn projects?”

Good point now that I think about it but I would not let it go at that. I started in on a little tidbit about how one of the stories was rejected by the magazine publishers because they thought the subject of ten or eleven year olds being into “petting parties” was crazy. That got Billie attention as he wailed about how those guys obviously had never been to the projects where everyone learned (or half-learned) about sex sometimes even earlier than that, innocent as it might have been. He said he might actually read the stuff now that he saw that rich kids, anyway, were up against the same stuff we were. He never did. But the themes of teen alienation, teen angst, teen vanity, teen love are all there. And while the rich are different from you and I, and life, including young life, plays out differently for them those themes seem embedded in youth culture ever since teenage because a separate social category. Read on.

*Writer’s Corner – Ernest Hemingway’s Last Hurrah- “The Garden Of Eden”

Click on the headline to link to a "Wikipedia" entry for the great American writer, Ernest Hemingway.

Book Review

The Garden Of Eden, Ernest Hemingway, Collier Books, New York, 1986

Recently, in a review of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s first published novel, “This Side of Paradise” (1920), I mentioned that I thought his contemporary, friend, expatriate and fellow writer Ernest Hemingway had definitively won the battle for “number one” writer of their generation, variously named the post -World War I, “lost”, or “Jazz Age” generation. Paying due respect to the greater literary merit of Fitzgerald ‘s “The Great Gatsby” as, perhaps, the best of the individual novels (or short stories) each produced the respective collective bodies of work of each gave the nod to the “Old Man”. That conclusion, however, was premised on such Hemingway masterpieces as “Farewell To Arms”, “The Sun Also Rises”, and “For Whom The Bell Tolls”, and his sparse, knife-like skill with descriptive language. It did not, could not and, unfortunately, does not, include the present book under review, “The Garden Of Eden”.

Of course, as the Publisher’s Note makes clear, this post-mortem find (Hemingway committed suicide in 1961), brought forth in a shopping bag (along with other manuscripts) to the publisher’s office by Hemingway’s widow, Mary, is certainly the stuff of legend, and a compelling reason for publication. However, beyond the seemingly modern trend to publish every bit of paper that a famous writer every put to pen, the hoopla seems entirely misplaced. I will chalk this one up to mere publishing “trade-puffing”.

Why? Well, this is material, basically another tale from the vaults of that “lost” generation mentioned above, that was covered by Hemingway brilliantly at the time in such works as “The Sun Also Rises”, his masterly effort to define that generation and it malaise (and perhaps, incidentally, his own). This book, or rather rolling “travelogue” from one European “hot spot” to another (in the off-season no less), complete with descriptions of an enormous amount of drinking, early and late, eating in that same condition, and going for the occasional swim should make bells ring in the heads of Hemingway aficionados that something very familiar is being reworked here.

Oh, the plot. Newlyweds, David and Catherine, he a writer and she a… well, whatever she is, are off on a seemingly endless trip around Europe after his recent completion of a successfully received book. After endless bouts of lovemaking, and the aforementioned eating and drinking, David itches to get back in harness and write again. Catherine, formally, at least, encourages that desire, and moves on to other pursuits in the sexual field, a girlfriend (Marita) for herself… and for David. The story line pushes along from there around this central entanglement and stalwart David’s pressing need to write some tales of his youth in Africa as well as another novel. Needless to say, the wheels come off the cart in a somewhat unexpected way.

Despite various reviews of this book upon publication commenting on Hemingway's character development of Catherine to the contrary, he never really got his woman characters to be anything more than objects, beautiful, crazy or smart. That is certainly the case with the shallow, demonic Catherine, whatever charms she possessed for David, and Marita as well. As I read along I kept on saying Catherine why don't you go write a novel yourself. But apparently this sensible notion is too modern a conceit for those times. Still there is more than enough good, strong use of language that first attracted me to Hemingway to keep him up in that valued number one position. Just not off of this work though.

Mississippi Noir- William Faulkner's Sanctuary

BOOK REVIEW

Sanctuary, William Faulkner, Vintage Books, New York, 1931

I have read my fair share of Faulkner although I am hardly a devotee. My main positive reference to him is concerning his role in the screenwriting of one of my favorite films- "To Have or To Have Not" with Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall. I have also, obliquely, run into his work as it relates to who should and who should not be in the modern American literary canon. Usually the criticism centers on his racism and sexism, and occasionally his alcoholism. Of course, if political correctness were the main criterion for good hard writing then we would mainly not be reading anything more provocative or edifying than the daily newspaper, if that.

