Jazz memories of the 1950’s: The Street

April 16, 2016 at 12:37 am (BBC, culture, gigs, history, jazz, Jewish music, London, modernism, posted by JD, TV)

This is fabulous stuff: musician Dennis Rose’s amateur film of the jazz life (as lived by young professional musicians) in Soho of the early 1950’s, watched and commented upon thirty or so years later by participants Ronnie Scott, Benny Green, Laurie Morgan and (perhaps surprisingly) comedian Bill Maynard, amongst others. This went out in the 1980’s as part of a BBC2 jazz week, but hasn’t been seen since. Prepare yourselves for a lot of working class East End Jewish humour and political incorrectness:

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Blue Skies, by Ella…and Maxine

July 15, 2013 at 7:55 pm (jazz, Jewish music, Jim D, music, song)

The skies have, indeed, been blue, and the BBC has been playing snatches of Ella singing Irving Berlin’s great song, based upon a traditional Russian/Jewish lullaby

Great as Ella was, I personally rather prefer this version, by the neglected Maxine Sullivan:

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How Hitler destroyed German music

June 7, 2013 at 6:46 pm (anti-semitism, culture, fascism, genocide, Germany, Jewish music, modernism, music, thuggery, tragedy)

By Terry Teachout, in Commentary

Vienna Philharmonic

Above: the Vienna Philharmonic under Hans Weisbach, playing in Bucharest in 1941

The Vienna Philharmonic recently issued a report by a group of independent historians in which the orchestra officially acknowledged for the first time the closeness of its relationship to the Third Reich. Not only had half its players become members of the Nazi Party by 1942, but all 13 of its Jewish players had been fired four years earlier and five of them later died in the camps. A few weeks later, Der Spiegel published a 6,000-word essay called “Wagner’s Dark Shadow: Can We Separate the Man from His Works?” in which Dirk Kurbjuweit dealt no less honestly with the continuing inability of many German music lovers to grapple with the fact that Richard Wagner was a virulent anti-Semite whose writings directly influenced Adolf Hitler.

The extent to which Hitler and his cultural commissars sought to control and shape European musical life has been chronicled in detail. But most of these books have dealt primarily or exclusively with German-speaking performers and those performing artists from other countries, France in particular, who collaborated with the Nazis. Yet the unswerving determination of the Nazis to rid Europe of what they called entartete musik (degenerate music) may well have had an even more far-reaching effect on postwar European musical culture. After all, many well-known Jewish classical performers—Fritz Kreisler, Artur Schnabel and Bruno Walter among them—managed to emigrate to America and other countries where they continued their careers without significant interruption. Not so the Jewish composers whose music was banned by the Nazis. Some of them were killed in the Holocaust, and none of those who survived succeeded in fully reconstituting their professional lives after the war.

A turning point in our understanding of the effects of Nazism on European classical composition came in the 1990s when Decca/London began to release a series of albums called “Entartete Musik” containing some 30-odd works by such celebrated Jewish composers as Erich Wolfgang Korngold, Franz Schreker, Arnold Schoenberg, and Kurt Weill, all of whom had their music banned. After the series came to an end, Michael Haas, its producer, decided to devote himself to further study of the subject. Now he has written a book called Forbidden Music: The Jewish Composers Banned by the Nazis (Yale, 352 pp.). It is, amazingly, the first full-length history of what happened to the composers who ran afoul of the Nazi regime.

Though Haas is not a historian by training, Forbidden Music is still an outstandingly fine piece of work, one that not only tells the story of what happened to these composers but also places it in the historical context without which we cannot fully understand their sufferings. For the history of entartete musik is in large part a tale of Jewish assimilation and its discontents—and of Wagner, whose own mad obsession with Judaism had much to do with the fate of the composers who later felt Hitler’s wrath.

