Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Tag: miles davis (Page 1 of 8)

Hooterollin’ And Rockin’ And Researchin’

New Hooterollin’! Is my body breaking down in new and exciting ways? Yes! But there’s new Hooterollin’. Are some of the emergent nightmares far too disgusting to even mention in mixed company? Yes! But there’s new Hooterollin’. Am I living through the second act of a David Cronenberg film? Yes! But there’s new Hooterollin’.

Did you know that Bobby–in addition to being a guitarist, singer, and cowboy–was a record producer? I did not, and I know a lot of stuff about Bobby. Luckily, Corry has abandoned the tenets of Without Research to, you know, look shit up and thus enlighten all with this ribald* tale of a Grateful Dead and one of the guys who wrote Mississippi Queen. Why are you still here? Go read something that makes sense.

And if you need something to listen to…

Here’s the Dead’s set from 4/9/70 at the Fillmore West.

And here’s Mr. Davis and the Lost Quintet (featuring Chick Corea on the Fender Rhodes):

 

 

*There is no ribaldry whatsoever in this tale. Everyone keeps it in his or her pants at all times.

RIP Chick

1969 was the Lost Quintet, so-called because the five musicians–Mr. Davis, Chick Corea, Jack DeJohnette, Dave Holland, and Wayne Shorter–never made a studio recording. Chick joined up in September of ’68, and was dragooned into playing the electric Fender Rhodes piano against his will.

Redundant.

FUCK OFF.

“Dragooned” implies that it’s against one’s will. 

I said “fuck off.” I yelled it, as a matter of fact.

Welp.

Yeah, huh?

Got anything else rattling around up there?

Not even the beginning of a thought.

Call it?

Sure. How about another pic of Chick?

Do it, pal.

That was nice.

Yeah.

In A Reclining Way

Hey, Mr. Davis. Whatcha doing?

“Bein’ black and better than you.”

I can’t disagree. That’s some bed you got there.

“Custom-made. I can fit six bitches in here. All sorts of room for freakiness. Plus I got hidey-holes.”

Hidey-holes? For what?

BANG!

“Don’t be asking me about my hidey-holes.”

You brought it up.

“I’ll bring my foot up your ass. Fuck’s the point of a hidey-hole if you’re gonna run around telling everyone what’s in it?”

You’re right.

“Shit, I know. But you’re half-dead or something, right?”

Something like that.

“Yeah, so I’ll let you behind the black door. That’s very kind of me, letting your semi-civilized ass into my hidey-holes.”

Thank you, Mr. Davis.

“I got a drug drawer.”

Sure.

“Next to that is for devices of a sensual purpose. I got some wet-wipes in there, too.”

Smart.

“Under there I got, maybe, nine or ten deflated soccer balls.”

Why?

“Ask Cicely.”

If I see her, I will. Anything else you want to share about your bed?

“PIllows are custom, too. Feathers only come from good-looking ducks. I picked ’em out personally. Went upstate to this cracker’s farm. Man’s got ducks out the ass. I chose the attractive birds.”

There are good-looking and ugly ducks?

“Shit, yeah. Some of those motherfuckers were uglier than Gary Bartz. I can’t be putting my head on that shit.”

I guess not. One last question.

BANG!

What was that for!?

“You act like we ain’t met before and I don’t know you’re about to say some stupid shit.”

Yes, sir.

“Ask your stupid shit.”

Shoes on the bed?

BANG!

“They’re bed-slippers, you hillbilly shithead!”

I enjoy our visits.

“I’ll throw you out a window if you come back here.”

Yes, sir.

Fusion Or Porgy?

FEELINGS ON BESS? PORGY: Desirous that she be his woman now. FUSION: Did not return questionnaire.

MILES DAVIS Yet another trick, tee hee. If we were on Password or even Super Password, and you said “Miles Davis” as a clue, both FUSION and PORGY would be appropriate answers.

