Mary Lou Williams Quintet-The CREDO

Gregory James Band

http://www.gregoryjames.com/

It is often said that art and commerce don’t mix, but that’s just one of the many myths that Contemporary Jazz Guitarist, Gregory James has broken down during his musical odyssey. Gregory has recorded ten albums and been invited to perform alongside such musicians as McCoy Tyner, Sergio Mendes, Ray Charles, Max Roach, Mark Isham, and Steve Smith’s Vital Information. Gregory James’ music celebrates, and sonically connects, the two cities that have most shaped him, and in the words of Downbeat magazine, “Bridges the gap between musical adventure and mass appeal.”

Born in San Francisco, James began studying guitar with David LeRoy Smith at the age of 11, and by 15 he was jamming in some of The City’s finest after-hours joints with the likes of Amandio Cabral, Eddie Duran, and Vince Guaraldi. While studying with the great Brazilian guitarist, Bola Sete, Gregory James was listening to The Beatles, Jimi Hendrix, Charles Lloyd and Kenny Burrell, and beginning to experiment with fusion.

In the 1970s he left San Francisco to dive into the New York jazz scene, and was soon on the bandstand with such players as Bobby Scott and Chico Hamilton. He was signed to New York’s Inner City Records label, and released the debut of the Gregory James Quartet, Alicia, in 1978, featuring bassist Andre St. James, drummer Randy Merritt, saxman Barry Shulman, and percussionist Baba Daru. After two years of touring and playing the New York scene he resettled in San Francisco and joined saxman Shulman in the punk-jazz quartet Video Rouge.

In 1982 James returned to instrumental music, forming the Rogue Records label. He recorded two jazz-rock albums with his electric quartet, Madagascar and ALPHABET TOWN, and a duet album, TIBET, with Shulman. James’ genre-bending creativity won praise on the pages of Guitar Player.

To satisfy his growing interest in world musics, James began studying flamenco guitar with Jason McGuire, and put away his electric axe for an acclaimed duet with bassist Kai Eckhardt, THE SEARCH . The album ANANDA followed, a world jazz mélange that blends nylon-stringed, electric and MIDI guitars with the beautiful brass and woodwind tones of Ron Miles and Paul McCandless (Oregon), backed by a rhythm section of Marc and Paul Van Wageningen and Peter Michael Escovedo. James then brought in Yellowjackets saxophonist Mark Russo to collaborate on the radio-friendly album, TRAVELER.

By 2001’s REINCARNATION album, James was playing some saz, incorporating violinist Jenny Scheinman, turntablist DJ Fly, the spoken word of Craig Easley and Catie Murphy and talking drum of Rasaki Aladokun atop an already rich musical landscape. COME TO ME, produced by Benny Reitveld (Miles Davis, Santana) in 2003, is perhaps the most complete realization of James’ flamenco-jazz stylings with elements from hip-hop, classical, funk, rock and world beat and a guest list including Karl Perrazo and Raul Rekow of Santana, keyboardist Peter Horvath, Rita Thies, Alex Murzyn and Baron Shul on woodwinds, and DJ Fly, among the crew.

Gregory James’ most recent album, SAMSARA, is a momentary return to gentler times. It’s a quartet date featuring bassist Jonathan Herrera, drummer Deszon Claiborne, and longtime saxman Baron Shul, highlighted by a delightful take on The Beatles’ “And I Love Her.”

Besides performing with his San Francisco-based quartet, Gregory James recently began recording with producer Cookie Marenco on The Valence Project, along with a growing cast of musical characters that includes drummer/programmer Brain (Primus, Tom Waits), bassists Jon Herrera and Kai Eckhardt, and vocalists Melissa Reese and Deborah Charles. Fans of Bill Laswell’s Material will be excited by these exotic and emphatic sounds. As always with Gregory James – stay tuned!

http://www.gregoryjames.com/

John Sinclair and His Amsterdam Blues Scholars at cafe 420 (I)

SIXTY: a Novel by Steve Fly Agaric 23' Excerpt.