Prior to the social emancipation of Jewry that followed the establishment of Austria-Hungary’s dual monarchy in 1867 and the German Reich in 1871, it was all but impossible for German-speaking Jewish classical composers to achieve success in their native lands. The most important ones either emigrated (like Jacques Offenbach) or spent large parts of their career in other countries (like Felix Mendelssohn).

Given the extent to which Austro-German musical culture dominated classical music throughout the 19th century, it stands to reason that emancipation should have inspired many Jewish composers not merely to assimilate socially but to embrace a new cultural identity for which they had longed so intensely. It was, Haas writes, “the long-awaited entry [of the Jews] into the most élite, educated and cultivated ‘club’ on earth.” Arnold Schoenberg, the least “clubbable” of men, went so far as to proclaim that his invention of the 12-tone method of atonal composition would (in his oft-quoted words) “ensure the supremacy of German music for the next hundred years.”

Not surprisingly, many of these composers sought to expunge all recognizably Jewish elements from their music, hoping thereby to compose in the “true” Germanic tradition. Those who, like Karl Goldmark, failed to purge their styles with sufficient thoroughness were attacked for that very reason by such assimilated Jewish critics as Vienna’s Eduard Hanslick, who complained in a review of one of Goldmark’s operas of his “musical transliteration of Jewish Orientalism….It’s even used when general human feelings are called for rather than anything specifically Jewish.”

Despite their fondest hopes, these musicians were never able to escape the blight of anti-Semitism. Part of the problem was that their success led to growing envy on the part of less accomplished Gentile musicians. Just as important, though, was the emergence of a specifically racial brand of anti-Semitism of which Richard Wagner was the first major proponent. In Judaism in Music and Other Essays (1850) and other writings, Wagner proclaimed his “instinctive repugnance against the Jew’s prime essence” and decried “the be-Jewing of modern art,” going so far as to claim that Judaism threatened German culture itself, since Jews were “the purest of all races and it matters not with whom they mix: the Jewish race always dominates.”

Wagner’s race-based anti-Semitism became an accepted part of the cultural conversation in fin-de-siècle Europe, and it may have had an inhibiting effect on at least some of the Jewish composers of the period. The vast majority of German-speaking Jewish composers of the post-emancipation era were so determined to emphasize their “Germanness” that their music became derivative. Some favored Wagner’s hyper-romanticism, others the conservative traditionalism of Johannes Brahms, but whatever their choice, the result was a body of work that is—with good reason—almost totally forgotten today.

Not until Gustav Mahler, whose First Symphony was performed in 1889, did a Jewish composer of profound, even radical, originality appear on the scene. Yet Mahler’s relationship to his Jewish heritage was complex in the extreme. On the one hand, he unhesitatingly incorporated Jewish elements into his music—the slow movement of the First Symphony, for instance, contains a section that evokes the pungent sound of what would come to be called klezmer. At the same time, though, Mahler was, as Haas explains, equivocal about his background. Not only did he convert to Roman Catholicism to facilitate his appointment as director of the Vienna Hofoper (later the Vienna State Opera), but he “shuddered at the sight of kaftan-wearing, bearded Jews from Eastern Europe and refused to identify with them.”

Whatever his personal feelings about Judaism, Mahler was the key figure in the development of the next generation of post-emancipation Jewish composers. For those who were convinced that Wagner’s all-encompassing romanticism was a dead end—a “debilitating condition” (as the musicologist Alfred Einstein put it) that threatened to smother Austro-German musical culture—Mahler’s symphonically oriented style, at once more acerbic and more linear, offered budding modernists such as Schoenberg a much-needed alternative to the stodgy conservatism of the Jewish composers of the late 19th century.

Schoenberg soon found himself in the vanguard of musical modernism, though he and his followers, Jewish and otherwise, were outnumbered by other composers who still looked to Wagner or Brahms for guidance. But whatever their musical allegiance, these men all followed the path of assimilation, for they were true believers in Austro-German musical culture who wanted to preserve or (in Schoenberg’s case) improve it. It never occurred to them that their passport to that culture could be revoked.

