Thursday, 13 August 2015

International Jazz Fest on the Rhine (2015) - Friday & Saturday, Aug. 21, 22.

A wonderful line-up of concerts, if you love music and are fortunate to be in the vicinity, by all means do not miss this.


- 19h
Red Orchestra: Angela Requena Fuentes (dr), Paul Janoschka (p), Jan Dittmann (b)

- 20.30h
Richie Beirach (piano solo)

- 22h
Susan Weinert Global Players Trio: Susan Weinert (g), Martin Weinert (b), Florian Schneider (dr)


Ylativ Algo: Olga Reznichenko (p), Jan Kyncl (t sax), Vitaly Kiseleve (tp), Lukas Growe (b), Philip Theurer (d)

Regina Litvinova (p), Tamara Lukasheva (v)

Drei im roten Kreis meets the Talking Horns:
Achim Fink (tba/trb), Andreas Gilgenberger (sax), Stephan Schulze (tba/trb), Berns Winterschladen (sax), Reiner Witzel (sax), Joscha Oetz (b), Christian Scheuber (d)



(regarding the photos: I'm only aware at the moment of the author of Richie Beirach's (which is on his "Trust" Album) - an image by David Tan,
  and two others among those I just found on the internet : Drei im roten Kreis - by Manfred Rinderspacher,

  and Susan Weinert's which is by Michael M. Roth)

Wednesday, 12 August 2015

Beneath an Evening Sky - the blossoming of impermanence

Yes, the day with all its hues of blue is a wondrous thing,
where Time seems to drift at a constant (more or less),
when we are blind to Space 
from all the light, 
when All - nos remete à Nossa esfera, ao Nosso corpo celeste (de aquáticos tons, giratório e de existência(s) concentrica(s)), à 
ilusão do nosso pensamento, fractal e fragmentário - is not visible though the illusion is so profoundly ironic, with all its reflected light upon so many things; although we know it to be a fraction, it seems our mind only grasps what, where and when the eye can see,
stopping thenceforth 
with each day's demise "sight" changes 
(as does "sound", but its weight in our perception of things, along with its keenness should merit another post. Actually the subject is best "viewed", in my opinion, though authors such as - Link)

Ah, it is getting dark..

Image: G. Almeida

the night - 
as one is given back the truth of one's dimension with the unveiling of the universe and the earth turning back into that nomadic spacecraft sailing the expanses along with its solar partners, ships among their stars that they in truth.. are

(truth?.. Well, whether one fathoms the Truth or not - I suppose it is the closest one can get before being enlightened (the enlightenment of "Nothing" and "All"), 
as one peeks, 
drifting further and further, 
vertigo here and there as one perceives beyond the three dimensions, 
the fourth and the joining of the 4 - Becoming a Duo, a dual state whilst in conversation 
with the Universe, at times shyly, 
at times as the forever existent child within, yet at times almost older in a funny way, 
being talked back to in a similar fashion, then you both look back upon it all. 
All? ...
There is solace in the dark matter that covers much of what IS, 
Was and Will Be 
as there is in mortality 
as there is in the fluidity of that which is ephemeral in being.....)

The skin tingles with the freshness of the night's breeze and 
with a quick movement of the chair 
your balance is off, 
You place one foot on the ground 
and surrender. 

So many stars 
and so little time.

image - link

I think one of the meteors crashed into my little toe

A funny thing about the Perseids (and other meteor showers) is 
that it has always seemed (to me) to be a manifestation of something bigger, 
the Universe coming in 
to tickle 

Everything may well be impermanent but, 
that doesn't mean it doesn't tickle (sometimes).

Good night.

(ao dar nome às estrelas cadentes, elas, as estrelas escrevem no céu o que nos vai na alma. O que nos vai na alma, ao contrário dos tons do céu, pode conter mais coisas mas, não muda. Há coisas que não mudam, nem mesmo o universo, por muitas definições que se lhe consigam arranjar.  Pode até nem existir, ou ser tudo não mais que um espirro de um cão obrigado a comer um remédio em forma de biscoito.  Se existe ou não o dito universo, é outra questão.)

Estas horas da noite levam-nos para "outros universos", outros colos. Está na hora de recolher e deixar as estrelas caírem noutras cabeças. Boa noite.

( existir o universo? A existência de moscas, por exemplo, faz-me crer que sim. 
Quem iria querer imaginar tais seres? 
Fazem parte do eco-quê?  
E quem iria imaginar um eco-nãosei-dasquantas tão vasto?