SHOWER SING-SONG SCENE
From SIXTY: A Novel by Steven James Pratt


Joe sang in a number of
different keys
and 'styles'
some might say

chanting squeaking,
wrapping to deploy one
word snapshots:
I was washing the brow with now,
running with the water asking am I wet,
how much on the bet, the next set of ideas,
who will go with me in conversation, in business,
who will believe this life I lead,
and take the seeds I sprinkle,
thinking of sinking the battleships of
unbalance through these lips,

taking each moment as strips, reading in reels,
clicking my heels and going into the ceiling,
what thoughts can get at it,
get at all in the feeling,
tongue tired must keep sealing
the fate of air particles,
ear to ear and head inside the Hsien-glider,
turned on the hot tap,
sqeeze the mapple syrup through the nozzel,
lips to nibble the ear world,
eyes to dabble the haze landscape,
a hedgehog in a cape, floating without water,
a mind-high you doing,
bad vibes traced out and back
again to play again,
remixed tricks of the grade,
call a shovel a spade,
heads spun and sprayed,
serving home made lemonade.

I am under the waterfall,
meteorites in each drip,
satelites encircle each drop,
clip-clop go the feet of the wooden folk,
tea and biscuits served in a tartan steel box,
around the fire,
thanks for the tree and the meal,
cheers for the cheers for the cheers,
such small talk passed by my ears,
got caught on an ear-ring
swung around the head
into a song about face.

Time around my neck like
clock hands interlocked,
time creeps under my bed,
around the rooms I roam,
in my hair like foam,
strings of lemon grass sweet
links between our sinks,
funnels and tunnels to our
past head gears, locked,
blocked, my rip roaring free
writing mocked,
trigger cocked and sheep flocked,
my lyric keeps me afloat,
solving the equation
advising not to vote,
don't vote for those fuckers
vote for your friends,
your facebook community as
Government entity,
spent plenty gob fulls on
social network,
how about some blow jobs,
the time around our body like lotion,
rubbed and medically applied,
60 jars of melted mars bars,
turned back into liquid, used
to bruise the brand
remake the sand every time

re-draw the bandwidth,
the stage-gauge,
the page depth of breadth
of field of view,
the space and time tiff seems overdone
still overdue, the day after
yesterday, tea time now
the flow of shower power
grows on me like moss
the teeth and the floss

the few days left
the sweat coming from under
my right cleft,
the gigs and the meetings,
the work and the eating,
the time it takes to bake a
cake and blog a new view,
to who knows who,
who listens to these blog
word wonders anyhow,
who's recording this,
nobody I hope and I'll
continue inuuendo and
reason for bliss,
kiss the dome hat and the
sky arch pussy
union of being
of being in union,
like concentric rings
of an oinion,
I'll make you cry like
a funnion

Trumpets from above and
gloves sewn into a
dove pattern fit the lady of bikes,
she rides past the supermarket trolley,
the cars and the large articulated lorries,
awkwardly parked like armadillo's,
like a word that don't fit,
traffic skewes the landscape
out of balance,
speed and greed perception on
low level street journey
we peek the street only
once a week but when kids
every night rain,
snow and wind we would
blend into the footpath,
the park and roads, out in the
dark exchanging our odes,
kids without direction, building
language and tuff skin,
getting into trouble outside
of school and flipping
every sin you could think of,
finding an edge to rebellion,
courting the gouls and impressing fools,
masking the making of trouble
with innocent ignorance
don't want to look or consider
to reconsider the data,
my teenage ego knows,
and I knows what's what,
it goes like this,
fuck off, we'll kick your
head in old man,
fuck off
now the path winds into
a spiral maelstrom
down to the deeper depths,
raps of critic
raps of injustice, raps
against power
angry, fire filled raps, but what
of the words bounce and softness,
the leaking perfume itching
behind your ear,
of nothing, the ephemeral
emerald of now,
the kind of thoughts a security
guard woulod guard
without pay for eternity
just to know they are safe, in love
the romance lock to the door,
your hands and legs sprawled out
on the floor
truth fucked in the ass, in the mouth,
the sex and body of beauty
and slang banged together
like two elk heads,
complicated jagged sharp sticks,
branched in starnge ways,
but the simple body parts fit,
thats it, give it to me,
thanks, the body and mind
leave the field altogether,
mind-sex left in the
comments section,
who's fucking who, who
cares, who knows, who stares,
who stars in their bra's and
rides Jaguar's,
who be in the sun strip
glitter of expense,
giving faked 'value'
to cheap products,
who put the people in the pictures
and paint the pictures of the people
what kind of a shampoo is this
who's business

whig and wags of the tails
of stale M.P's talking rubbish,
daft dense wafts of smoke,
as Flav said, 911 is a joke,
still to these war pigs,
slaughter of innocent
always innocent,
slaughter of the guilty
may revel in excess,
take these words and
put them in boxes,
take them out again
and re-dress,
address the fact the word's gone
page burnt away and only
sounds and lights left,
sacred drift