So much for that though. Faulkner is hardly known as a master of the noir or 'potboiler' but here the genius of his sparse, functional writing (a trait that he shares with the Hemingway of "The Killers" and the key crime novelists of the 1930’s Hammett, think "The Red Harvest", and Chandler, think "The Big Sleep") gives him entree into that literary genre. And he makes the most of it.

The plot revolves around a grotesque cast of characters who are riding out the Jazz Age in the backwaters of Mississippi and its Mecca in Memphis. Take one protected young college student, Temple Drake, looking to get her 'kicks'. Put her with a shabbily gentile frat boy looking for his kicks. Put them on the back roads of Prohibition America and trouble is all you can expect. Add in a bootlegger or two, a stone-crazy killer named Popeye with a little sexual problem and you are on your way.

That way is a little bumpy as Faulkner mixed up the plot, the motives of the characters and an unsure idea of what justice, Southern style, should look like in this situation in the eyes of his main positive character, Horace, the lawyer trying to do the right thing in a dead wrong situation which moreover is stacked against him. As always with Faulkner follow the dialogue, that will get you through even if you have to do some re-reading (as I have had to do). Interestingly, for a writer as steeped in Southern mores, Jim Crow and very vivid descriptions of the ways of the South in the post-Civil War era as Faulkner was there is very little of race in this one. The justice meted out here tells us one thing- it is best to be a judge’s daughter or a Daughter of the Confederacy if you want a little of that precious commodity. All others watch out. Kudos to Faulkner, whether he wrote this for the cash or not, for taking on some very taboo subjects back in 1931 Mississippi. Does anyone really want to deny him his place in the American literary canon? Based on this effort I think not.

From The Pen Of Joshua Lawrence Breslin- At The Head Of The Algonquin Roundtable-Dorothy Parker’s Complete Stories

Click on the headline to link to a Wikipedia entry for the writer and critic Dorothy Parker

Book Review

Dorothy Parker: The Complete Stories, Dorothy Parker, Penguin Books, 1995

I love short stories, probably because given my main preoccupations in life with politics and associated questions the short story has allowed me to read a full story and be done with it at one sitting. Strangely (or maybe not given past educational circumstances) in the American section of the pantheon of the Western literary canon from the first half (roughly) of the twentieth century most of those short story writers were men. You know the litany-London, Hemingway (above all, Hemingway), Fitzgerald, James M. Cain, James T. Farrell and so on (and throw in Dashiell Hammett, Raymond Chandler, Damon Runyon, and Ring Lardner to add fuel to the fire).

And then, as if to point out graphically all its glaring inequity, right alongside of the “big boys” there was Dorothy Parker. I was crazy for her stuff from the time (whatever or whenever the exact time I am not sure of right now) I read “Big Blonde” (included here naturally) in high school back in the 1960s. And as was (and is) my wont I went to every library and bookstore around to get her other stuff, stuff like “Soldiers of the Republic” since I was also mad about the Spanish Civil War. Of course I then needed to read up on the fabled Algonquin Roundtable in New York City that she sat in as well as material about her political writings (she wrote material on the Sacco and Vanzetti case and participated in other labor and left causes)

Now, for those who have maybe only read “Big Blonde” let’s say, it is not obvious, not obvious at all, to me why a hard scrabble son of the working- class from up in mill town Olde Saco, Maine would be attracted to Parker’s stories. Stories mainly published for women readers of women’s magazines (pardon me, the folks at The New Yorker) like “You Were Perfectly Fine,” “Lady With A Lamp,” or “From the Diary Of A New York Lady,” all centered somewhere in midtown Manhattan among the Mayfair swells of the day (late 1920s –1930s) and mainly centered on the travails of the lounge around, shop around, lunch around, sleep around women of that set. But like Fitzgerald and the Ivy League swells that he portrayed endlessly, the Hobey Bakers, the Dink Divers, etc. she knew her milieu and knew how the write like hell about them. And knew their foibles and follies to a “t.” There, simple enough.

Note: I wonder in the post-feminist (or third- wave feminist, take your choice) world of the 2000s with all the changes wrought over the past several decades in male-female relationships whether stories about the caddish and unsentimental men that Dorothy Parker wrote about and the self-absorbed, fretful women who “longed” to satisfy them at a great personal and social cost would “sell” today. Are there any women like that anymore? (Or guys?) What do you think? I know one thing she would be forced, forced by the market if for no other reason, to be much more explicit in her then just titillating references to homosexuality, lesbianism, adultery, incest, class, race and just plain fooling around. Women readers (and men) would demand it or she would be relegated to Good Housekeeping magazine.

