I proudly admit that I am as excited as a kitten entering the milking barn of a Wisconsin dairy farm to not only smell the dairy air but to lap up the tsunamic flow of spilt milk that puddles on the ground. This Friday, January 12 from 7-9 pm, Kevin Vannoy and the Basin Street Boyz will be playing their brand of funky jazz at The Loft. On a personal note, Kevin is one of my most favorite people on the planet. He’s such an awesome entertainer and musician with the elegance and southern charm of a brunch prepared by Bobby Flay that includes mimosas and doobies the size of dirigibles, and when Kevin blows the harp, I smile so aggressively that it makes children nervous. He makes my entire quintessence beam with the luminous intensity of a supernova on steroids. Unfortunately, I will be going under the knife this Friday early in the morning in Atlanta, and I don’t think that I’ll be able to make the gig, which would sadden me inconsolably save for the fact that I’ll probably be on hallucinogenic pain killers and won’t give a rat’s ass about anything other than a deep concern that the brightly hued sky might be melting into a Picasso-like abstract of an explosion in a crayon factory. Obviously, I will miss Kevin, yet he will remain a permanent resident within the most sacrosanct addresses of my special memories alongside the magical moment when I witnessed from the top of Mount Yonah (between Helen and Cleveland, Georgia) the sun’s slipping into the crack between the distant horizon and the edge of the Universe. I strongly encourage you to check out this week’s jazz concert. You will leave the venue with a strong desire to do something nice for someone you do not know without expectation of remuneration. 

Impressions featuring Nick Johnson returned to The Loft last Friday, and I would like to encourage you, dear reader, to check out Nick Johnson if you ever get a chance; this cat is special. He not only plays an inspiring sax, he’s a damn fine dude as well. He has quickly asserted himself into the local jazz music scene as easily as ice cream melts in the insufferable August sun. Playing alongside Nick were two of the brightest upcoming musicians currently developing their already formidable music chops with Columbus State University’s Schwob Jazz Orchestra under the direction of Dr. Kevin Whalen: Yair Ophir (bass) and Tommy Embrich (drums) who kept the rhythms tight and interesting, Yair employing techniques that produce clear and dulcet tone and timbre on the upright bass that belies his youth. Both young men represent the future of jazz and they are well worthy the challenge to return jazz music to the forefront of the music industry. Completing the ensemble, the dignified and composed Don Tipton tickled the ebony and ivory in his inimitable style that seems to evoke happiness for his fans’ listening pleasure. Although Yair hails from Israel and Tommy comes from Illinois, the quartet are local for a while, so, hopefully, we can enjoy these incredible musicians collectively or in different ensembles, which suits my interests just fine. Can’t wait to hear these cats again.

The next time you go see a live musical group, check out the stage. Does it have a wheelchair ramp leading from the audience to the stage or are their steps? Is there a wheelchair ramp backstage? Is there handicapped parking where the performers load and unload? Chances are that the venue doesn’t provide these accommodations. It’s like this: my biggest challenge as a quadriplegic jazz vocalist is finding accessible stages on which to perform. I was once raised up to a five-foot high stage using a forklift and a wooden palette because the stage was not wheelchair accessible. Fortunately, I didn’t die. Point is that there are few wheelchair accessible stages; otherwise, I’d sing much more often.

It’s easy to see why this isn’t a mainstream problem: there are few “physically challenged” performers, but that’s merely an excuse encouraged by indifference. We handicapped performers exist and are eager to share our dreams with fans who dig what we do. But why are we unconsciously ignored? That’s easy: Being unable to perform even the most rudimentary acts of daily living is a major downer; the wheelchair, quite frankly, is a symbol of lost hope. Let’s face it; it’s a marketing problem, and this is where you come in to save the day.

Physical handicaps are wrapped in lugubrious imagery, but not every moment of life in a wheelchair is steeped in mournful decay. Believe it or not, I laugh every day… some days more than others, but if life were perfect, I, for one, would take a bite of forbidden fruit to find some excitement from the decay of entropy (the hypothetical tendency for all matter and energy in the universe to evolve toward a state of inert uniformity). What I’m trying so desperately to connote here is the fact that having a physical challenge can, at times, be fun and inspirational. What we need is positive imagery, and here’s where I ask for a favor from you, dear reader, and it has to do with social media, more specifically, using the ubiquitous #hashtag: will you help by coming up with a #hashtag meme that has positive connotations for the handicapped and send it to me. This could be fun. Maybe I can come up with prizes for creative contributions. Regardless, this could be the beginning of a social movement that witnesses an outcry of creative energy by talented people who have difficulty overcoming the obstacles that are hidden from people who can hop out of bed running full tilt. By the way, I’ve come up with a possible #hashtag meme that might work: #FantastAbility. What do you think?

