Word: pharoahic
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...intended to look DuPont in the eye and say, "Write a novel sir," to which DuPont would have snorted "Balderdash!" or something equally puerile. But Shapiro was fascinated by what was moving up from his gastro-intestinal tract; slowly yes, but inexorably moving, and he felt the way pharoah's charioteers must have felt when they saw the Red Sea falling in on them, and nowhere to run. Up, up, up it came--and there it was, he figured he might as well make it good, and threw up in Mrs. DuPont...
...into "So Little Time," a plea for universal harmony, followed in turn by "Thank Heaven for You," an old-fashioned love song. Near the end, "Sermon," which prays for an era when Blacks "won't have to fight to keep from fighting," serves as a prelude to "Fighting for Pharoah," which asks the audience to join hands and do some "living for peace...
Unless you like the new Buddha-ized version of formerly great drummer Norman Connors. Like other back-up men to Pharoah Sanders, Connors had a strong reputation as a hard driving drummer. But Buddha has apparently taken that away from him. At least he doesn't jive around with that disco stuff...
...Americans owe allegiance to George III? The author calls him "the royal brute of Great Britain" and a "hardened, sullen-tempered Pharoah." Do any monarchs have a hereditary right to rule their subjects? The author argues that dynasties are founded by "nothing better than the principal ruffian of some restless gang." Does America depend on Britain for safety or prosperity? Only in "the credulous weakness of our minds." Would it be better to delay? "Every thing that is right or reasonable pleads for separation. The blood of the slain, the weeping voice of nature cries, 'TIS TIME TO PART...
Sanders. I took some of my own medicine this weekend and journeyed to see Pharoah Sanders at the Workshop. Ugh. The Pharoah realty scalped me. He played for about half of the hour-long set and when he did, he was confusing at best. Throughout the most ludicrous portions of the concerts, when Pharoah was shreiking beyond belief, positively driving everybody up the walls, the woman next to me was smiling cheerfully, apparently pleased by his sax turned pneumatic drill. At the end of one incredibly excruciating stretch I asked her how she did it. She turned toward me dumbly...