Royalty, Music and Magic

The King is dead but he's not forgotten...my, my, hey, hey, rock and roll is here to stay; it's better to burn out than to fade away. Thirty years...

Max Roach died at the age of 83 yesterday. Drummer extraordinaire, he made me "get" jazz drumming. In the late '90s, as I began my love affair with jazz, I was still novice enough to not appreciate the nuances and rhythms of jazz drumming, especially pre-1960s funk and fusion. Jazz drumming's subtleties and focus on space instead of John Bonham-style hell poundings were lost on this neophyte. It took me purchasing the 1956 masterpiece Saxophone Colossus and 1955 Clifford Brown and Max Roach to see the light. Now, whenever I have the privilege of seeing Jeff "Tain" Watts or others, I can't help but wonder just how cool it would have been to be jammed in one of those smoke-filled Manhattan basements at three in the morning watching those small group masters...Max will be missed...

Just before the King finally handed over his mortal crown, his home was visited by, or more realistically transpassed upon, by a young rock and roller seeking the chance to touch the hem of the King's garment. That young buck is now truly the King of the American rock landscape and on October 2, we will be graced with his new album, "Magic". Look out, world, I'll be writing a lot about Bruce's new album, upcoming tour and how I'll be willing to miss my father as mayor in his first Homecoming Parade to be at the Oakland Coliseum for The Boss.