The irony, of course, was that after so many years trying to kill himself with booze and drugs, it was fucked up when Warren Zevon, sober and otherwise healthy, contracted mesothelioma, the terrible cancer of the lungs that delivered the coup de grace.
I was in a state of high excitement at the prospect of seeing Pharoah Sanders play the Celebrate Brooklyn festival in June 2018. This was not just another musician gracing the great outdoor amphitheater stage in Prospect Park.
Sons d'hiver (Winter Sounds) has been running in Paris for almost three decades, presenting artists on the perimeter of jazz, usually with a pair of acts each evening, and taking up most of February. For the festival's last weekend (22nd/23rd) of its accustomed three-week run, Paris was basking in unseasonal sunshine, and spring sounds were already sprouting.
I've seen so many gigs that are all smoke and mirrors. It's really bringing me down. Gimmicks and language that have been used so many times before. Folks playing for what's outside and not for what is inside. There's nothing new under the sun but hey, though the moon only mirrors the sun's light it is after all an entity unto itself. Listener and player are easily fooled.
Whenever I am asked which Dylan biography one should read (if you are only going to read one) my answer is always Clinton Heylin's Behind the Shades Revisited, the 2001 revised second edition of his probing and provocative 1991 classic.