Catching acrylic worlds,
building a school and a
 hospital and a college in each neuron
each bit, everywhere fit
for consumption,
fit for connection,
fit for health and fitness,
live to see the expanse and contraction,
the contraction, the contraption,
the contra-distinction between
 tincture and reefer,
between size, and temperature,
giving smiles and stuff in each puff,
giving nod and the feeling of yes I will,
lets do it,
lets go for it and build up
 our free resource,
our friendship,

set sail and meet with warm
 feet and a loud hi,
please excuse me while I kiss the sky,
the stars are crying and
the milky way
blushes when you
walked in the room,
I knew the blues were close,
I could smell the toast
and eggs on our pillow,
jam and feta sitting on
 the side there ontop of your sweater,
the letter you wrote

the boat I took
the look of love and book of sweetness...
removed from the library
shelves of our township,
something lost and now a gain, again,
grasping the moon with the
 hand, the stars the earth,
grasping salt grains, grabbing at straws,
the wonder of disorganized religion,
the the the...

lack of cohesion, and order,
the disorder of Universe,
reflected in this verse,
in the world purse that
 opens up like a Porn
star's Vagina
when a big dick nation
wants some booty,
last I heard about 8 Billion
could provide adequate food
housing and shelter to
 the worlds population,
instead mutilation,
more bombs and listen...
I beat those drums again,
of p[ain and injustice,
the balance of my plug
mouth must muster up the mustard spice,
re-align with what's right and provide
the best gloss that I could put up,
put up the fists for the fight
 and celebrate the wins,
we win and they loose,
we win with each injustice
 and each death and each lie
and each bruise,
the nasty violent bastards
 of sick and twisted nations
by a peace loving amicable
society, we balance
inside of me lies the
core of each thought
I spew up onto the sports field,
what my minds revealed,
is to keep the sleep at
 bay with a continuous
babble... much like the
 records play.`


Steve Fly Agaric 23 'taken from his forthcoming Novel SIXTY'

Doctor Marshmallow Cubicle Syblings at 301 Overtoom pts 5 & 6

DJ fly agaric speaks and drums to Shannanigums Wave

SHANNANIGUMS WAVE BOOK 1 CHATER 1B by flyagaric23

Doctor Marshmallow Cubicle Syblings at 301 Overttom

HOLOSTHESIA

HOLOSTHESIA
360 DEGREE VRML
CUBE AUDIO-RESPONSIVE.

Headset and the HELMET
The goggles and the glasses
The room and light source
The symbolist and the language.

Bind time and bind space
Bind blind
without trace
Record to bind, use
Mind to find Symbol-lights source

And space-time-glue,
And who is
binding
Where and when to 
Ask the
questions of relativity
See the Sufi and Zen

Grind senses into paste, sticky
 Combinatory
bits
Process environment, synthesize,
Observe,
divide, speak of the measures
And the measurer


Time: together we’ll crack it.
Space: spiral
curved places, things, bits
Genes, memes,
scenes and binding code
Social binds, contractual
bindings 

Human’s bind their gifts, through time

Presents are wrapped by symbol craftsmen
Descrete packets of information, bound and posted

Through and  over time,
We undue the bindings,
synthesize contents
With symbol/light instruments

And construct and bind past information into now.

Have noosphere,


All time is bound to happen,
Its written on the boots, symbolized in the straps

The slacks and what the tailor taught us:
Integrity, tensesity, taughtness, 
To have pitched
a steady tent and to have struck
 Square on the nail.

All nail this chord hear,
And nailing sound-waves
with particle
Physics will bind to a space-place
Recording, beginning point stamp.
 And an end
date stamp. Binded.
Sealed and measurable.
25ml Chinese ply.