Não. Deve existir mesmo, com moscas e tudo, 
inclusive os blocos de cimento que ostentam no lombo  
após uma das estrelas se esconder 
que se colocam, de forma mafarriquenta, ante os pés.
Quem iria inventar, por muito humor que tenha, as cabras das moscas?)

image: G. Almeida

(digo que vou recolher mas, só mais um pouco 
não me fará mal.  
Não será a primeira vez 
que adormeço de baixo de cadentes estrelas)


It is, after all, a new moon out tonight
(not sure if it's really that new, but then again isn't it always 
as each day passes before our eyes?)

Good night.

image taken from a Nasa Video

Sunday, 2 August 2015

August is a state of mind

Ella Fitzgerald

What can I say?
She was (and is) one of the definitions of beauty.

A musician's nightmare (one of them that is) may well be being confronted with having to interpret something so apparently overdone that the mere thought of it makes him or her queasy, but, all of a sudden out of nowhere something (or rather "someone") happens.
Along comes Ella, telling us - making us feel - we are but fools
(I'm pretty sure someone of her stature would never utter such a thing, or even feel it.
She did so, even if unwittingly, for such is the way with unuttered truths when we come across them).
Genius is always able to, with authority, show us profound truth through a bafflingly simple gesture, interpretation, creation, quickly scribbled line of words, or equation.  Of course, it can also be more elaborate and remarkably so, but, it always seems to reveal its "stuff" as if it were a quick turn of a wrist, or a dew drop falling into a pail of water; and it does so with an uncanny and apparent simplicity.

August is here.
Sometimes it's always present, as when Time seems to stop (similar to the times when one sees, hears, or touches something beautiful, and even if in mere recollection within the mind's eye, ear or body).
The word "sometimes" seems odd, doesn't it?
It seems that one of the "relative" aspects of the dimension - Time - is its subjectivity.
When time slows down or more than that, when it "stops", everything and anything is "always".

In this sense "August" is a state of mind.


I had just seen this y-tube video of Ella's Summertime. It was posted on social media by a dear friend (Luisa Vasquez).

I thought to myself  «Oh my goodness, it's "Summertime" ...but, but, but, ..but it's Ella. I have to hear it; I simply have to,» - and was of course, mesmerized.

Here is a case when one is so very thankful for "recordings".  I can't even begin to imagine what it would be like to actually be in the presence of such a rendition, but, one thing I can say, thank goodness for it having been recorded.

No matter the instrument, be it a trumpet, sax, voice, bass, drums, tablas, piano or whatever it may be, it is not merely a case of tone, phrasing, dynamics or general technical ability. It's a case of "authenticity".
That's why it hits you - 'smack' - in the gut.
That's why Time changes speed.
That's why "Space" changes its shape and dimensions.
That's when we are confronted with our own being, and perceive it - through Time & through Space.

She has given me back

The mark of someone truly extraordinary is when they keep on moving us, even when they're no longer here.

(of course - I prefer it when they're still around but that's another issue, having to do with the selfishness of not appreciating their going off to some other plane.., we can be a greedy lot, i know i am, and in some instances my greed has no limits. Acceptance is one thing, the joy and greed for having certain "someones" around - while we're still here, is quite another)

Happy August.

Quando uma pessoa despeja (por assim dizer) o que lhe vai na alma, 
numa língua, fica-se sem 
vontade em se auto-traduzir,
 ao contrário do caso de traduzir outras pessoas
 (falo por mim, está claro).
 Não é por falta de amizade a quem
 lê noutras línguas, de todo, mas por me sentir em repetição.
 Será uma falha minha, bem sei, e por isso peço desculpa.
 Em todo o caso, o que digo não é importante,
 o que o é neste artigo, sem dúvida, é a interpretação
 e a alma de quem assim canta.
 Tenho sempre aquele respeito especial por quem cria
 mas, no caso musical, por exemplo, 
não pode ficar por aí simplesmente.
 É o interprete, e a sua
 interpretação, quer seja a do próprio autor,
 quer seja a de outra pessoa, que
 nos oferece a obra - e se com este nível de "genuinidade",
 isso não é menos precioso.
 Uma coisa não tira à outra.
Aqui, para além da notável presença desta mulher tão,
 mas tão especial,
 é o trabalho de conjunto,
 coisa que também nos impõe uma beleza formidável,
 e que nos oferece assim, de novo,
 a notável criação.

São coisas assim, e falo por mim, que nos remetem à fragilidade e grandeza da vida, do efémero da mesma, da beleza da
 mortalidade e da doçura de qualquer estação que, na verdade, pode nos habitar em (e a) qualquer altura.

Desejando-vos, a todos que por aqui passem, um belíssimo Agosto.


(Não posso deixar de agradecer a uma querida amiga, a Luisa Vasquez,
 por ter colocado esta versão, deste clássico que acabo de ver, numa rede social)