Looking back at my first introduction to my pal, David Amram, I remember being something less than overwhelmed with the stories that swirled around him. He was pals with Kerouac and Ginsberg and all those guys that we now refer to as "the beats." Yeah, well what does that make him, right?
Of course as the stories mount it begins to become obvious that nobody's in the right place at the right time all of the time. Ambassador of Jazz with Louis. Best friend of Leonard Bernstein. Then the big one. David was with Lord Buckley in Manhattan on the day that he died. Okay, now I'm impressed.
Sometimes the stories cloud the value of David's music. His philosophy of music is original and spiritual. He's a genius and, believe me, I don't throw that term around.
Now, time has gone by and I have stories. It comes from living a long time. Elvis offered to teach me karate. I held up Jimi's Marshall cabinets. Speedo took me to a party that the Coasters were throwing. Yeah, well, what does that make me, right?
Oh. I stood and watched Moondog on the corner in the city and Tiny Tim told me that he would see me in heaven.
I have a philosophy of music, too. I truly believe that it is the ultimate expression of all of the love and all of the intimacy that cannot be expressed with words. I'm positive that love's DNA is wrapped around the musical scale. I love you all.
No comments:
Post a Comment