DJ fly agaric 23 plays Jungle beats again, for you and your tube

DJ fly agaric 23 plays Jungle beats for you and your tube

Sinclair On The Air 88

Sinclair On The Air 88

RAW Illumination: Rocking along with Bob Although Robert Anton Wils...

RAW Illumination: Rocking along with Bob

Although Robert Anton Wils...: "Rocking along with Bob Although Robert Anton Wilson's published statements on music mostly expressed interest in classical music and jazz, ..."

September 23rd and the Coltrane Synchronicity 2010

Awake before 9, at 11 Jehovah's Witnesses at the door, I invite them in for a chat, and I find myself launching into theological, philosophical and linguistic conversation with the two ladies. The first grey lady remained quiet, and she had a rather raw looking complexion, while the other lady who was darker and younger was born in Portugal, I discovered, and she liked to talk and converse with me on some pretty far-out subjects.

I felt that we touched on some fantastic ideas, or due to the line of conversation, about books 'the bible' texts, and speech, and 'individuals' that embody that speech, text, book? and how that can be so.

I was pleased to say that the lady had a rather pluralistic approach, and on one occasion when discussing human beings and 'spirits' she referred to us as being both at the same time.

I stated that the bible must be translated into many languages, and the difficulty's that must appear in translation, especially if the translated language is believed by some, to contain the 'words' of god, a proposed almighty creator and ultimate truth teller. Well, I proposed, surely a language closer to the signs and symbols and structures and 'sense' radiating from the bio-organic natural world of seasons, species, earth and stars, would be closer to the 'process' of that God, as I perceived him/her? And so, it follows, for me, that ideogrammic, and pictographic languages, in that they are built upon naturally poetically occurring 'forms' and 'functions' in nature, over millennia, are closer to God than alphabetic 'forms' and 'functions'. Alike mathematical 'forms and functions' alphabet seems to depend upon specific contexts and very special conditions, basically you have to be 'in the know' to grok what the feck' the symbols refer too., whereas every  human being can recognize the moon, the sun, a tree, and the figure of a human being standing, sitting or bending over?

Early in the conversation, the sweet ladies did mention the 'devil' "whoops" I thought to myself at around 11.30 am, what will I say about the devil?, and it went a little something like this, but of course I am adding a little swank here, but generally I communicated my thoughts and can recast them here for you to decide how the conversation transpired.

I contended that 'the devil' could not be person, yet, the spirit of the devil could somehow infect a person, like simply having a particularly violent or self-harming thought, but where do these 'devil spirits' come from? God, genes, culture? And why do many religions personify 'Godliness and Deviliness' in human beings, when they should know better than to attach labels and terms so loaded with cultural bias and confusion to human beings, that I view as being able to 'tune into' personae, or different personality complexes, a myriad of radiant voices in synchrony singing or just humming a song of oneself. All spirits, beings and entities are out there and 'in here', or are available for those who wish to tune in. 'Tune in' to mean both; dial up your internet search engine and dial up your consciousness interacting processes. I didn't say that, I used more simple terms, but thats kind of what I meant.

I barely touched on the subject of Magick, yet throughout our conversation I realized that the methodology they may really be searching for is probably best found in the system of Magick, more or less the arts and sciences of manifesting 'reality' in conformity of will. Or about as close to direct experience, without exotic chemical aid, if you take human neuro-chemistry as not really exotic enough, that you can find, in my experience and opinion. I was going to recommend Enochian Vision Magick to the kind Jehovah's Witnesses, but I found that our freestyle speech, without really quoting sources, was not the speech/space/time to spring such a  concept. But was right there, poised in mind. The space between the study of language and the study of 'spirits' where the questions of authorship and origins come up, and how to best analyze them, seems to me fully explicated in Magick, I was reminded of this while talking to the ladies.


23 Coltrane

Today (I write this at 4.00 am) was significant to me for two reasons, before the odd conversation with the Jehovah's Witnesses; I moved most but not all of my belongings out of my apartment to a new one, and the 23rd of September denotes the birthday of John Coltrane, who I view to be a grandmaster of spirit language, along with the long list musical and cultural praises to him for his innovations to be found throughout music after the fact of 'Coltrane'.