The gauntlet has been dropped. Do you accept the challenge? Please reply to this email with as many suggestions as you want, and challenge your friends as well. Let’s see if we can extend this conversation internationally. (Actually, when you send in your suggestions, include the name of your hometown city. We’ll see how far this request goes.) Let’s make the wheelchair a symbol of fun… or grace… or intelligence… or, dare I say it? Let’s make the wheelchair Sexy!

Over two hundred years ago, a group of European immigrants decided to try something different: to develop a form of government that takes into account the needs of everybody. This was when monarchies were the status quo, an authoritarian form of government that catered to the exclusive desires, and whims, of one person… one man. Of course, for that man to acquire and maintain his exclusive narcissistic agenda, he had to assemble a small faction of concordant people… men… who had similar egocentric philosophies, so a hierarchy was developed that vouchsafed privileges exploited by cabals of white men who wielded power over the insidiously growing group of citizens so that only an insignificant number of men controlled the destinies of the remaining much larger and diverse group… the feudal oligarchy was created. Conservatism, the inclination to maintain the existing or traditional order, socially metastasized under this patriarchal regulation; why would a despot even consider anybody else’s needs when his are so easily importuned?

Of course, persuading a large group of people to change is nearly impossible. To broach such a mind-blowing concept as majority rule with minority rights must’ve been daunting. Compromise was necessary. That’s why slavery was written into the Constitution (such as the counting of a slave as only a fraction of one human being), but along with these types of concessions was accorded the ability to make changes, i.e. amendments, to the Constitution itself. Its ideology is not carved in stone; the document is a living organism that can adapt as humanity’s spiritual essence develops. 

Change was the crux of influence stoked by our nation’s founding fathers. They realized the immanent dangers of an irrevocable predetermined temperament like that of a theocracy or any other governing system that attempts to assuage the power of the common man by claiming a divinely sanctioned patronization of the status quo while systematically undermining dissenting points of view. This desire for representational government was encumbered by the fact that the common people who were exploited by the minority with power were also intensely indoctrinated to not only accept their meager lot in life but to expect no better. Unfortunately, this destruction of one’s basic convictions, and its replacement with an alternative sets of fixed beliefs, is still rampant in contemporary society; it’s the mindset of the people who have been coerced into believing that Donald Trump the Kleptocratic Moron© is a viable demagogue instead of the egocentric ass-hole he has been throughout his life, the same people who were similarly coerced by the Southern Strategy to errantly believe that Ronald Reagan was somehow recognized as a champion for the proletariat instead of the leader suffering from Alzheimer’s disease and incapable of effective cognition.

Through its brief history, Democracy has experienced its share of apexes and nadirs; in fact, it is currently undergoing its lowest point in history with the authoritarian purport of Donald Trump the Kleptocratic Moron© and his lackeys, but for every step backwards, Democracy has rebounded with a couple leaps forward. It will survive the latest assault on its existence and become even stronger… more diverse… more eclectic. Democracy is like jazz music: it is more powerful when more instruments join the conversation; it is more effective when regulated by prudence; it is much more fun when spontaneity quickens, especially when the soloist has studied her craft for decades; it is more stimulating with syncopated rhythms instead of an exclusive adherence to a monotonous down beat; it is more productive when it is more challenging; and it is more rewarding when one works diligently to improve one’s understanding and participation in its process. Hopefully, with the strengthening of Democracy comes a congruent rise in the popularity of jazz.

Peace Through Music

The Eighth and Rail in historical downtown Opelika, Alabama is the venue for a wildly groovy weekly jazz jam as hosted by the Jane Drake Jazz Band. It's a cozy celebration of life that has become a buzzing collection of jazz-loving fanatics gathered together in a coterie of peaceful, fun-loving positive energy. I am downright proud as a peacock with enhanced LED-flashing feathers to participate in the jam on a regular basis, and I really love it! Proprietor Mike Patterson makes the wonderful sushi and Miss Tiffany keeps the affable atmosphere at a lovely level of emotive satisfaction. Plus... they serve an awesome cheesecake that'll make you wanna slap yourself so hard as to tell horrific knock-knock jokes to mimes. No lie. We have really talented musicians come in from the bi-state area: Auburn, Montgomery, Tuskegee, Columbus, LaGrange, Fort Valley, et al. The jam begins at 7 pm and ends at 10 pm CT. Hopefully, I'll see you there.

Eighth and Rail Website

Venkman's is a nightclub in Atlanta, a venue that Joe Gransden uses for his weekly jazz jam. This is where the Who's Who of the Atlanta Jazz Scene come together to dazzle us mortals. It's free and starts at 8 pm ET. Fo' mo' info, click link below. I've participated in this jam a couple of times, and I love it as well. Joe Gransden always welcomes me with a smile that will melt antarctic glaciers in the middle of winter, which, oddly enough, is during June through August... when it's so hot and humid in middle Georgia that my toenails sweat. Nevertheless, Joe's band often includes keyboardist Kenny Banks (sometimes Kevin Bales), drummer Chris Burroughs and bassist Craig Shaw, and these cats kick it. When I find the transportation, I'm going.

Venkman's Website