WHITE PEOPLE LEGALLY ENJOINED FROM PRODUCING IT? BESS: Yes. FUSION: God, I hope not.

FLOTUS? There was a First Lady named BESS, but there have been no Presidential family members named FUSION. (In 2024, a GOP hopeful is gonna tell a crowd “These here are my twins, Fusion and Fission. Know why I named ’em that? Cuz the government said I shouldn’t.” That fucker’s gonna win in a landslide.)

THE GRINCH, AND WHETHER OR NOT YA GOOPIN’ ON IT Oh, this is the good part.

STOP IT. I’M BEGGING YOU. 

The people need to know.

They don’t. They really don’t. Hey, isn’t this site supposed to be about the Dead?

The who?

Right, yeah. And didn’t you start out talking about Porgy? And then just swiffered on over to Bess? 

Huh. I did!

Asswipe.

Reaching Out

“Murder–”

Oh, no.

“–Heist, you beef jerky-looking motherfucker.”

BELOVED PRESIDENT TAKING IT ON THE CHIN AND CRUMPLING NOISE

“This bitch, too.”

BELOVED FIRST LADY RECEIVING SIMILAR TREATMENT FROM A MUSICAL LEGEND NOISE

“Why not?”

GIFTED ACTRESS WHO DESERVED BETTER THAN THIS FROM A PARTNER AND THE WORLD, ETC., NOISE

Stop that!

“I was kind to the crackers.”

What about your wife?

“Don’t ask me about my personal business. I ever ask about you?”

No.

“So don’t ask about me.”

How is laying out the First Couple and your wife part of the Murder Heist?

“You remember that time Ghost Rider tried to fuck the White House?”

Nicolas Cage.

“He fucked Peggy Sue, too.”

Nicolas Cage.

“Yeah. This shit is like that shit. There’s a desk with a puzzle built into it, or a riddle carved into the floorboards. Nothing may be as it seems. I gotta solve some shit.”

Can you be more specific?

BANG!

Sorry.

“Bet your ass you are. Sorry-ass motherfucker. You’re lucky I don’t call you a Jew bastard. We know each other a long time, so I won’t say that shit out loud, but we both know it’s in the air.”

I apologize, Mr. Davis.

“Between you and me, who you trusting on a Murder Heist?”

“You say ‘neither of us,’ I’ll shoot at your ass again.”

I would trust you, sir.

“Damn straight. I’m thinking maybe the paintings have been arranged to form some sort of pictocryptic clue, or even a warning. I’m gonna have Stevie Grossman look at it. Jews are good at deciphering.”

Stevie Grossman’s part of this?

“Stevie Grossman’s part of a lotta shit.”

Okay, sure. If there’s riddles and whatever, then you’re part of the “heist” section of the Murder Heist.

“Never know. Could be the answer to the riddle is ‘Murder some motherfucker.’ Never wanna anticipate the Murder Heist. You gotta listen.”

Did it tell you to punch the President, the First Lady, and your wife?

BANG!

“I told you my marriage ups-and-downs are off-limits.”

Sorry, Mr. Davis.

“You’re a shining example of how fucking mediocre a white man’s allowed to be in this world. You think Caspar Weinberger is here?”

Why?

“I wanna punch Caspar fucking Weinberger.”

Is that part of the Murder Heist?

“Let’s find out.”

FOURTEEN YEARS EARLIER, BUT ALSO SIMULTANEOUSLY BECAUSE OF TIME SHEATH-RELATED BULLSHIT NOISE

“Mr. Brown, we can’t have it. Not this administration, not the people of America, not the Black community. The unrest in the streets has got to stop, and I would, uh, greatly appreciate your counsel on that. But, firstly, I want you to get MIles Davis to stop coldcocking Republicans”

“A man can act th’ fool sometime, but not always and not in some places. Man’s gotta be dignified in th’ White House! Man’s gotta be respectable and serious. Can’t be punchin’ on old white people.”

