The Jazzes.

“Untitled”: Rick Olson; Mark Henderson.
Transition: John Coltrane.
Equinox: John Coltrane
Coltrane/Miles 1960. Bye Bye, Blackbird.
Coltrane w/Miles 1960: All Blues. Amsterdam.
John Coltrane: Spiritual {w/Dolphy}.
1960: All Blues: Miles Davis/John Coltrane Quintet. Stockholm.
Compassion: John Coltrane.
Cecil Taylor: Live in Bologna. 1988
Pools. Michael Brecker.
Ben Webster: Sunday.
Yusef Lateef: See Line Woman.
Kongsberg: Yusef Lateef.
Mr. Joy: Paul Bley.
Paul Bley: Mr. Joy. from Turning Point. 1975.
Henry Threadgill: I Can’t Wait Till I Get Home.
The Sidewinder: Lee Morgan with Joe Henderson.
Herbie Nichols: The Gig.
Dollar Brand: The Moon.
Dollar Brand: Tintinaya.
Lew Tabackin: Jitterbug Waltz.
Viper’s Drag: Fats Waller.
Julius Hemphill: The Hard Blues.
Just B: Henry Threadgill.

Titans of improvised music display their immense powers.

Pat Martino: The Great Stream.
Wisteria: Johnny Hodges.
Valse Hot: Sonny Rollins, Clifford Brown.
Albert Ayler: Spirits.
Coltrane/Hartman: They Say It’s Wonderful.
Miles Davis: The Leap. Blue Note.
Ray’s Idea: Miles Davis {alt take}.
Lee Morgan {with Jackie McLean}: Miss Nettie B.
Leon Thomas: Song for my Father.
Roland Kirk: No Tonic Pres.
Roland Kirk: Rip, Rig, and Panic.
David Murray: Abel’s Blissed Out Blues.
David Murray: Spooning.
Mal Waldron: Blues for FP.
John’s Abbey: Bud Powell.
Julius Hemphill: Dogon A.D.
Herbie Nichols: The Spinning Song.
Go Power: Arnett Cobb, and the great Eddie “Lockjaw” Davis.
Planet Earth: Adderley/Lateef sextet.
Leon Thomas : One.
One For Eric: Jack Dejohnette ensemble, w/David Murray.

π‘‡β„Žπ‘’ πΊπ‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘¦ π‘π‘’π‘šπ‘Žπ‘›: βˆ°.

The High Priest of quasi-androgynous Synth-Pop/Electronica, the Alien Deity, The Gary Numan.” *That* is the short-duration, deeply personal gist of the above Volume Integral symbol. What has been used to calculate Flux Densities, and has served as one’s WordPress Profile “About Me” content, to boot, now is more—much more—much, much more. It conveys gist; Gary Numan gist. This realm. This symbol. This Gary Numan.

“This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England…”

We’ll lead off with two {you may see three; deal with it} epoch-defining…”performances” {which will, I suppose, have to suffice, word-wise, as there exist no words suitable…}. He is **up** to something…..

The first and third videos are both from Dutch TV program TopPop, 1979. They are *not* identical, however. One, I believe, was not broadcast {the 1st; perhaps the “smiling” was considered too dangerous…}. Both are sublime.

Praying” would have to rank first, or thereabouts, in my own world. Curiously, very few live/TV iterations seem to exist. I did what I could!!

Um. WOW.

Spellbinding is Numan’s performance on Down in the Park, live at the Odeon, 1979. Doom-y, evocative, remarkable.

There’s a realm where no one can touch Gary Numan. I am *not* going to provide: its Name, Address, or Phone Number, at present. {oh, OK!}

*1 Cock Boulevard, Absorto, Chari-Baguirmi, Chad * {quite near the headquarters for Flux Density-measurin’ Volume Integral, noted Theme Park}.

He created aural landscapes which allowed access to the unfathomable. His performances have been described in so many ways. Strikingly “robotic”. Otherworldly. And there’s an edge, accompanying his trenchant intelligence; a certain wariness. At times, an unnerving camaraderie with….whatever it may be, the ritual held out in the open, hauntingly obvious, yet impenetrable. A language we’ve forgotten; mind-argot beyond our ken. Β 

π‘ƒπ‘’π‘Ÿπ‘’ π‘ƒπ‘œπ‘ π‘Šπ‘œπ‘›π‘‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘šπ‘’π‘›π‘‘, π‘£π‘œπ‘™ 1.

An ever-so-haphazard collection of songs/performances which bring one to the trancelike state of what is called Pure Pop Wonderment. These things avoid syzygy. It’s not an excuse; it’s a vigorously researched excuse. Linear-ness is overrated. Most of these you’ll know, but perhaps not these versions. Maybe 1 or 2 that are new, to, say, the likes of you. Enjoy.