I and I and I have had a running 'Coltrane synchronicity' noted in dream journals, pre-internet, and gradually building up intensity over the years. Today,for me, was right up there in the highest intensity region, out there in stellar regions where planets explode gasses escape, congeal, and new forms... today was a day of great Unity, at least in my life, and I intersected with what I consider the heart of the matter at hand: Internet, revolution, cognitive liberty and 'the tale of the tribe', and Coltrane.

I started what turned out to be a 58 minute mix with two copies of 'spiritual' by Coltrane, followed by Lenny Bruce on the verb 'to come', 'The drum thing' chased by the map world of the Universe otherwise know as 'Giant Steps', next 'Max Roach' with his classic and new favorite of mine called 'Nommo' (the name of a tribe said to be from the Sirius star system), Sun Ra interrupts the bass solo in Nommo to unwind 'the ridiculous I and the cosmic me' from the stylus needle point, taken from the re-issued 'Antique Black' treasures, Ra and Marshall Allen tear holes inspacetime and the tempt us back to Nommo, switching to Art Blakey and Jo Jones drum duo featuring Lord Buckley mixed in by the author, in jumps Thelonious Monk with 'April In Paris' followed by Trane's ballad 'easy to remember' 'Equinox' due to the fact that the vernal equinox fell on September 23rd this year of 2010. The final tune in the mix is 'A love    supreme'.

I should mention that during the recording, dedicated to and inspired by John Sinclair, he called to send good wishes, in fact it was during 'easy to remember'. I told John this, and greeted him with the news that he had cut into my 'live' Coltrane mix, and intersected with my trains of thoughts.

One hour after pressing stop on my recorder I was carrying boxes up and down stairs, moving apartment, a rather head numbing experience, seeing everything in boxes, hoping my ride would not get stopped somehow and all my shit get impounded, or some nightmare scenario, but this only lasted a while, and I was soon on the tram heading to work, leaving my new abode on the West side of Amsterdam.

Craphound.

On my feet at work, I even said to my colleague that I did not feel like I was in my own body, due to many thoughts about things associated with moving house, for the most part, but also what I viewed as the Jehovah's Coltrane Synchronicity, in my mixed up swirl of thoughts, smoke and peach juice. I think this was some feedback from what was about to transpire.

Around nine O'Clock things had calmed down a little at the cafe' after a slight surge of visitors probably due to the brief rain showers, but inside the cafe' things, to mean almost everything in my reality complex, changed, and changed utterly, at first the I-tunes juke box started playing up and spitting out the same few tunes over and over again, 'Mud Club and My Guitar wants to Kill your mama, both by Frank Zappa'. Then the lights start to flicker ever so slightly, like they do if you turn the dimmer dial too far up, but no one was near the light switches. The coffee shop cat started to 'meeow' and chatter his teeth while rolling on his back, something he never does like that.   

A plume of smoke rushed through the door like a funnel or bundle of smoke, and then outside the planet saturn with its tell tale rings and autumn colors hung right there just outside the front doors of the cafe, beaming through the doors the cluster of swirling lights approached my counter, I stood in amazement before the wonder and pinched myself.

"Oh, sorry" I said to the elderly French couple who were waving a ten euro note in front of my nose wanting to pay for their cake and mixed cigarette, "for a minute I thought I was inside a computer game, and you were not really here at all, at all, your and 'I' was a fiction, a kind of sequence to a dream, Oh, please excuse me". I felt a pressure on the right side of my forehead and that kind of slight muscle twitch you get sometimes.

The cluster of bright lights spoke and as it did so all the lights in the cafe' went out, the computer kicked off with a whizz bang, and the cat went silent. Minds merged and direct transmission began between beings and objects, a unity wave passed through the shop, the people and the chairs and tables, all things whirling and waltzing the dance of maya. The letters from the posters on the wall left the frames and drifted off the wall onto the floor and seemingly all over the place. Tiny elf chemists danced on the tabletop, turning pencils into roll-out projector screens that mice could carry. The ashtrays all began to melt into intricate wheels and cogs, slowly turning against the brown and gold brass light frames.

Table mats folded and shaped themselves into thousands of tessellation's, grids, maps, calendars, puzzles, origami games and yet still functional drinks mats. The water taps unhooked themselves and re-rooted their ways up and out the cafe' the rooftop where fresh rainwater could be gathered. I looked up and the ceiling and gone, removed, missing and replaced by a remarkable labyrinth of Escher like tessellation, but in fact you have a complete scale stretched model map of the Universe according to Hubble, thanks to sensible planning between photographic arts and tailor made printing.

