It seems every year one crew makes it's move to takeover the industry. From the Juice Crew to the BDP Connection. EPMD had a killer roster and ruled for a little while. The QB crew to Death Row to the Hieroglyphics to Wu-Tang (The Shaolin Posse aka Tha Killa Beez) to Bad Boy to Rocafella to G-Unit to the newest crew to make a major move - Dipset.
It begins with Killa Cam aka Camron. Cam had basically laid back and watched the industry and it's moves. The Dipset movement began with the Taliban and evolved while Cam was making like a capo over at Rocafella. The Dipset Movement has the streets on fire. They have a plan. G-Unit wanna shine? Go 'head, do you. Jay and Nas wanna battle? We'll get in it because we down with Rocafella but when that didn't pan out, it's like peace between Uptown and the QB was restored.
How fast the game can change. Let's keep it real, 50 and da Unit might have the newest blueprint, but really, are they holdin' down the streets like they were a year ago? Seems to me it all sounds the same. Not sayin' it ain't hot, but it all sounds the same. With the exception of a hungry Spider-Loc and a rejuvinated Lloyd Banks (check "Born Alone, Die Alone" on the Get Rich Or Die Tryin' soundtrack and tell me Banks ain't spittin fire. I don't know who, but somebody done lit a fire under Banks' ass. This is the Banks I remember from mixtapes when he shelled the industry with underground napalm.) the Unit is sounding pretty standard. And I just don't see them holdin' down the streets like they were. That belongs to the new crew with a Trump-Like Plan A - Dipset.
Dipset don't fall back. They bring heat. Let's see - need a teen sex symbol - Juelz Santana. He's just what the doctor ordered. Can bring heat to a mike, knows his position, and right now is beloved by both the 106 & Park and TRL crews. I have to admit, first time I heard Juelz, I wasn't impressed. But, damn it since "Mic Check" he hasn't been as consistent as a LeBron jumper.
Then there is the Capo of Capos. The O.G. - Jim Jones. Jim Jones gets love from every real nigga alive today. Real recognize real. A straight up workaholic, Jim Jones is the lynchpin for the Dipset. Cam might lead, but Jones is the street heat and buisness man. His "Diary" CD is a certified underground hall of famer. Then the whole crew buzzed it up with "More Than Music Volume One." Be on the lookout for rap descendent of Kool G Rap, Hell Rell.
And they're subtly gearing for war. I'm tellin you - it's a Dipset Takeover for '06. You have been warned.
Friday, December 16, 2005
Sunday, December 11, 2005
Mudbone's gone....
December 1st, 1940. Peoria, Illinois.
God created the funniest man to grace the planet Earth.
Richard Franklin Lennox Thomas Pryor.
If you never got the chance to see Richard live, you missed out on one of the most life-altering experinces to grace the world today. You see, Richard was much more than a comedian.
He was a visionary.
He was a storyteller. And oh, the stories he would tell. He could take you to wherever he was at, and make you see it with just words. You would believe you were standing right next to him witnessing whatever event he was speaking on. Richard could do that. And then, he could take the saddest, most tragic story and transform it into something wonderful.
He would make you laugh about it.
Yes, he would.
In the face of tragedy, of utter despair, Richard Pryor could make you laugh. Not giggle. Laugh. Laugh so hard, you had stomach cramps. Laugh so long, you couldn't catch your breath. Some have stated they didn't know what was worst: taking a gut shot from Muhammed Ali or Richard Pryor on a roll. It has been agreed upon that both would knock you down to one knee, at least.
Richard could make you cry, be angry and laugh at the same time. Physically, this should be impossible, but for Richard - it was easy. Too easy. It led him on a self-destructive path with us in the passenger seat. And when we thought all was finally at peace with the funniest man alive, God dealt a cruel hand.
Richard Pryor had MS.
And, still he was funny. And poignant. And relevant. And real.
He could act. I mean, "straight" roles. Like, "Lady Sings The Blues". Don't ever take his humor for lack of sense. Richard was the epitome of talent and the epicenter of common sense. And now the world is a much sadder place. It's like someone took a part of every human being's funny bone and shortened it just a little.
I would say more but what else needs to be said?
Our brother has left us. Our brother is gone.