π»π‘œπ‘œπ‘π‘™π‘’! {π‘€π‘œπ‘‘π‘‘, π‘‘β„Žπ‘’β€¦}

Mr. Ian Hunter, the lead vocalist and braintrust of Mott the Hoople {so named after a 1966 novel by Willard Manus}, realized early on in his life, that, at least in terms of music, he quite simply was *not* like the others. It affected him much, much more powerfully.

Hunter joined a band called Silence, which was then renamed on a whim by the svengali-like Guy Stevens, noted impresario and bon vivant. Mott enjoyed some success, but was nearing the end of its tether, when one David Bowie offered them a song. All The Young Dudes became, of course, a huge hit, an anthem, the sound of an era.

Ian continued with Mott until December, 1974, then led a somewhat less hectic and more varied lifestyle. He worked briefly with the great Mick Ronson; the final track we here offer is an almost impossibly beautiful, wistful piece of music, and it is enhanced by Ronson’s mandolin. Mott the Hoople leave a unique legacy; a band beloved well beyond what their fame/fortune would indicate…yet they are really not a “cult” band, either. How dare they.

π΅π‘Ÿπ‘–π‘Žπ‘› π‘€π‘Žπ‘¦, πΉπ‘Ÿπ‘’π‘‘π‘‘π‘–π‘’ π‘€π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘¦…π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ 𝑄𝑒𝑒𝑒𝑛.

Queen, featuring vocalist Freddie Mercury, and guitarist Brian May, with a live You’re My Best Friend, performed in December of 1979 at the Hammersmith Odeon. This shows Mercury in top form vocally; a true maestro at work.

Another shining exemplar of Queen’s formidable power is this iteration of the remarkable hit single Killer Queen. Recorded June 7, 1977 at Earl’s Court, this rendition is quite canonical. The synergy between Freddie Mercury and guitarist Brian May is really working, and both are in magnificent form. Speaking of Mercury, Roger Daltrey once stated that he was “the best virtuoso rock β€˜n’ roll singer of all time”, and well known soprano Montserrat CaballΓ© felt that β€œhis technique was astonishing; he sang with an incisive sense of rhythm; he also had a great musicality, and he was able to find the right colouring or expressive nuance for each word”. An extraordinary, charismatic performer, Mr. Mercury was described by guitarist Brian May as being so magnetic β€œhe could make the last person at the back of the furthest stand in a stadium feel that he was connected”. The British vocalist also was unafraid to rank 58th in a poll of 100 Greatest Britons, finishing just behind Alexander Graham Bell. And The Cliff Richard (??). George Harrison was bettered, however, and in the most controversial decision, legendary Welsh actor Richard Burton came-a-cropper, finishing behind—by a significant margin—the great vocalist. Observers reported the Welshman appeared visibly shaken, ashen-faced, and extremely bitter during the ceremony. Some claim he wiped away tears, as he abruptly stormed off to whereabouts unknown.

Burton later claimed ill health, but those near him were positive the Welshman wept openly, clenched his fists in impotent rage, and frequently muttered uncomplimentary remarks whilst shaking with hysteria, losing his balance more than once.” -Thrustus Simmonds, noted author of “Titans of Britondom, and Such”.

Lastly, the rousing Keep Yourself Alive. Live, 1974, at The Rainbow. Truly uplifting, and the musicianship, as was typical from this band, occupied Upper-Echelon terrain. This band indeed changed lives.

𝑿𝑻π‘ͺ, π’‡π’†π’‚π’•π’–π’“π’Šπ’π’ˆ π‘¨π’π’…π’š π‘·π’‚π’“π’•π’“π’Šπ’…π’ˆπ’†.

Few bands can match XTC’s accomplishments as far as writing/performing memorably quirky, intellectual, and, yes, catchy songs. Lead vocalist Andy Partridge provides the oddball genius charisma to generate a potent cocktail of aural nirvana.

A masterpiece from Rockpalast.
A brilliant, somewhat crazed version.

𝑻𝒉𝒆 π‘―π’π’π’π’Šπ’†π’”.

The Hollies, a superb three-part harmony group {primarily}, fronted by the amazing Allan Clarke, had many a monster hit, including the Albert Hammond-penned The Air That I Breathe; these are their three finest—all live performances—to mine ear.

π‘‡β„Žπ‘’ 𝐿𝑒𝑛𝑒 πΏπ‘œπ‘£π‘–π‘β„Ž

Bewildering Semaphore-like Movements.

Lili-Marlene Premilovich, later known as Lene Lovich, preternaturally idiosyncratic—and gifted—songstress, happens to play saxophone, is an animal rights activist, and initially wore her hair in braids to keep the locks from the clay, when in art school, studying sculpture. And, damn, she can deliver a tune. With octaves to spare {hear: Momentary Breakdown}.