“Yes, yes. We’re of a mind about this. He, uh, just nut-shotted George Schultz.”

“We can’t be havin’ it!”

“No, no. All of this is out of the question, the events of the past few days. We’re informed this is all part of something called a, uh, Murder Heist. That is the name. Whether it is euphemistic is yet to be seen. As of yet, no one has died.”

THE ULTIMATE SOUL BROTHER PEEKING OUT A SLIGHTLY CURVED DOOR NOISE

“Gonna be honest, Mr. President: Nancy looks dead.”

“She’s a very slight woman. I can’t imagine her taking much of a beating before succumbing to her wounds. The nation mourns.”

“She was the eleganzo bean in America’s stew.”

“Yes, well, all right. Please, Mr. Brown. Go calm Miles Davis down before he kneecaps Lawrence Eagleberger.”

“The Jew is a man who can be partnered with!”

“I’ve not found that. My dealings with them have been less than sound. You may, of course, have had different experiences. I can only speak to my personal experiences with members of the race. Incidental to his people’s beliefs is the fact that he cannot be pummeled by a trumpeter at a White House banquet. How does that look to the Chinese?”

“They on the come-up.”

“Yes, yes.”

“Wanna go in they house, gotta take off your shoes.”

“Also correct.”

“Lumpy eggs.”

“Afterwards, for sure. Consider it done.”

“Counter-attack on the attack!”

GODFATHER OF SOUL PURPOSFULLY OPENING THE OVAL OFFICE DOOR NOISE

“I ain’t kiddin’:Nancy dead!”

“We’ll take care of it. Just bring order, son.”

So Let’s Dance!

Could Garcia play jazz? 

Kinda. If you had never heard an actual jazz guitarist, you might think so. Those with a working knowledge of six-string swing-cats might not share that opinion.

Could Garcia play jazz that he and David Grisman had transmogrified into bluegrass?

Yes! Quite well, in fact.

Did Miles Davis only like Garcia because Garcia fawned over him?

Probably a little.

Isn’t that a bit…Trumpy?

Yes! Quite Trumpy, in fact.

Y’know your eyebrows are falling out, right?

Go fuck your brother, you shit-sack.

DON’T YOU GIVE HIM SHIT, SHIT-SACK!

Fuck both of you dudes.

Eat me, muchacho.

EAT HIM, MUCHACHO!

I hate bold-faced guy.

That fucker’s on my list. Actually, that fucker’s my whole list. It’s just him.

You’re a friend.

I dance with who brought me.

Reasons You Should Download These Excellent Shows From Miles Davis’ Electric Era

  • These ones.
  • They are, as I already mentioned, excellent. Excellence is so rare! Press excellence to your loving bosom; grill it a cheese; ask your mobster buddies to find it a no-show job. Love up on excellence.
  • These shows were shared with us, undeserving sinners and slackers tho we are, by Cascadia’s own Mr. Completely. That’s a Seal of Approval right there, boy howdy. That guy’s the Michael Jordan of recommending stuff.
  • Maybe if you don’t, Mr. Davis comes to your house and punches everyone living therein? Sure, he died 30 years ago, but would you put it past him? I wouldn’t. Mr. Davis was and continues to be a feisty dude.
  • At least one of these recordings features a band that contained Chick Corea and Keith Jarrett. At the same time! That’s like getting soup and salad.
  • At least one of the recordings that does not feature Messrs. Corea and Jarrett features Pete Cosey, and he looked like this:Which you’d have to believe scared some white people, and that’s–returning to my initial assertion–excellent.
  • What else are you gonna listen to? Goose? Grover Washington, Jr.? Dokken? You gonna throw on Dokken when there’s nine or ten hours of Electric Era siting there plump and lovely like a Fresno rentboy? (Fresno has the plumpest rentboys. Everyone knows this.)
  • Cuz if you don’t, you’re a non-playing motherfucker. And we all know what Mr. Davis thinks of non-playing motherfuckers.
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