Word: roosted
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There is soul and fuddle here. Heat and hesitation. The grace of real genius and at times a touch of madness. Among the five CDs that constitute The Complete Bud Powell On Verve and the four that make up The Complete Blue Note and Roost Recordings (Capitol), you get a deep experience of his gift and his torment. It is, much of it, great jazz. All of it is vital. These separate CD sets are neither monument nor memorial, even though this year marks the 70th anniversary of Powell's birth. Rather, the recordings provide a map of trails blazed...
Well, it looks like the chickens have come home to roost, so to speak. Twelve days left until my thesis is due, and I still haven't given any written work to my advisor. True, we talk a lot, but what was it that J. Edgar Hoover used to say..."The time for talk has passed." Or something like that...
...from enjoying the spectacle of lawyerly litigiousness gone wild. Tribe is being sued by Lightning Lube, the company which he represented in a suit that contested the verdict against the company in a suit against it. It looks like chickens (or in this case, sharks) have come home to roost. And sharks cannabalism is such a rare thing that when it happens, all the rest of the fish in the sea can't help gathering to savor the spectacle...
...later. So Wynn, a child his mother describes as precocious and sometimes devilish, was not just an ordinary firstborn: he was a sacred child. Meanwhile his father, Michael, was often away from their home in Utica, New York, supervising bingo parlors he owned in three states. "Steve ruled the roost," says Wynn's wife Elaine. "Mike was not home, meaning that there was no paternal supervision. Zelma was a pussycat. She didn't have the -- I don't want to say the knowledge or instincts -- but maybe not the patience to deal with Steve...
...Work on the music and let the image take care of itself. With his new album, the cure is in hand. My World offers 10 songs, some tonic sonic production, and the man himself, sounding looser and more engaged than he has since Seattle blew in and rap took roost. My World is touched by up-to-date accents -- a techno flourish here, a bit of street beat there -- but it mostly presents Ray Charles himself, foursquare, singing from the soulful heart of pop. And that's plenty good enough...