The cover belies the music, though the music is ill. So was the pizza. So was that wine.
Jazz guitarist George Freeman’s records are disimilar, but always good. This one, though, is known more for its raunchy, yet seductive, cover than for its musical content. I should add another pic because the interior spread is just the opposite: the man’s hand on the chick.
You’d think this was heavy funk from the imagery. Its cover is tremendously similar to O’Donel Levy’s funk opus also on the always collectible Groove Merchant label.
All that aside, the record is a really great staight-ahead adventure that doesn’t sound very sexy, but is very pleasant with the smooth guitar prominate in the mix. It should be played early in the evening when you’re not sure where the night will lead. There’s gourmet homemade pizza, some vino and the light jazz guitar touch of the inimitable George Freeman.
Move on to the latin stylings of Gabor Szabo’s six strings and then to Grant Green’s early guitar work to properly meld the jazz guitar with that wine and the significant other upon which you plan to lay your hand. Cheers!
I own only two re-issued records: Miles’ classic, Kind of Blue, and Herbie Hancock’s game-changing foray into funk, Fat Albert Rotunda. I’m a pretty serious collector, but I’m not a snob, especially when the records simply don’t exist in the original issue unless you’re willing to spend hundreds of dollars. I’m not. I could waste countless words describing the necessity of these genre-altering records, but everything has been said. Just Google the titles and see what I mean.
Wait; I am a snob! I just questioned why I’m bothering discussing these two. They’re classics. Everyone knows all about them. The ridiculous ensembles: Coltrane and Cannonball Adderly both on sax on Miles’ album and Bernard Purdie and Buster Williams as rhythm section on Herbie’s! Oh, speaking of Buster Williams, my wife and I were treated to a Buster Williams ensemble performance at the Smoke Jazz Lounge on way upper west Manhattan a couple of years ago courtesy of our main NYC peoples, M+S. Oh, and speaking of my wife, she gave me both of the fantastic re-issue records as gifts over the years. A women who supports a record collector’s odd fetish is a gift itself.
Lastly, both records pair well nicely with brandy and ginger cocktails.
Just printed these Goldi Gold-laced covers for my homey DJ Fudge who is leaving tonight for shows in GENEVA, SWITZERLAND.
Go get his mixes at www.djfudge.com
My son listens to his kiddie, and various mom-made mix, cds on my wife’s old JVC boombox. It’s the ill, advanced sort with two tape decks on the top so you can dub your favorite tapes for or from friends. After countless logged hours using the obsolute device in his bedroom listening to story-time CDs he finally asked what those mechanical contraptions on top were for. Luckily, I’ve been holding on to my original copy of the first Run-DMC album for all these years. I’m not sure why it has stuck with me. Of the hundreds of cassettes I collected during my youth, only this and the Beat Street soundtrack have stuck around.
