Once upon a summertime

Miles Davis and Gil Evans began dating in the late 40 when already 'training with Parker was in crisis. Again, Miles was unconventional, it was not easy to accept the community 'of blacks to be seen with a white.

Gil Evans, a mystical figure in jazz, his arrangements are something of a visionary, imaginative, the wind sweeps the listeners of his horns, paint color palettes that seem unreal and visionary until 'do not buy their own reality' in the moment of execution. Miles always attracted by the sound, the experimental approaches to this world of Gil Evans sounds can produce. This meeting, which will succeed 'to attract around two musicians refined and cultivated people like Gerry Mulligan and Lee Konitz (once white) will produce' some things are essential and memorable in the history of jazz, bop key to overcoming the experience of 40 years ferried to Miles and Jazz in the 60's up to the disintegration of standards. The highest point 'top of this partnership and' certainly achieved in the album Porgy and Bess and Sketches of Spain beautiful, a work of symphonic jazz, to listen to from beginning to end, where the sounds' available to the genius of Evans are used all their potential, winds traveling from low range, up to superacuti, classical percussion, Latin, harps, any cue is used at most by Gil Evans to give the right support to the genius of Miles. Tonight I randomly and 'came to hand a disk less famous was born from this collaboration, Quiet Nights of 1963, a mature hard, I turned on the stereo and was impressed by the modernity' of sounds, from complexity 'rich timbre of the lines that develop under the melody, arrangements modern, timeless and still unsurpassed. They resemble the way so 'introverted piano-playing Gil Evans, down on its rich harmonies, refined textures, patterns sound as solid as those who loved Miles to fly light on the notes. Once upon a Summertime (La Valse Des Lilas) beautiful song by Michel Legrand, translated into English by the great Mercer, nostalgia and melancholy song from the infinite, and make it difficult to tell, that Gil Evans paints with tones dreamlike film, with fades on the past, windows sound that suddenly split open with the howling of wind, while reassuring the trumpet and painfully narrated by Miles exposes the issue. Sudden openings which close on more blue notes that Miles brings the atmosphere of melancholy memories, with the drums almost disintegrated and fragmented that tell nearly a irregular heart beat. A true marvel that leaves me with no other possibility 'than to listen any longer' times this great page of modern jazz, in my desperate search for color and meaning.

(La Valse Des Lilas)

On ne peut pas vivre to the Ainsi que fais
On a sou-ve-nir here n'est plus qu'un regret
Sans sans autre et a love secret
Qu'un peu de larmes
Pour ces that ques-pages de Melancolie
You as the livre de ferme ta-way
And as you cru que tout etait end .....
Mais tous les lilas de Mai N'en diniront N'en finiront jamais
De fair 'the fete au coeur des gens here s'aiment s'aiment
Tant que tournera tournera Que le temps jusqu'au dernier
Jusqu 'Prin-temps au dernier
The aura le ciel ciel asra vingt and
Les Amoureux auront en tout Autant ....

(Once upon a summertime)

Once upon a summertime, If you recall,
we stopped beside a little flower stall.
A bunch of bright forget me nots was all
(I'd let you buy me) (You'd let me buy you).
One Upon a Summertime, Just like today,
we Laughed the happy way to afternoon,
and stole a kiss in ev'ry street cafe.
'You Were sweeter than the blossome on the tree.
I was as proud as any (girl) (Man) Could Be,
As if the Mayor HAD Offered me the key to Par-is!
Now, another winter has come and gone.
The feeding pigeons in the square have flown,
but I remember When The Vespers chime.
You loved me, Once Upon a Summertime.

(On Air Once Upon a Summertime Miles Davis & Gil Evans)

I've grown accustomed to her face

I've grown accustomed to her face.
She Almost Makes the day begin.
I've grown accustomed to the tune That
She whistles night and noon.
Her smiles, her frowns,
Her ups, her downs
Are second nature to me now;
Like breathing in and breathing out.
I was serenely independent and content before we met;
Surely I Could Always Be That Way-again
And yet
I've grown accustomed to her look;
Accustomed to her voice;
Accustomed to her face.

(I've grown accustomed to Air On her face Quoyle Plan)

(I've grown accustomed to Air On her face from Brad Mehldau Anything Goes)

It is sweet misery

And often the words and images are unnecessary, the flavor of ancient music, a little air of Monteverdi, reinterpreted by Uri Caine and Paolo Fresu, sweet is the anguish, time travel this time, it is thrown back with sweetness and melancholy, as they are inscribed within us these melodies, as the taste of history, how many special offer, the cloud of emotions and time.

Sweet is the torment (Claudio Monteverdi)
The
It is sweet torment e'l
Ch'in is within me,
I live contented
For raw beauty.
In that heaven of beauty
S'accreschi pride
And lacking piety:
What always what rock
Wave of pride
My faith will be.

II
The false hope
Rivolgam 'footer.
Beloved peace will
Do not fall for me.
And the impious adore
Deny me rest
Good mercy:
Among infinite pain,
Of hope betrayed
He will live my faith

III
If the flame of love
've Never heard
That core riggido
Ch'il ravished my heart,
If denies pity
The crude beltate
That became enamored soul:
Ben twill be that painful,
Repented and languishing
Sospirimi one day.

(On Air Paolo Fresu and Uri Caine Live Cully Jazz Festival 2004 is sweet misery)

Still at sea

The size of the travel and 'one that fascinates me in music, an endless journey, discovering new angles, new smells, new wonders, trails that are open to listening, and randomly in the trip being in front of strangers, and tell you will take your breath away, as in this case, the path created by a random suggestion, the sound of the title Still at Sea, Still at Sea, I feel before I listen, I like, Kirk Nurock, I do not know, never heard a pianist and heard, but his name sounds good.
And here's this new panorama, simple, and beautiful, winter spices and melancholy, the music gets inside me, and the path is materialized, and I wish I could write a poem to tell what these notes tell me, and I would be able to communicate what that inexplicably goes wild at times listening to a piece of music. Still at sea ...

(On air Kirck Nurock Still at Sea)

Bewitched

I'm wild again, Beguiled again
A simpering, whimpering child again
Bewitched, bothered and bewildered - am I

(On Air Bewitched Quoyle Plan)

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