I’m a Cecil lady, but not a huge Cecil lady (too-abrasive style, obnoxious flying elbows). However, it’s Jazz Pianists week in my apartment (Peterson, Jamal), I finally got Dark to Themselves, I heard Cecil was the inspiration behind Sen Dog and EPMD’s bucket hats, and I thoroughly enjoy Cecil’s charming DNA makeup of “iconoclast operating on a far more spiritual plane than the rest of us” + “bitter old shit-talker” (about Wynton Marsalis – so I totally get it, Cecil).
The name Horace is derived from Latin and means “timekeeper.” What Google doesn’t realize, however, is it also means “Los Angeles man whose albums jazz nerds shall seek.” On Flying Dutchman for about 5 minutes before he got in a fistfight with Thiele and left for Nimbus (at least that’s what I heard), Tapscott was a music deity and I cannot articulate the excitement that flooded my body when I found this record. If you ever see it, GET IT. PS The open on this album sounds, oddly enough, like a giant being awakened.
I found this at the store, put it under my arm and started to walk out. The man behind the counter told me to come back and pay for it, to which I replied Nope – it’s FREE JAZZ, dummy bahahahah. Ha.
Mr. Coleman is your high school art teacher’s favorite sax god, but he’s MY favorite supernerd who studied theory and composition, asked his audience to re-think accepted ideas of chord patterns and harmony, and consistently played like a big ol weirdo from the start even though nobody really got it…until years later, when everybody got it. Sigh.