Tag Archives: Gil Fuller

Free Write Friday ~ Grace Notes by JM Fuller featuring “The Shadow of Your Smile~ Gil Fuller & Monterey Jazz Festival Orchestra performed by Dizzy Gillespie

 

let-the-beauty

Happy Free Write Friday!  Wishing you a joyous holiday season filled Joy, fun, inspiration, freedom and peace…

This is an excerpt from:  The Sounds I Felt:  Improvisations on Freedom This is a Literary Companion to my father’s CD and the selection that sums up my Season of Improvisation in 1965 is “The Shadow of Your Smile” (Love Theme from the Sandpiper) I hope you enjoy it

Grace Notes

Dear Dad,

Thank you for giving me life.

Mom and God gave me all the rest.

Here’s what I have learned from my greatest teachers….

My journey began from the 1st sound of you humming the song you wrote for me.

Releasing my heart to search for the life that is waiting for me.

You were the one who taught me to dance atop your feet when you were called

To be the Conductor for the 1965 Monterey Jazz Festival Orchestra

The summer of 1965 would be my master class in the art of jazz improvisation.

It was a master class filled with civil, women’s rights and a cultural revolution that changed the face of American Life

August set things off.

Bringing forth a Tsunamic red tide attacking, redefining Life with discordant notes of ignorance, illiteracy, desolation, fear and destruction.

And so my song took flight.

Timing is critical in jazz as in life,

Knowing when to stop, start, step it up, slow it down

And more so,  and

oh so important is to learn how to wait thru the strife.

Jazz harmony is the theory and practice of changing chords,

where major and minor scales share the same space in a timeless             bond…

progressions depart in thirds and stacked fourths

favoring harmonic progressions where tensions in intervals                          of 9th , 11th, or 13th abound.

Learned about the search for meaning, intentions and having the blues

Finding your truth and appreciating a life of humility

‘cause the universe is misting the air with valuable clues

now you have the essence of a universal tranquility.

Notes are just window dressing a façade you create

listen to the spoken word filled with meaning

of the path and choices you debate

Play it slant is the message best heard in the evening.

Learned that being different is the integral part of the plan

pressing forward seeing how far you can reach

harmonies in real-time, flowing and ebbing broadening the span

of improvisational context is what matters in all you teach .

Learned that playing jazz has four elements

broadening your words and expressing every letter

in a charismatic way to enhance

finding your intentions and mixing all together

where freedom and coordination can really dance.

Jazz has the power to go deep within,

having a relationship with you as next of kin

surpassing arrogance into a love of sound and words

sharing that experience like the legends you’ve heard.

Now three years after your death,

I discovered in your music room the Gibson Guitar in case you                    gave to me

Nestled beneath the pristine guitar

A hand written note to me,

like in a bottle,

Uncorked my heart you wrote,

July 30, 1979

Jan,

Jazz is my language. 

Notes are all I know to tell you how much I love you,

And I know that that is not what you wanted,

I wanted to spare you the struggles I faced to be

Your dad and to express the love for my family through

Jazz without words.

So now I am going to tell you that I know you

Were secretly writing in your room.

I want you to know what I couldn’t express it in notes…

If you truly want to be a writer,

you will have to sacrifice your life.

 that words are the loves of your life. 

It is a choice that you cannot shake. 

It brings happiness, patience, love and peace.

You are miserable and tortured if you don’t write.

Self-expression is overrated when it comes to

the ‘hour of the wolf’

 when it seems that the words are discordant and fretful. 

The trick is they are your children

 be humble and allow them the love and respect that you claim for yourself. 

 I was very fortunate to have met your mother, she gave me you and your brother. 

So I did not have to make that choice alone. 

So your family is words and jazz replete with lessons on life,

discernment and discovering who you are,

who you’ve been and most of all be grateful

to God for the talent to write.  

Write your heart out, share your soul.

That is what happens to me when I am writing a song. 

The notes are my children too.  I know you think that I made your life difficult,

but you will realize some day that when you look back

it is the fuel you’ll need to be who you are.

That’s your story. 

Love Dad

In 2000, I was saved by jazz

healing my soul and my body from

breast cancer’s trials and tribulations

Finding peace on earth filled with

joyous jubilation!

I am waiting and discovering a life filled with wonder and love…

I am definitely on the right wake…

portions of hard times, mean and hurtful folks, mistakes, failures

creating a wisdom that it is

It is not the number of years in a life that matters…it is the life in the years that counts.

To this end, for all of my life coaches,

I have,

Fallen in love with sounds and words,

They are truly the grace notes that have transfromed

and healed my life.

Thank you so much,

Your loving daughter,

Jannat

Copyright © 2016 by JM Fuller/Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick/. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ https://isurvivorchick.wordpress.com/.  Readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance for any or all of this content.