Richard Pryor died December 10th, 2005, just days after his 65th birthday. I can hear him now - "Okay, God - what? Didn't want me to get that SS check after all, huh?"
Mudbone is gone.
He died with a smile on his face.
God created the funniest man to grace the planet Earth.
Richard Franklin Lennox Thomas Pryor.
If you never got the chance to see Richard live, you missed out on one of the most life-altering experinces to grace the world today. You see, Richard was much more than a comedian.
He was a visionary.
He was a storyteller. And oh, the stories he would tell. He could take you to wherever he was at, and make you see it with just words. You would believe you were standing right next to him witnessing whatever event he was speaking on. Richard could do that. And then, he could take the saddest, most tragic story and transform it into something wonderful.
He would make you laugh about it.
Yes, he would.
In the face of tragedy, of utter despair, Richard Pryor could make you laugh. Not giggle. Laugh. Laugh so hard, you had stomach cramps. Laugh so long, you couldn't catch your breath. Some have stated they didn't know what was worst: taking a gut shot from Muhammed Ali or Richard Pryor on a roll. It has been agreed upon that both would knock you down to one knee, at least.
Richard could make you cry, be angry and laugh at the same time. Physically, this should be impossible, but for Richard - it was easy. Too easy. It led him on a self-destructive path with us in the passenger seat. And when we thought all was finally at peace with the funniest man alive, God dealt a cruel hand.
Richard Pryor had MS.
And, still he was funny. And poignant. And relevant. And real.
He could act. I mean, "straight" roles. Like, "Lady Sings The Blues". Don't ever take his humor for lack of sense. Richard was the epitome of talent and the epicenter of common sense. And now the world is a much sadder place. It's like someone took a part of every human being's funny bone and shortened it just a little.
I would say more but what else needs to be said?
Our brother has left us. Our brother is gone.
Richard Pryor died December 10th, 2005, just days after his 65th birthday. I can hear him now - "Okay, God - what? Didn't want me to get that SS check after all, huh?"
Mudbone is gone.
He died with a smile on his face.
Saturday, December 03, 2005
After midnight in NYC...
I have been on a tear recently checking out live jazz cds. Bear with me while I wax on about the need for the live jazz cd.
Jazz is, and always has been, about expression and improvisation. There is no greater challenge and validation of one's skills than in a live performance. That's just real. And the best of those are the ones that create a mood, and run with it.
I posted the cover to Charlie Haden and Kenny Barron's "Night and the City" because of two reasons. One, it was recorded in NYC at one of the premier jazz clubs, Iridium, and it perfectly evokes a mood. It's in the title itself: "Night And The City".
Ever been to NYC at night? It's a strange and wonderous place. There is one thing though that New York is known for but seldom acknowledged. It is one of the most romantic cities on the planet. You can walk down the street and feel the romantic vibe. I mean, it has some of the greatest restaurants, entertainment and eye candy you will ever witness and experience. That night, at Iridium, Charlie Haden and Kenny Barron bought that romantic vibe to the forefront. What's even better is that it is perfectly captured on this disc.
Mulgrew Miller, Kenny Barron, Coleman Hawkins, Miles Davis, and many more have made classic live jazz albums for us to be enraptured to. You can picture yourself in the club or hall that night. You can hear the nuances of the tones, the mistakes and that one run that you know you will never hear again. For sheer perfection of enveloping a mood, there might be no greater CD than "Night And The City".
It's a late night CD. To be listened to with the lights low and no talking or any noise of any kind. It can be a romantic time or a time spent in reflection or even just listening to some beautiful music. This is not dinner music, even though some might make that mistake because of it's hushed tones and understatement. It's not the type of CD that will overpower a conversation but a conversation does not compliment it, either.
The music wraps itself around you like a soft, warm blanket and slowly takes you to a calming place. Where there are no need for words. It's the precursor of things to come. It sets the tone for the evening or winds it down. It is not meant for action, but reflection and appreciation.
Miles' "Live At The Plugged Nickel" set is totally different. It makes you listen to the master while he churns, burns and lets you partake of his mastery of his craft. His ballads are delicate while he bebops with fever. It is a breathtaking live accomplishment. "Night And The City" is a decidedly different beast. It's mastery lies in it's understatement and quiet moments. Jazz uses quiet as a note. Here it is used as an instrument.
