Thursday, May 14, 2015

The Passionate Listener


The Bird (my eldest kid) and I listen to a lot of music together. Our drives to school this week have been dominated by Koko Taylor and Dionne Warwick. On the way home it has been Johnny Cash every afternoon. Listening to music together is a fundamental part of our family life. There isn't any censorship of content or hierarchy of genre. The musical relationship the Bird and I have is an extension of the way I learned to appreciate and love different kinds of music as a kid. Music was everywhere and part of everything. There was R&B, Soul and Rock & Roll. My mom had a love for Standards she embedded into my soul. When visiting her family in the Caribbean, Soca and Country played all day. The only break was the news on BBC World Service. At home with the Mexican side of my family, Rancheras and the songs of the mariachi filled the days. On Saturday mornings, my aunt cleaned the house while listening to Pedro Infante and Juan Gabriel on the hi-fi. Before I could choose music for myself, my elders' musical tastes became the soundtrack of my life.

The musical foundation of my childhood bloomed into a teen love of LA Hair Metal, New Wave and Rap. College was all about Classic Rock. I am dabbling in Opera now and coyly flirting with Bluegrass. The Blues has taken over my life.

There is always more music to consume the heart and fill the ears. Every so often, I'll share a short list of the music that's making me happy in a post called 'The Passionate Listener.' Here is the first installment:
Carmen McRae 'Ms. Jazz'  is one of my all-time favorite musicians. The Passionate Listener could only begin with her.  




Miles Davis Quartet opening for Grateful Dead, 1970 Fillmore West.
 
 
I don't understand a word they are singing, but thy are feeling the song and so am I. Bryn Terfel, Judith Howard, Marcelo Alvarez, and Denyce Graves are the singers.

 
 
'Oya' and 'Mama Says' by Ibeyi because one song is not enough.
 
 
 
 
 
The healing waters of Koko Taylor Chicago Blues are a balm for the soul.
 
 

 
 
 
The one and only “Chente,” Vicente Fernandez.
 



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