How would Austro-German musical culture have evolved had Jewish composers continued to play a part in its development? The question, while provocative, is unanswerable, for starting in 1933 Adolf Hitler removed them from the scene. Read the rest of this entry »

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He Will Survive

May 2, 2012 at 12:03 am (comedy, Feminism, gay, Jewish music, Jim D, multiculturalism, song)

Whenever the fuckers get you down,  just remember this:

I Will Survive (so long as I get to the offy before closing time).

Up until now it’s been a feminist anthem also appreciated by gay men.

But now, also available to straight  (but embittered and frustrated)  men…

Spike Jones meets Jascha Heifetz meets Joe Venuti

H-t Norm

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Book launch and event: Stalin’s persecution of Jewish writers

February 25, 2012 at 9:42 am (anti-semitism, history, Human rights, intellectuals, Jewish music, Jim D, stalinism, terror)

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Dear friend – I thought you might be interested in this  event. Do feel free to circulate to anyone else you think might be  interested.
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Best wishes
Ross Bradshaw
Five Leaves Publications PO Box  8786 Nottingham NG1 9AW Office number: 0115 9895465 Out of office:  0115 9693597
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info@fiveleaves.co.ukwww.fiveleaves.co.ukwww.fiveleaves.co.uk/blog
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Click on image above to enlarge and read.

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Brubeck at 90

December 5, 2010 at 12:08 am (good people, jazz, Jewish music, Jim D)

Dave Brubeck will be 90 tomorrow,  December 6th.

He’s the king of cool, and one of the few people to put serious jazz into the hit parade. His sons now go out to play the music, but Dave at 90, still plays as and when his health permits. He is also a good guy: always a great champion of civil rights.

 His big hit was, of course, ‘Take Five’, with altoist Paul Desmond:

(Joe Morello drums, Eugene Wright bass).

Doug Ramsey at Rifftides,  wishes Dave happy birthday and notes the well-deserved  international attention.

A very good BBC tribute here.

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Artie Shaw, b: 23 May 1910; d: 30 Dec 2004

May 22, 2010 at 5:02 pm (jazz, Jewish music, Jim D)

Shaw  started out as a dance-band sax player and only learned the clarinet when it became necessary in order to get gigs. Nevertheless once he’d started on clarinet his perfectionism ensured that he became a master of the instrument. Benny Goodman (in the mid-to-late-thirties, which is the time we’re talking about) was established as the “King of Swing”, and the greatest clarinetist in jazz, but Shaw challenged him both as a clarinetist and as a bandleader. In my (humble) personal opinion, Goodman was always the more convincing jazz player, thanks to his Chicago upbringing at the feet of Teschmacher, Noone and Dodds.

Shaw’s colourful personal life (noteably his marriages to many glamourous women including Lana Turner) ensured him headlines, but are irrelevant to his place in jazz:

A high-profile success which he would have preferred to have buried in obscurity, aspirations to great art thwarted by commercial popularity, a theme tune called ‘Nightmare‘, eight marriages and a retirement which lasted three times as long as his bandleading career: Artie Shaw’s world was as unconventional as jazz could provide” – Richard Cook, Richard Cook’s Jazz Encyclopedia (Penguin, 2005).

Nevertheless, Shaw was a great player and led some fine bands – not least this one with a string section, plus Billy Butterfield (trumpet) and Nick Fatool (drums):

[Youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OMOi5vtxCbA]

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Dunkin’ bagel—splash! In the coffee. Matzo ball, matzo ball-o-roonie! Gefilte fish, gefilte fish-a-fruitie!

