Submitted by Al Kanovsky 04/03/15
How old was I, when I first found myself tapping my foot to the music? How old were you? I was 7 and a half. I know I wasn't 8, because I was still wearing knickers. I didn't get long pants until my 8th birthday. My birthday pants are unforgettable. Pleated, pegged and the cuffs touched my shoes. It was May of 1939. I was wrapped tight in a blanket in the rumble-seat of a '33 Chevy or Ford. It was night time.The car was in the parking lot of the Glen Island Casino in New Rochelle. I was alone, freezing my ass off. Inside my sister , Florence (Sissy to me) was dancing to the music of the Glen Miller Band. At first, all I could really hear or maybe feel, were the drums. The bass loud and steady, the tom-toms, the snare, the cymbals hissing like rattlers, rim shots like staccato machine guns in the night. Then I heard the horns. Brass horns. Blaring, growling, shattering the quiet of the night and daring the stars to shine brighter. I listened more intently. I could hear the reeds. Saxes and clarinets. Playing the melody under the rhythm patterns of the brass. Now and then, a guitar chord and bouncing bass fiddle sounds. Then, here and there, just barely often enough, sparse and lean piano notes, setting the tone and spirit of the band. The whole band was pressing the beat a little. That's when I realized I was tapping my feet. Straight 4 quarter time my feet said. My mind was doing "bopadop a dopdop, bopadop a dopdop. My tongue whispered tss a tss a tss tss. I let the horns and reeds worry about the melody. I was scrunched up way down in the bottom of the seat. Drumming with my fingers and tapping my feet when my sister and her "steady" walked up the car. Sissy was saying "My Mom'll kill me if she finds out we had the brat in the back of the car all night". She didn't have to worry about it. They could even skip the ice cream bribe. All I cared about was would they bring me next week and who would be the band". The band had taken a break and couple of the band members were in the parking lot --- smoking. Their cigarette smoke smelled funny.
Last night I did catch the last set at Cafe Vico. Clarence Palmer (B3/vocals), Danny Burger (drums) and Jim Adle (sax). A little BLUES, a little American songbook, some memories and all of it JAZZ.
The lovely Ms. Jackie Deering on my arm and on the dance floor. I didn't concentrate on the music.
Clarence invited me up to read one of my poems. I read "Galt Ocean Mile BLUES". The line before "I got the Galt Ocean Mile BLUES" reads "All who enter here must pay" --- Seeya!
Al's Disclaimer:
...since I made you suffer the pains of
reading my scribblings. I have been busy seekng new digs. Talk about stress. I
am S T R E SSSS e D. Time is a factor. Space is a factor. Location is a
factor----most of all money is a factr. I guess most of us are in the same
boat. In place of a review I am submitting a piece about myself and of course
music. If he likes, Charlie can publish. If not I will not be offended.
It's
The Music
Allen
Kanovsky
How old was I, when I first found myself tapping my foot to the music? How old were you? I was 7 and a half. I know I wasn't 8, because I was still wearing knickers. I didn't get long pants until my 8th birthday. My birthday pants are unforgettable. Pleated, pegged and the cuffs touched my shoes. It was May of 1939. I was wrapped tight in a blanket in the rumble-seat of a '33 Chevy or Ford. It was night time.The car was in the parking lot of the Glen Island Casino in New Rochelle. I was alone, freezing my ass off. Inside my sister , Florence (Sissy to me) was dancing to the music of the Glen Miller Band. At first, all I could really hear or maybe feel, were the drums. The bass loud and steady, the tom-toms, the snare, the cymbals hissing like rattlers, rim shots like staccato machine guns in the night. Then I heard the horns. Brass horns. Blaring, growling, shattering the quiet of the night and daring the stars to shine brighter. I listened more intently. I could hear the reeds. Saxes and clarinets. Playing the melody under the rhythm patterns of the brass. Now and then, a guitar chord and bouncing bass fiddle sounds. Then, here and there, just barely often enough, sparse and lean piano notes, setting the tone and spirit of the band. The whole band was pressing the beat a little. That's when I realized I was tapping my feet. Straight 4 quarter time my feet said. My mind was doing "bopadop a dopdop, bopadop a dopdop. My tongue whispered tss a tss a tss tss. I let the horns and reeds worry about the melody. I was scrunched up way down in the bottom of the seat. Drumming with my fingers and tapping my feet when my sister and her "steady" walked up the car. Sissy was saying "My Mom'll kill me if she finds out we had the brat in the back of the car all night". She didn't have to worry about it. They could even skip the ice cream bribe. All I cared about was would they bring me next week and who would be the band". The band had taken a break and couple of the band members were in the parking lot --- smoking. Their cigarette smoke smelled funny.
Last night I did catch the last set at Cafe Vico. Clarence Palmer (B3/vocals), Danny Burger (drums) and Jim Adle (sax). A little BLUES, a little American songbook, some memories and all of it JAZZ.
The lovely Ms. Jackie Deering on my arm and on the dance floor. I didn't concentrate on the music.
Clarence invited me up to read one of my poems. I read "Galt Ocean Mile BLUES". The line before "I got the Galt Ocean Mile BLUES" reads "All who enter here must pay" --- Seeya!
Al's Disclaimer:
A short note: The reason I write this is because I love music and words. I do not book acts. I do not promote acts. I do not accept invitations to review artists. I go to venues of my own choice. When and where is not influenced by anything other than who I would like to hear that night or day. If I don't like what I hear, I won't write about it. When I like it I let you all know. I never mention a name without asking permission. "Pardon me, Miss. Would you like to dance?"
~ ~ ~
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