Behold, The Jazz Flute Solo

Publishing words in the form of a blog is inherently narcissistic ( but enough about me … what do you think of me? ).  I’m not one to toot my own horn, but rather toot horns of other people that I find fascinating or thought provoking or too darn cute.  Today, it’s about me.  There’s no shame in my dark secret.  We all have one.  Thanks to Brent and Huey “Scooby Snacks” Morgan, I was hit smack in the face with a talent I had long forgotten.  I was a very good flute player or flautist, if you will.  First chair, all the juicy flute parts as well as the piccolo player.  Gina was pretty good, but damnit, I was better ( bitch ).  Yeah, I came a long way from my humble beginnings as the triangle soloist in Silver Bells ( you sing: silver bells – me: DING – you: silver BELLS – me: DING – It’s Christmas TIME in the city … and it goes on like that ). And yes, I did throw my mouthpiece across the room in a fit of rage leaving a small dent in my flute that I still have to this day. I am an artist, what else can I say. It runs in the family.

Brent listens to various BBC radio shows while he’s doing tractor time.  Huey is one of our favorites.  Huey has a good sense of cool ( or Kool ) that is fantastic to listen to while allowing your mind to runaway in thoughts of “who sampled this?” and “did he just play John Cougar Mellencamp?”  There I was, innocently taking a sit-down while Zélie napped when Huey played “Dazz” by Brick.  Fine groove.  Oh! A sax solo.  Nice.  Falsetto, good one.  As the song progresses your mind wonders with thoughts like “Dazz” … what the heck is that?  “Dazz Dance … Disco Jazz”  OH!  Disco and Ja – wait, what’s that?  A flute?   And there you are, after two minutes and change into the “Dazz” groove you are completely assaulted by a very long jazz flute solo.  It’s fabulous.

I put down my flute at age twelve and picked up some tap shoes and jazz shoes and ballet shoes and modern barefeet.  I didn’t see a future in flute playing.  I didn’t want to continue on in an orchestra or the marching band circuit.  I wanted to be in a REAL band.  But who does flute in a band?  Brick, that’s who.  Brent said that Huey was on flute solo junket the other day.   Flute solos just kept coming.  I remember practicing those jazz flute techniques when I wasn’t playing with the orchestra.  When no one was listening.  Me in my bedroom, tooting my own horn.  With nowhere to go as a woodwind player, I took to the performing arts like a tiger.  All my hours consumed with dance or drama or directing or singing or producing.  The flute, so cute, was shelved never intended to be revisited.

Today, I bring you “Dazz” by Brick via Brent via Huey.

YouTube Wars

It’s a simple game.  A song with a video that does any of the following:


–        sticks in your head like a little robot bug inserted into your ear demanding that you whistle or hum the chorus throughout the day or you will be punished

–        Is so bad that it has you appreciating its reason for existence ( see see my baby jive a complete clash of Abba pop meets Gwar)

–        Is a damn good song that you would prefer never disclosing your excitement with friends


There are more rules, but they evolve.  You just need to feel it.



Not shockingly, most winning YouTube Wars material comes from the “pre-auto-tune” days.  Once you hit the “back to life” beat, all music goes downhill until you hit Nirvana where the artists can actually play an instrument.  We are a bit stuck at the moment while we wait for the next Nirvana or Beatles or Winehouse.  In the meantime, I’ll stick to the early eighties and below to give you this gem that still ceases to amaze and astonish my being.  The leg warmers. ( worn by dudes! ).  The whistling.  The clap double clapping.  The Jazzercize. For you … Hot Chocolate, Girl Crazy :


F’in Music

In my (almost) two years here in France, I’ve noticed a lot of music that is played at the various stores. What stands out to me is the frequent play of any song sung in English that have “fuck you” in the chorus. Lily Allen’s Fuck You and Cee Lo Green’s Fuck You song have been seriously overplayed. I can only imagine the radio DJs getting a huge giggle out of picking these songs. Also, i see a great opportunity to start a little side career when I’m not farming by creating pop songs with English swear words for the French pop market.