***Buddha Swings- The Jazz Music Of Benny Goodman

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Benny Goodman And His Band Performing "Sing, Sing, Sing".

CD Review

This Is Benny Goodman: Volume Two, Benny Goodman and various side men, RCA, 1972

Musically, I am a blues man. I am informed, malformed, deformed, reformed by the blues. Then I am a rock man. And a folk man, in all its variants. So where doe that lead me into an exposition of jazz that I have recently started to write more about in this space. Well, let’s just call it an extension of the blues (not hard to do by the way). I mentioned in a recent review of the work of jazz singer Mildred Bailey that the clearest example of that is Lady Day, Billie Holiday. I noted there, that, yes, I know that she was a jazz singer extraordinaire. But, the way she swept my blues away when I was down in the dumps sure makes me think she was the queen of the blues (Bessie Smith being, of course, outlandishly the “Empress” ). I would further note in the category of male bandleaders (that is, after all, what jazz was about back in the days, bands) Duke Ellington’s work has a similar status.

Taking this idea once more as my theme all of this is by a very round about way of bringing the jazz band leader under review, Benny Goodman into the picture. Duke Ellington set the standard in the 1940’s for the phrasing of a jazz piece, for the mix of instruments, for the hush that signaled a new direction to the piece, for the … well, underlying sense of what was going on. As I expressed elsewhere, for that something unsayable but certainly knowable when the music is done right. Benny Goodman, although I believe more into the commercial showmanship of the music than Ellington and others like Chick Correa (who will be highlighted here later) had that in spots. But Benny had that something different, consciously so. He made his work jump to the swing that would get even a tongue-tied, doubled-jointed clod like this review up and dancing. That, my friends, is no mean trick.

I believe that Benny Goodman had two good stretches. One when he had the singer Peggy Lee fronting for his big band. And as highlighted here when he worked (and according to the memories of those who worked under him, worked them hard) small groups that demonstrated that swing could be done in that small combo, if you just had the right personnel. Proof here? “King Porter Stomp". “Avalon" (Christ, even the name gives the swing sense of the piece). “One O’Clock Jump”. "When Buddha Smiles" How’s that. If you need more, believe me there are more here and on other Goodman CD’s. No wonder Hitler, according to some memoirs of Hamburg youth that were made into a movie, wanted his work banned. Swing On...

*The King Of Swing- The Jazz Music Of Benny Goodman- Miss Peggy Lee Is In The House

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Peggy Lee Singing "Why Don't You Do Right?" Backed By Benny Goodman's Band.

CD Review

Benny Goodman And Peggy Lee, Peggy Lee, Benny Goodman and various side men, Columbia Records, 1989

Musically, I am a blues man. I am informed, malformed, deformed, reformed by the blues. Then I am a rock man. And a folk man, in all its variants. So where doe that lead me into an exposition of jazz that I have recently started to write more about in this space. Well, let’s just call it an extension of the blues (not hard to do by the way). I mentioned in a recent review of the work of jazz singer Mildred Bailey that the clearest example of that is Lady Day, Billie Holiday. I noted there, that, yes, I know that she was a jazz singer extraordinaire. But, the way she swept my blues away when I was down in the dumps sure makes me think she was the queen of the blues (Bessie Smith being, of course, outlandishly the “Empress” ). I would further note in the category of male bandleaders (that is, after all, what jazz was about back in the days, bands) Duke Ellington’s work has a similar status.

Taking this idea once more as my theme all of this is by a very round about way of bringing the jazz band leader under review, Benny Goodman into the picture. Duke Ellington set the standard in the 1940’s for the phrasing of a jazz piece, for the mix of instruments, for the hush that signaled a new direction to the piece, for the … well, underlying sense of what was going on. As I expressed elsewhere, for that something unsayable but certainly knowable when the music is done right. Benny Goodman, although I believe more into the commercial showmanship of the music than Ellington and others like Chick Correa (who will be highlighted here later) had that in spots. But Benny had that something different, consciously so. He made his work jump to the swing that would get even a tongue-tied, doubled-jointed clod like this review up and dancing. That, my friends, is no mean trick.