April 16, 2010 at 12:00 am (jazz, Jewish music, Jim D, multiculturalism)

Some light relief, courtesy of that Brockley man:

“Dunkin’ Bagel
Dunkin’ Bagel
Dunkin’ Bagel
SPLASH in the coffee
Dunkin’ Bagel
Dunkin’ Bagel
Dunkin’ Bagel
SPLASH in the coffee”
Bam Brown: “Matsoh Balls” Slim: “Matsoboutsiereenie”
Bam: “Gefilte fish” Slim: “Gefilte fish avoutie”
Bam: “Pickled Herrings” Slim: “Pickled Herrivoonie”
Bam: “Macarootie”  Slim: “Macaroonie”
piano solo (perhaps by Slim, but probably by [Dodo] Marmarosa)
guitar solo (very much in the vein of Charlie Christian)
Slim singing: “Dunkin’ Bagel” etc
and then as a coda the spoken words:
Bam: “How about a bowl of gefilte fish?”
Slim: “Cold? Hot?”

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Grosz plays Gerlach

March 6, 2010 at 11:50 pm (comedy, jazz, Jewish music, Jim D)

It’s Saturday night, so time for some fun. George’s boy Marty plays and sings two numbers written by Horace Gerlach: “If We Never Meet Again” and “Swing That Music.” Both were recorded by Louis Armstrong in the 1930’s. But does anyone know anything about Horace Gerlach? Even Wikipedia has nothing.

Anyway, enjoy:

[Youtube =http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e2e1i_yUU74]

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Gordon: you’re a bully but you’re no Buddy Rich

February 25, 2010 at 9:05 pm (Gordon Brown, insanity, jazz, Jewish music, Jim D, labour party, mental health, thuggery, wild man)

From The Basement Rug

I guess none of us will ever know the real Buddy Rich, but regardless of whether or not this represents the real Buddy, it sure is entertaining! The  transcription below was taken from an original recording, which is also on Youtube. Note that Mr Rich says the f-word 132 times. click here for full size image

Buddy Rich, The Person

Buddy Rich may have been the world’s greatest drummer, but in his dealings with his bandmembers off the stand, he might be described as a total prick with ears. Rich had an ego that fed a perverse sense of perfectionism and the need to control and dominate the players in “HIS” bands. Below is a little compilation of some of Buddy’s tirades that took place at different times and in different venues. It would appear that these “conversations” were transcribed from tapes that were made to document Buddy’s explosive and sometimes verbally abusive behaviour. If Buddy had known that there were tape recorders being snuck into the rooms, I’m confident that he might have hurt someone. Please note that this little document contains GRAPHIC EXPLITIVES.

(In a dressing room for the band)

BR-You think I’m runnin’ fifteen fuckin’…Close that door. (musician slams door) What kind of playing is being played here the past two nights? What is this? New phrasing, new bending, new sounds, no time! What the fuck do you think I’m running here? What kind of playing do you call this? What kinda shit is going on in the fuckin’…(turns to the bass player) What kinda, what kinda setting do you got on the bass tonight?

Bass Player-Setting?

BR-I feel that’s fairly much english.

Bass Player-It’s the same as I’ve always had out there.

BR-What’s with this, what’s with this bending?

Bass Player-I decided…

BR-(interrupting) Who decided?

Bass Player-I did.

BR-Your deciding is wrong!

Bass Player-I didn’t do it on purpose. I…

BR-(interrupting again) You’re deciding what kind of phrasing. You’re deciding who and what the leader is. You’re gonna watch who you wanna watch…(turns to the rest of the band). Everybody’s on two weeks notice tonight. I’m telling you, everybody gets two weeks notice tonight. I can’t handle this anymore. You’re all…(pauses thoughtfully) you’re not my kind of people, at all. I don’t understand this fuckin’ kind of music at all. I don’t understand what anybody is doing up there. I’m workin’ my fuckin’ ass off…(turns to a trumpet player) You put that fuckin’ mouthpiece into that bell again, I’m gonna take that fuckin’ horn and break it across my knee! Do you understand that?

Trumpet Player-I’ll stay away, you can’t hear a note though.