It is one of the most beautiful CDs ever made. You should check it out. And while you're at it, check out some others too. Live jazz is wonderous thing. Enjoy it.
Friday, December 02, 2005
So what's the deal, Slade?
I'm going to adding more links soon. If you want to find some people who I have much respect for, then go over to Slade Wilson's War Journal for a more updated link page. Now, whassup? Just this.
Slade's Place - my lounge - will be primarily a Critic oriented blog. The entertainment industry will either be praised or set ablaze here. You might see some fiction, but for the most part - it's all about my thoughts about a show, a CD, a comic book, etc.
You want the hot babes? Head over to the HQ. You want my personal views (and they are strange, trust me) - head over to the War Journal. Here, for the most part, will be me getting serious about what entertains me and sometimes - what let's me down.
Now - a plug.
My brother - The Deacon aka Steve Fritz has his Animated Shorts over at Hero's Realm back up and he goes right for the now with an interview with "The Boondocks" creator, Aaron McGruder.
That's it for right now. Go visit my homeboy and tell him what you think. And then come back when I light this bad boy up.
Smoke em if you got em
Slade's Place - my lounge - will be primarily a Critic oriented blog. The entertainment industry will either be praised or set ablaze here. You might see some fiction, but for the most part - it's all about my thoughts about a show, a CD, a comic book, etc.
You want the hot babes? Head over to the HQ. You want my personal views (and they are strange, trust me) - head over to the War Journal. Here, for the most part, will be me getting serious about what entertains me and sometimes - what let's me down.
Now - a plug.
My brother - The Deacon aka Steve Fritz has his Animated Shorts over at Hero's Realm back up and he goes right for the now with an interview with "The Boondocks" creator, Aaron McGruder.
That's it for right now. Go visit my homeboy and tell him what you think. And then come back when I light this bad boy up.
Smoke em if you got em
Monday, November 28, 2005
The iTunes Takeover
Within the last five years, we have witnessed the establishment of purchasing or pirating our entertainment off the internet. The business that this has had the most liberal and lasting effect is the Music Business. The sales of CD's are down, even though internet music sales are up. Connect, napster, even to a certain extent, Rhapsody are making headway in music sales. Yahoo has recently re-structured their music section to allow payable downloads. But, no one has made the in-roads to music superstore as much as iTunes has.
The arguement can be made that the iPod has made it possible for iTunes to have this stranglehold on the industry. The iPod is the monster that rules MP3 players, all others are also-rans. The iPod has become a fashion accessory, pop culture icon, and anything else you want to label to it. But it's not the iPod that has made iTunes a major player, even though it has helped tremendously. While Rhapsody, Connect, napster and all the others have a massive library, nothing comes close to iTunes. And there lies the secret. No, it's not the price - it's the library and the subtleties that accompany it.
iTunes has street mixes. iTunes allows you to burn and convert their tracks to MP3. iTunes fixes your encoding. iTunes has a collection of live albums, exclusives, and mixes from both celebrities and professionals. It has audiobooks, and lets other programs incorporate them in the download process. The stronghold is happening at a rapid rate. And what is remarkable about it is that it is barely noticed.
The music industry, as it stands, has made an issue of the amount of money iTunes charges per download. This is a major mistake but one that the music industry has to make. The prevailing attitude is if you can take down the big dog, everyone else will follow suit. Too bad it's not going to happen.
Here's the deal in a nutshell. Artists are not losing money if they look out the box at their contracts. Their money deals with "sales" or "product" sold. Where the music industry is afraid that distribution, as it has stood for the last 50 or more years, has become obsolete. Who needs a physical product and the hassle that comes along with it (going to a store, sales tax, jewel cases, etc) when you can shop from home, when you want, and have your music almost instantaneously? Especially in this day and age, instant gratification is and will always be the more preferred route.
The winds of change has occurred. The movie industry and video game industries are next. And believe me, they know it. Then comes the television industry.
Welcome to the future.
