There’s one more week to endure before my all-haloed “Recovery Week” and, believe me, I’m ready.  There was already a 2100m drill swim with HRH  this morning and later this afternoon there will a speed run to boot (fingers crossed anyway…), so this afternoon I want to return to the mat with a core workout (Day 107) that have been slacking a bit as of late.

The upshot to this of course is that I get to listen to one of the many records I brought home from this weekend’s vinyl shopping extravaganza in Rochester, NY, the ‘Liberian Suite: A Tone Parallel to Harlem‘  album by Duke Ellington.


I promised Kelly and Hailey I would only spend 15 minutes at The Bop Shop in Rochester on our way home from a weekend of visiting with Uncle Lance and Aunt Amy.  And trying to be true to my word I went looking for only Duke Ellington albums since I’ve more or less pillaged all the shops in my area of Ellington albums.  Fortunately, the shop had about a kazillion albums, many of which I have never seen before and this was only the first album I nabbed up.

By 1947, when Ellington jumped to Columbia after a brief stay at Musicraft (following six years at RCA Victor), he had one of the best bands anyone ever led, in any category of music.  The tragedy was that Columbia squandered its opportunity to use them.  The group spent almost a full year cutting short-form single tracks, and didn’t get around to doing any of the more challenging music that Ellington was writing until the December 24, 1947 session that yielded this album, after which it got caught in the Musician’s Union recording ban and wasn’t in the studio again until 1949.

Liberian Suite‘  brought Ellington to a new level of recognition.  He’d begun writing multi-section suites in the early ’40s, but this album was his first international commission, from the government of the African nation, to celebrate the 100th anniversary of its founding by freed American slaves; it was the first formal manifestation of a process by which Ellington would be a virtual musical ambassador to the world by the end of the next decade.

As to the music, it is not Ellington’s most sophisticated, but it is filled with bracing rhythms, juicy parts for the horns and saxes, and one stunning vocal part. Harry Carney may not be Frank Sinatra, but his vocal performance on the opening section, ‘I Like the Sunrise‘, is so beguiling in its subdued way, that it is definitive. ‘Dance No. 2‘  is the outstanding movement among the instrumental sections with a gorgeous Jimmy Hamilton clarinet solo and an absolutely splendid interlude by Tyree Glenn on the vibraphone.  Ray Nance’s violin is spotlighted in the more reflective, bluesy ‘Dance No. 3‘, and the decidedly more upbeat but less subtle ‘Dance No. 4‘  puts Nance back on trumpet, sharing the spotlight with saxman Johnny Hodges and drummer Louis Bellson.  ‘Dance No. 5‘  closes the suite with some relaxed solos by Glenn (on trombone), and Nance and Harold Baker on trumpets.

So, yeah, lots of dancing apparently.

Not exactly what I’m doing at this exact  moment, but I digress…

These were to be Ellington’s last sessions done on lacquer discs, with their limited running time: the Musicians Union strike followed, and when he came back in 1949, it was to a studio utilizing magnetic tape, which allowed Ellington and his band to stretch out to concert-length performances running up to 15 minutes at a time.

Awesome, enjoyable and relaxing listening through this afternoon’s series of planks, push-ups, squats, v-sits, etc.


About crazytigerrabbitman

I am a fat guy and always will be in the same way they say that “once an alcoholic; always an alcoholic”. Eventually I got upset about my poor health and ballooning body frame so I decided to change things for the better. Some people sign up for Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig, or whatever fad diet program it is that happens to be occupying the majority of air time on the boob tube. Other people prefer to run out and purchase the latest, fold away, piece of shit being hawked by some celebrity has-been. Me? I decided to take up triathlon. I had abused my body over the years with bacon cheeseburgers, pints of beer and double-dipped donuts, and the time had now come to abuse my body with physical exertion, perseverance and hard work instead; penitence in it's purest form. The time had come to kick my ass. I am Terry Nash and I am the “fat and the furious”.
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