 

 

Back To the Future ~Monterey Jazz Festival 2016 Remembering the Terror featuring “A Terror is More Certain . . . By Bob Kaufman”

 

Forty years ago today, large sections of South Los Angeles went up in flames. The violence and looting came to be known as the Watts riots. The chaos was a precursor to the urban unrest other cities would soon experience. In a few moments, we’ll hear from a man who continues to activism that sprang from the 1965 riots, but, first, some history. ~ Adolfo Guzman Lopez, Reporter for KPCC

Where were you when the Watts riots dropped the Tsunami of hate, violence, and most of all fear and pierced the veil of the Depression and the 50’s through the Industrial Revolution and the Information technology of Left Brainers sans the Compassion.  It was just a matter of time before the Mind-Spirit portion of our Humanness becomes awakened to the unintended consequences of miracles and breakthroughs to automate and replace people.  It has been over twenty years since Ihave been a survivor and the longer I survive the worse it gets.  People nowadays get that glazed look on their face when you say you are a survivor.  I first was in sensed because when the time came and I put my DNR into place and when it came time at 2:32 am on November 20, 2000 for me to be rolled back into the operating room and me stopping the gurney by holding onto the door frame “Wait, I have a DNR!  Where the hell are we going?”  Through her mask, “…let go, your mom rescinded it.”  “Mom, what the He** is going on?  Can’t you just let me go?  After ten excruciatingly dizzying beats, “Not Now!”

That was my Fourth Noble Truth,  that  I figured out in my memoir where using jazz improvisation techniques, mindfulness meditations and literary and visual arts have saved my life.  It was 1965 that kicked it all into motion and that is why I thought that sharing in the Freedom Beats companion would prove how I regard my breast cancer journey on a jazz lit canvas.  The memories I seem to remember were having the feeling of helplessness, fear and at eleven years old, that was some pretty deep stuff.  That is why I selected Bob Kaufman’s A Terror is More Certain  capturing how listening to Angel City Blues the song beginning light and deliberations to an absolute terror filled frenzy of destruction and loss.  What feelings do you experience when you listen?  Peace Out!

A Terror is More Certain . . .

By Bob Kaufman

A terror is more certain than all the rare desirable popular songs I
know, than even now when all of my myths have become . . . , & walk
around in black shiny galoshes & carry dirty laundry to & fro, & read
great books & don’t know criminals intimately, & publish fat books of
the month & have wifeys that are lousy in bed & never realize how
bad my writing is because i am poor & symbolize myself.

A certain desirable is more terror to me than all that’s rare. How
come they don’t give an academic award to all the movie stars that
die? they’re still acting, ain’t they? even if they are dead, it should
not be held against them, after all they still have the public on their
side, how would you like to be a dead movie star & have people sit-
ting on your grave?

A rare me is more certain than desirable, that’s all the terror, there
are too many basketball players in this world & too much progress
in the burial industry, lets have old fashioned funerals & stand
around & forgive & borrow wet handkerchiefs, & sneak out for
drinks & help load the guy into the wagon, & feel sad & make a
date with the widow & believe we don’t see all of the people sink-
ing into the subways going to basketball games & designing baby
sitters at Madison Square Garden.

A certain me is desirable, what is so rare as air in a Poem, why can’t
i write a foreign movie like all the other boys my age, I confess to all
the crimes committed during the month of April, but not to save
my own neck, which is adjustable, & telescopes into any size noose,
I’m doing it to save Gertrude Stein’s reputation, who is secretly
flying model airplanes for the underground railroad stern gang of
oz, & is the favorite in all the bouts . . . not officially opened yet
Holland tunnel is the one who writes untrue phone numbers.

A desirable poem is more rare than rare, & terror is certain, who
wants to be a poet & work a twenty four hour shift, they never ask
you first, who wants to listen to the radiator play string quartets all
night. I want to be allowed not to be, suppose a man wants to
swing on the kiddie swings, should people be allowed to stab him
with queer looks & drag him off to bed & its no fun on top of a
lady when her hair is full of shiny little machines & your a**
reflected in that television screen, who wants to be a poet if you
f**k on t.v. & all those cowboys watching.

Bob Kaufman, “A Terror is More Certain . . .” from Cranial GuitarCopyright © 1996 by Eileen Kaufman. Reprinted by permission of Coffee House Press. http://www.coffeehousepress.org

Source: Cranial Guitar (Coffee House Press, 1996)

Copyright © 2016 by JM Fuller/Jannat Marie/Jazzybeatchick/. All rights Reserved.

This material has been copyrighted, feel free to share it with others; it can be distributed via social media or pingbacks or added to websites; please do not change the original content and please provide appropriate credit by including the author’s name or visual artist @ https://isurvivorchick.wordpress.com/.  Readers shall not be charged by you under any circumstance for any or all of this content.