Word: sax
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...will share smokers' illegal-alien status. Cigarette users must huddle in the ragtag solidarity of their serene, intense habit. Defiantly, they say, "We look so cool, don't we, waving our wicked wands in the air. Our voices have the knowing, late-night duskiness of alto-sax jazz. We pack more fun into life because we know, better than all those who stare darts our way, how short life is. We are nature's bravados, medicine's death-row aesthetes." As the health magazines remind us, absolutely everything can kill you. So smokers figure they may as well...
...Local sax master Cercie Miller opens her debut album leading her own quartet with the standard "My Shining Hour;" her energetic rendering of this oft covered classic promises good things to come. Cercie screams her way through the song, as her band--Bruce Katz on piano and organ, Dave Clark on bass and Bob Savine on drums--falls perfectly into place behind her, combining their tight rhythmic sensibility with subtle flourishes. By the time the song fades out to the strains of a still smokin' jam, it is clear that this is a band whose members are comfortable with their...
...Fire, and Billy Preston.Preston's "Outta-Space," the second track on thisalbum, features a thick funk groove underneathPreston's organ and key work. Oh yeah, there's agreat instrumental version of Led Zeppelin's"Whole Lotta Love" with King Curtis screaming outRobert Plant's vocal line on his sax, producing aprophetic marriage of funk/soul orchestrationswith heavy metal...
...tribute, "celebrating [the] legacy of Cannonball Adderly, Miles Davis, and John Coltrane," as this first tune was long associated with the late trumpeter Davis. The front line of elder Lew Soloff on trumpet, younger Javon Jackson on tenor saxophone and Williams' contemporary and dynamo Bobby Watson on alto sax blasted out the tunes' head. The roles were set from then: Soloff showing incredible range in high notes mixed with David-like licks in the middle range, Watson with veritable sheets of sound wailing, and Jackson with a mature and noticeably improved opening solo. Running alongside, bassist Richard Reid was consistent...
...singing, screaming, growling, roaring, and whinnying through my sax. I felt at once like a liberated women-mental patient-slave-stresscase soul. I was jogged back to reality, out of Guy's "free space" and back into the Prescott Street band room, by my own sweat and shaking body. When it was all over, I looked around and saw everyone awed and spent...