I believe that Benny Goodman had two good stretches. One was with small combos. The other is when he had the singer Peggy Lee fronting for his big band. No question, I am a sucker for a torch singer. Billy Holiday, Helen Whiting, Ivy Andersen, you name it. And naturally included on that list is Ms. Peggy Lee. No, not the Peggy Lee of the 1950's when I was growing up and she had changed her performing persona into a femme fatale with such hits as "Fever" but back in the days before I was born with Benny Goodman and the Swing era. I can still remember as a kid seeing a film clip of her in, I think, "Stage Door Canteen" doing her classic "Why Don't You Do Right Like Some Other Men Do". Wow. And this album is filled with such material from that 'innocent' era. Plenty of torch songs like "My Old Flame" and including Cole Porter standards like "Let's Do It". Naturally, Goodman is at his perfectionist best with a singer like Ms. Lee in front with just enough clarinet solos to keep things interesting. If you want to go back to the mists of time in the career of one Peggy Lee this one is for you.

*The King Of Swing- The Jazz Music Of Benny Goodman

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip OF Benny Goodman And His Band Performing "Sing, Sing, Sing".

CD Review

Benny Goodman: Gold Collection, Benny Goodman and various side men, Dejavu, 1992

Musically, I am a blues man. I am informed, malformed, deformed, reformed by the blues. Then I am a rock man. And a folk man, in all its variants. So where doe that lead me into an exposition of jazz that I have recently started to write more about in this space. Well, let’s just call it an extension of the blues (not hard to do by the way). I mentioned in a recent review of the work of jazz singer Mildred Bailey that the clearest example of that is Lady Day, Billie Holiday. I noted there, that, yes, I know that she was a jazz singer extraordinaire. But, the way she swept my blues away when I was down in the dumps sure makes me think she was the queen of the blues (Bessie Smith being, of course, outlandishly the “Empress” ). I would further note in the category of male bandleaders (that is, after all, what jazz was about back in the days, bands) Duke Ellington’s work has a similar status.

Taking this idea once more as my theme all of this is by a very round about way of bringing the jazz band leader under review, Benny Goodman into the picture. Duke Ellington set the standard in the 1940’s for the phrasing of a jazz piece, for the mix of instruments, for the hush that signaled a new direction to the piece, for the … well, underlying sense of what was going on. As I expressed elsewhere, for that something unsayable but certainly knowable when the music is done right. Benny Goodman, although I believe more into the commercial showmanship of the music than Ellington and others like Chick Correa (who will be highlighted here later) had that in spots. But Benny had that something different, consciously so. He made his work jump to the swing that would get even a tongue-tied, doubled-jointed clod like this review up and dancing. That, my friends, is no mean trick.

I believe that Benny Goodman had two good stretches. One when he had the singer Peggy Lee fronting for his big band. And as highlighted here when he worked (and according to the memories of those who worked under him, worked them hard) small groups that demonstrated that swing could be done in that small combo, if you just had the right personnel. Proof here? “St. Louis Blues”. “Chloe” (Christ, even the name gives the swing sound sense of it). “One O’Clock Jump”. How’s that. If you need more, believe me there are more here and on other Goodman CD’s. No wonder Hitler, according to some memoirs of Hamburg youth that were made into a movie, wanted his work banned. Swing On...

*Jazz Days On My Mind- The Music Of Mildred Bailey

Click On Title To Link To YouTube's Film Clip Of Mildred Bailey Performing "Rocking Chair".

CD Review

Thanks For The Memories: Mildred Bailey, Giants Of Jazz, 1996

Musically, I am a blues man. I am informed, malformed, deformed, reformed by the blues. Then I am a rock man. And a folk man, in all its variants. So where doe that lead me into an exposition of jazz that I have recently started to write more about in this space. Well, let’s just call it an extension of the blues (not hard to do by the way). And the clearest example of that is Lady Day, Billie Holiday. Yes, I know that she was a jazz singer extraordinaire. But, the way she swept my blues away when I was down in the dumps sure makes me think she was the queen of the blues (Bessie Smith being, of course, outlandishly the “Empress”).

All of this is by a very round about way of bringing the jazz singer under review, Mildred Bailey into the picture. Billie Holiday set the standard in the 1940’s (and to a lesser extent in the 1950’s when the dope started to get the best of her) for the phrasing of a jazz song, for the hush that signaled a new direction to the song, for the … well, underlying sense of the song. For that something unsayable but certainly knowable when a song is done right. Mildred Bailey and others (who will be highlighted here later) had that in spots and that is why she and this “greatest hits’ compilation of her work are being reviewed here.

So what sticks out here in that regard? How about her rendition of Duke Ellington’s “I Didn’t Know About You”. Or King Oliver’s “’Taint What You Do”. Or, for that matter, Crosby’s “ A Ghost Of A Chance”. And, of course, “Gulf Coast Blues”. Finally, though, let us see why she is a cut below Billie and Bessie- “St Louis Blues”. That is the cut line. But she still is good. Listen up.