BR-I can hear everything! I don’t give a fuck what you hear. I hear it, and all I know is that you’re blowin’ my fuckin’ eardrum out! (turns to the saxophones) The saxophones, you can play the flute, there’s no sound in flutes. All I hear is noise. If you get any fuckin’ closer you’ll electrocute yourselves. What do you think I got a man with a sound system out there for? Sit down and play some fuckin’ music! You afraid you won’t be heard, is that it? I’ll turn the motherfucker off all of you, then see what kind of a band you got up there, without all the assistance. You can’t play shit! I’m accustomed to working with number one musicians. I’m not accustomed to working with half-assed fuckin’ kids who think they wrote the fuckin’ music business. You got a long way to go. You got a long way to go. Every one of you got a long fuckin’ way to go. Do you understand what I’m sayin’? You can’t play shit up there for me. What the fuck you’re doin’ up there doesn’t deserve to be called a “name” band. The fuckin’ kids out at the park there, they sounded fifty times better than any one of you! And that’s without a rhythm section. Maybe they enjoy what they are doin’ here. If you don’t enjoy it here, fuck you! And get off my band. Or we can find other ways to settle it. I’m just so fuckin’ tired of having to go through speeches with you guys. You’re all a fuckin’ bunch of children. There’s not a man among you, not one man who can go out there and play the job like a man. You’re all up there, fuckin’ high school, bullshit jive artists. You jived me for the last fuckin’ time. You got two sets to make up your fuckin’ mind or I get me an all L.A. band tomorrow night. Don’t think that’s not impossible. It’s very fuckin’ possible. I’ve had it with you guys. I ought to give each one of you motherfuckers a cut in salary before I get out of this fuckin’ room!

(Exit Buddy, slamming the door behind him)

(In the bus between sets)

BR-You guys are gonna be back in New York on the bread line so fast you won’t even know that you were on this fuckin’ band. How dare you play a fuckin’ set like that. Since when did the fuckin’ trumpet players become the leader of this fuckin’ band and decide how long they’re gonna hold a chord? What the fuck do you think you’re doin’? You think you’re playin’ with some kid up there? I expect one-hundred-and-ten percent fucking perfection every fuckin’ tune, you got that? If you can’t do it, get off my fuckin’ band to-NIGHT! You had a day off yesterday and you come back like this and you suck! What the fuck kind of music do you think you’re playing here anyhow? And who do you think you’re playing for? You think I’ll tolerate that shit? You’re worse than any fuckin’ high school band I ever heard. You come in wrong because you leave one fuckin’ beat out, you can’t find one!? I don’t know what kind of drummers you think you’re playin’ with, but you’ll play with me or you’ll get out! And I mean NOW! I don’t need this shit. I have a home in Palm Springs and I can go sit on my ass the rest of my life and not worry about a fuckin’ thing…and don’t have to meet your fuckin’ payroll, and pay you for playin’ like a fuckin’ high school dropout! How dare you do that! ASSHOLES!! You can’t play a simple fuckin’ tune; you can’t hold a chord; you can’t play time when you play solos. What kind of solos am I hearing tonight? (as he turns to the Trombonist) You want to rehearse and practice, get a fuckin’ band in Sydney and play the kind of shit you want. Over here you play TIME! You don’t like what I play get the fuck out. I’m tired of putting up with you, I’m tired of signing for ya, I’m tired of you period! And I’m tired of you all you guys that can’t go up and play a fuckin job for 45 fuckin minutes.

You got it too fuckin easy goddam it. I’ll make it so fuckin tough, you won’t be able to breath around here. How many fuckin bands you think you got to go to work in? If I decide to quite, you’d all suck. You got nothin. Try it. You think I’m foolin you can quite tonight. I’m up there knockin my fuckin brains and I gotta carry you and pay you at the same time? Fuck you!

When I go back in side, I better hear one hundred and ten percent perfection. Or I’ll leave ya here. I’ll take you as far as Detroit and you got it. Try me. Fuckers. Try me this next set and see if you get away with one piece of shit. You try it. I’ll fire ya on the fuckin band stand. You don’t only insult me but you insult yourselves. Don’t you have any more pride? Where’s your fuckin pride, where’s your professionalism? Assholes. That’s what…that’s what you play like. Where’s your own fuckin pride in yourself? Or don’t you have any cause your so fuckin dumb that you don’t have any pride? Get outta here, right now. I’ll have nothin to do with you. You get up on that band stand and you play your ass off.