The arguement can be made that the iPod has made it possible for iTunes to have this stranglehold on the industry. The iPod is the monster that rules MP3 players, all others are also-rans. The iPod has become a fashion accessory, pop culture icon, and anything else you want to label to it. But it's not the iPod that has made iTunes a major player, even though it has helped tremendously. While Rhapsody, Connect, napster and all the others have a massive library, nothing comes close to iTunes. And there lies the secret. No, it's not the price - it's the library and the subtleties that accompany it.
iTunes has street mixes. iTunes allows you to burn and convert their tracks to MP3. iTunes fixes your encoding. iTunes has a collection of live albums, exclusives, and mixes from both celebrities and professionals. It has audiobooks, and lets other programs incorporate them in the download process. The stronghold is happening at a rapid rate. And what is remarkable about it is that it is barely noticed.
The music industry, as it stands, has made an issue of the amount of money iTunes charges per download. This is a major mistake but one that the music industry has to make. The prevailing attitude is if you can take down the big dog, everyone else will follow suit. Too bad it's not going to happen.
Here's the deal in a nutshell. Artists are not losing money if they look out the box at their contracts. Their money deals with "sales" or "product" sold. Where the music industry is afraid that distribution, as it has stood for the last 50 or more years, has become obsolete. Who needs a physical product and the hassle that comes along with it (going to a store, sales tax, jewel cases, etc) when you can shop from home, when you want, and have your music almost instantaneously? Especially in this day and age, instant gratification is and will always be the more preferred route.
The winds of change has occurred. The movie industry and video game industries are next. And believe me, they know it. Then comes the television industry.
Welcome to the future.
Saturday, November 19, 2005
adult swim - Friday Night Fix
adult swim has this wonderful thing called the "Friday Night Fix" whereas you can watch the newest episode of their shows prior to them airing them at their regular time. It's only accessible on their website. So, I watched the newest "The Boondocks" episode - "Guess Hoes Coming To Dinner". Brief synopsis - Granddad meets a young lady by the name of Cristal ("you know, like the champagne?") and proceeds to fall for her not realizing that she's a, well, she's a.... umm how can I put this delicately? Fuck it - she's a hoe.
Everyone else can tell but Granddad. Even Cristal is perplexed but hey, for her this is her sugar daddy so, she ain't complaining. Thing is - Huey and Riley are. Later we meet "A Pimp Named Slickback".
You need to watch this. If you can't check out FNF, then check out "The Boondocks" on adult swim - Sunday nights - 11PM est. This is funniest damn thing I've ever seen. No, really - I can't begin to tell you that if this doesn't get a fuckin' nomination for Comedy Series of the Year - I'm whippin somebody's natural ass.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
My Wednesday Nights
For whatever reason, I'm hooked on "Lost" and "Invasion". As of 9PM, I'm camped in front of the tv and God help anyone who disturbs me. Couple of weeks ago, my wife came in the room and started talking and she stated the look I gave her scared the hell out of her. She also said it's been over six years since she's seen that look. Hey, I married a good woman - it takes alot to make me angry and very rarely does she cross that line.
Back to my obsession. I have no idea why I'm hooked the way I am to both these shows. Especially Invasion. There's not much anyone can do for me in the Sci-Fi department anymore. I mean after Star Trek, Star Wars, Battlestar Galactica (new series), and the Matrix - plus Outer Limits, the Prisoner and the Twilight Zone - I'm rarely surprised. Invasion suprises me - not with the "big reveals" but the little things. The sudden character changes, the bits of history that pop up suddenly, suspicion and then explainations and then suspicions again.
"Lost" wants that and they achieve it but at a different level. You now expect it from Lost and look for it. Red herrings abound in Lost. They're there on purpose. Just to make the viewer crazy. But Invasion is a different beast even though both shows have been compared. Acutally they are a great tag team. They both make you think and dispel the old adage - believe what you see. With Lost and Invasion, you can't believe what you see, because everything is a lie.
I was once told by a master con-artist the art of the great con. He said, "Boy, it isn't the lie, per-se. You see, all great lies - the ones you believe have one thing in common. The truth. The truth has to be in there somewhere or at least the semblance of the truth. Because it is the last vestage of the lie. Once the lie is exposed, and the lie is always exposed, you still win because they have now abandoned the truth. Without that bit of truth, the secret will never be revealed."
Lost and Invasion - Wednesday nights on ABC.
