It Don't Mean A Thing: under the spell

I remember Dizzy Gillespie's hearty laugh while he was waiting for the elevator just before his concert at the Salle Pleyel

I remember John Coltrane being booed for his free form jazz.

In Paris, Mahalia soothes the tanks

I remember the tanks placed at strategic street corners on my way to the Olympia Theatre to listen to Mahalia Jackson.

Say Amen Somebody

I remember the effect/affect the first Gospel songs I heard had on my psyche. I immediately knew it was MY music. Soul Brother indeed!

I remember going to see Black Nativity [1][2] twice in Paris in the same week. I remember listening to Reverend Alex Bradford's [1][2] and Marion Williams'records [1][2].

Guess who is coming to lunch?

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A site by Jean-Claude