(In the tour bus between sets)

BR-(screaming)

What the fuck do you think is goin’ on here? You had too many fuckin’ days off and you think this is a fuckin’ game!? You think I’m the only one that’s gonna work up there while you motherfuckers sit out there and clam all over this fuckin’ joint!? What do you think this is anyhow? What kind of playing do you think this is? What kinda miscues do you call this? What fuckin’ band do you think you’re playin’ on, motherfuckers? You wanna fuck with me on the bandstand?…Shut that fuckin’ door! I’m up there working my balls off, trying to do somebody a favor, and you motherfuckers are suckin’ all over this joint. What kind of trumpet section do you call this tonight? And saxophones…you gotta fuckin’ be kidding me! How dare you call yourselves professionals. Assholes! You’re playin’ like fucking children up there. You got your fuc…(distracted momentarily) where the fuck are you? Where is Peneke? (turns to the Trombonist) You’ve got your fuckin’ horn so far deep in the fuckin’ bell, we don’t need to have a band here tonight. You afraid you won’t be heard? Everybody can hear your fuckin’ clams out there. You don’t need a mike for that. You’re takin’ up too much fuckin’ time blowin’ what? Shit!! You stand out here all night tryin’ to blow your fuckin’ brains out; when it comes time to play, what do you play? Clams!! You got nowhere to fuckin’ go tonight the next set because if I hear one fuckin’ clam from anybody, you’ve had it! One clam and this whole fuckin’ band is through…tonight!! Try me! You got some fuckin’ nerve. Nights off, nothin’ to do, and you come in and play this kind of shit for me…Fuck all of you!!

You’re not doin’ me any fuckin’ favors, you’re breakin’ my heart up there. I gotta go up there and be embarrassed by you motherfuckers? I’ve played with the greatest musicians in the world. How dare you play like that for me! How dare you try to play like that for me. Assholes!! I get fifteen fuckin’ kids in rehearsal. The fuckin’ time in this band is incredible! We don’t play two fuckin’ bars in one fuckin’ tempo. Not one! You can’t keep fuckin’ time and play, there’s too many things to do, isn’t there? You can’t pat your fuckin’ foot and play. You’re all over the fuckin’ place. Miscue after miscue…You try one fuck up the next set, and when you get back to New York you’ll need another fuckin’ job. Count on it! Now get out of my fuckin’ bus! Right now!

(Band members shuffle out)

(In a tour bus traveling to the next gig. Buddy is pacing up and down the aisle of the bus, searching for a victim)

BR-Two fuckin’ weeks to make up your mind whether you want a beard or you want a job. I’ll not have this trouble with this band. This is not the goddamn House of David fuckin’ baseball team. This is the Buddy Rich Band; young people…with faces! No more fuckin’ beards. That’s out! If you decide to do it, you’re through. Right now! This is the last time I make this announcement. No more fucking beards. I don’t want to see it. If you guys don’t want to shave it off, I’ll treat you just like they treat you in the fuckin’ Marine Corps. This is the way I want my band to look. If you don’t like it, get out! You’ve got two weeks to make up your mind. This is no idle request. I’m telling you how my band is gonna look. You’re not telling me how you’re gonna look, I’m telling you. You’ve got two weeks to make up your fucking mind, if you have any mind. (pause) There’s too much freedom in this band. It’s taken away. You’re not going to do what you want to do, but what I want to do, as long as you’re takin’ my fuckin’ money. I’m presenting my kind of band. The image I present is what I want, not what you want (turns to Dave Peneke, one of the trombonists). You seem to be giving me more trouble than anyone else. Do you want to do something about it? It’s up to you. Do you want to do something about it?

Trombonist-(in an Australian accent)I would definitely not suggest you touch me.