Somebody reached for a lightbulb and ate it like it was a peach, it dripped like a peach and the young girl seemed to be loving it, and had an amber glow like that of the peach after eating,beaming with extra amber alabaster lights and shade foot stealth.

Today, I met the author and journalist Cory Doctorow at my workplace, and turned him onto some cutting edge media, and still held a pleasant and jolly conversation with him, who i view to be one of greatest active minds of our time. I had read his book 'makers' just a half of a year ago and became inspired by said book and of course, the work he does on behalf of EFF, and beyond. A personal hero, and the last person I was expecting to walk into my work place on Septermber 23rd. best wishes, steve

Ninja Tune XX Takes Over Shoreditch

Fly's Sleeping Broadcast on Radiofreeamsterdam.

STEVE FLY’S SLEEPING BEAUTY

By

lar420

Published: July 1, 2010 

Posted in: Steve FlyTags: amsterdam, Charles Mingus, Cosmic Couriers, Disco 3000, DJ Fly, Dj Fly Agaric 23, DJ Food, El Saturn/Art Yard Records, Fly Agaric Studio, Jimi Hendrix, John Barry, john sinclair, Kindred Spirit Records, Michael Ray, Parliament, Peter Thomas, Salah Ragab, Steve “Fly” Pratt, Sun Ra, Sun Ra & His Intergalactic Arkestra, Tascam mixer, The Heliocentrics, The John Sinclair Foundation, the Moonglows, the Pinkeye Orchestra, Vestax Turntables, Zoom H4

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The John Sinclair Foundation Presents
Fly Agaric Studio
Sunday, June 14, 2010
Amsterdam, NL.
STEVE FLY’S SLEEPING BEAUTY

DJ Fly presents Sleeping Beauty, a selection of vinyl cuts for an outer space journey featuring music by Sun Ra & His Intergalactic Arkestra, Parliament, Jimi Hendrix, Charles Mingus, Salah Ragab, and Peter Thomas, plus some splintered vinyl fragments from DJ Food, The Heliocentrics, the Moonglows, Cosmic Couriers, and John Barry, plus a cut from John Sinclair & the Pinkeye Orchestra all mixed together. Dedicated to other worlds and to other weird playful words. Special thanks to John Sinclair and Kindred Spirit Records Amsterdam for most of the tasty plates I get to serve up into the ear.
“So here you are. As a listener, you hold documentation of the cosmic conversation. Astro-physics plus Egyptian hieroglyphics equal Space is the Place.”
—Michael Ray,
Notes to Sun Ra: Disco 3000
El Saturn/Art Yard Records, 2007
Playlist SLEEPING BEAUTY
[01] DJ Food: Colours Beyond Colours
[02] Sun Ra: Springtime Again
[03] Heliocentrics: Intermission
[04] Moonglows: Please Send Me Somebody To Love
[05] Sun Ra: Dance Of The Cosmo-Aliens
[06] Jimi Hendrix: The stars that play with laughing Sam’s dice
[07] DJ Food: A Trick Of The Ear
[08] Parliament: P-Funk (Wants to Get Funked Up)
[09] Charles Mingus: Oh Lord Don’t Let Them Drop That Atomic Bomb on Me
[10] John Sinclair & Pinkeye Orchestra: Nuclear War
[11] Sun Ra: Friendly Galaxy
[12] Norman Whitfield: UFO’s
[13] Peter Thomas: Stars And Rockets
[14] Salah Ragab: Ramadan in Space Time
[15] Sun Ra: Sleeping Beauty.

Produced by Steve “Fly” Pratt
Recorded by Dj Fly Agaric 23 at Fly Agaric Studio, Amsterdam using
Two Vestax Turntables 1 Tascam mixer. Zoom H4 recorder.
Monday, June 14, 2010, 5:00-6.30 pm
Post-production, editing & annotation by John Sinclair
© 2010 Fly Agaric 23. Used with permission.

http://www.radiofreeamsterdam.com/steve-fly%E2%80%99s-sleeping-beauty/