BR-Then I definitely tell you one thing. You keep your fuckin’ mouth shut, get the fuckin’ beard off, or get off the band, right now. Now what do you think of that? Now that’s a definite suggestion. When you go to work tonight, if I catch the fuckin’ beard on you, i’ll throw you off the fuckin’ bandstand, O.K.?

Trombonist-I’m not taking it off.

BR-You’re what?

Trombonist-I’m not taking it off.

BR-You’re through.

Trombonist-O.K.

BR-Right now. You don’t tell me what to do, I tell you. You don’t like it, get off.

Trombonist-When and where?

BR-Get off! Get your fuckin’ clothes and get off! Right now! (to the bus driver) Pull the fuckin’ bus over!

Trombonist-Have you got two weeks pay for me?

BR-Have I got what?

Trombonist-Two weeks pay for me.

BR-I got nothin’ for you. I got a right hand to your fuckin’ brain if you want it. I’ll give you two weeks…two weeks for what? You learn the rules of my band. You don’t like it, that’s it. You get off. And try to take me to the fuckin’ union. I’d love it. You get no two weeks pay, you get two weeks time. Get off. (aside) He was waiting for this for a long fuckin’ time.

Trombonist-No I haven’t.

BR-Yes you have…

Trombonist-No I haven’t at all.

BR-(continuing)…ever since you opened your fuckin’ mouth because I don’t like the way you write…(pausing), and I still play your fuckin’ charts, for you. You understand that…not for me.

Trombonist-I think you play my charts becau…

BR-Because what?

Trombonist-…because, in particular, “Manhattan” is the best chart in the book.

BR-It is?

Trombonist-Yes.

BR-Then take “Manhattan” and get off. I’m a success without you and without your writing.

Trombonist-I know that.

BR-Alright. So don’t tell me what the best chart in my book is.

Trombonist-Well, it certainly goes over the best.

BR-Goes over the best?

Trombonist-Sure it does. People appreciate…

BR-(interrupting) Go back to Sydney and, uh, whatever you do over there, good luck. Not over here. (to others in the area) I want him off my fuckin’ bus right now.

Trombonist-It’s a pleasure to be off.

BR-Keep talkin’…keep talkin’. (Buddy’s voice begins to tremble with rage) You wanna, you wanna start some shit with me? Hmm? Keep talkin’…

Trombonist-Not particularly.

BR-Then keep your fuckin’ mouth shut! Right now! Or I’ll close it for you. Keep it shut…or try me!

Trombonist-I don’t need to try you, Buddy.

BR-Then shut up!

Trombonist-Well, I’d just appreciate, you know, being talked to like a human being.

BR-I try to talk to you like a human being and you talk back all the time…

Trombonist-I don’t think you do.

BR-…now keep your fuckin’ mouth shut or I’ll show you what it’s like! That’s all!

Trombonist-O.K., but you have no right to threaten me.

BR-I’m not threatening you, I’m telling you. You don’t want to do what I want in my band. I’m telling you!

Trombonist-O.K.

BR-Then shut up!

Trombonist-I will.

BR-Alright. (turns to the rest of the band) Let’s get that understood by everybody. I want him off. I don’t want him on the bandstand tonight. Two bones…(Buddy resumes cruising the aisle, looking for other targets of opportunity) I’m warning you for the last time. You wanna…right now…anytime you’re ready…Close your fuckin’ eyes. I’ve done had it with you. Sit down and keep your fuckin’ eyes and your mouth to yourself. Grow up. You’re not a tough guy so why don’t you just sit down. You better start learning to act like one. (Eyes the trombonist) I am one, you are not. So shut up!

Trombonist-Don’t threaten me.

BR-Fuckin’ asshole, fuckin’ with me. I’ve got one for you. I own this fuckin’ band.

(Stage darkens while Buddy contemplates his power)

Thanks to: Rugrat

For a good comment and discussion on Brown’s dark side, visit Dave’s place.

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