The Boondocks
This is the orignal "Boondocks" crew. Yep, the gang's all there: Huey, Riley, Jazmine, Caesar, Hiro and is that Cindy in the corner? Nope - I forgot the character's name but yep, he's a part of the original crew too.
"The Boondocks" is a comic strip and now animated series created by Aaron McGruder. Mr. McGruder started the series while in college and it morphed into a series in The Source Magazine, and then morphed again as a newspaper comic strip. Some characters were added and some have left, the main characters of Huey Freeman, Riley Freeman and Robert Freeman have ever remained constant.
A brief synopsis - Huey and his younger brother Riley are now in the care of their Grandfather, Robert Freeman. Robert or Granddad, has taken the children's inheritance (it is assumed their parents have passed away) and moved them from the South Side of Chicago to Woodcrest - an upper middle class, predominantly white neighborhood. Needless to say, the kids are out of their element and are causing havoc in retaliation of being "kidnapped" from their beloved Chicago home.
Mr. McGruder does not shy away from controversy. As a matter of fact, since most things of importance carry some controversy, basically Mr. McGruder's strip is a commentary on the world today in his world view. The fact that many people (myself included) can understand and agree with this world view is something that should be acknowledged and thought about. Basically, it should scare the crap out of anyone in political and social power.
"The Boondocks" has morphed again - they are now an animated show on Cartoon Network's late night adult-oriented block aptly named "adult swim". A slew of networks attempted to have the series but were not totally enthralled with Mr. McGruder's entire vision. adult swim has given the majority of creative control to Mr. McGruder (as it should be), and he had delivered his brand of wit, humor and insight to a public that is sorely in need especially in this day and age.
The Boondocks - Sunday Nights. adult swim. 11PM - do not miss it.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
Now this cheers me up...
There is fine and then there is Brandy Grace. Welcome to the single greatest reason why I can say without doubt there is a God.
Oh, you guys will see alot of this - trust me. Sometimes, there will just be a bunch of pictures here. Just something that will make me happy. Happy is good.
See what happens when I get into the liquor cabinet - wonderful thangs....
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
The Setup
Over the next couple of days you will see changes here. The colors might change. Images will be added. The links will expand like you won't believe.
Daddy done got in the liquor cabinet again.
Current events, social topics, entertainment, gossip, sports, sex, sex, sex, you get the idea - nothing will be left off the plate. (except peas and brussel sprouts - yuch). So kick back, relax and let Cool Poppa Slade lay down some tracks for you.
When you come here, think of it like a jazz lounge. Music to chill by, good food, better company and maybe a booty call or two.
Later, I hear Cannonball in the background....
Daddy done got in the liquor cabinet again.
Current events, social topics, entertainment, gossip, sports, sex, sex, sex, you get the idea - nothing will be left off the plate. (except peas and brussel sprouts - yuch). So kick back, relax and let Cool Poppa Slade lay down some tracks for you.
When you come here, think of it like a jazz lounge. Music to chill by, good food, better company and maybe a booty call or two.
Later, I hear Cannonball in the background....
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Housecleaning
I'm housecleaning. New look, same old attitude. Changes will be fast and frequent. Get ready, niggaz - it's a new day.
Oh yeah - Watch "The Boondocks" on Sunday nights at 11 PM EST.
You've been warned.
Oh yeah - Watch "The Boondocks" on Sunday nights at 11 PM EST.
You've been warned.
Saturday, July 23, 2005
Short Story - Unfinished Business
He had walked at least twenty city blocks. Since he had forgotten to bring a hand towel, the sweat poured from his forehead like a faucet. He kept wiping his face with his hands to keep the sweat from burning his eyes, but he knew he would pay for that later. Once he returned home, he would have to take preventive measures so his face wouldn’t look like a road map. This thought made him smile inwards. Even at his age, he still looked like a young man. But, the work became harder and harder. His vanity was becoming a job. Is this what this feels like? Is this what his parents and older family members went thru? He had a newfound respect for their diligence.
Finally reaching his destination, he walked over to the front desk and signed the sign-in book. He showed his driver’s license as identification and was directed to a bank of elevators to his left. He thanked the guard and proceeded to the elevators. He got in, as one was already available and pressed the button to the desired floor. He was nervous, and that was rare for him. It had been too long since he had seen his old friend, but circumstances dictated this visit.
While riding the elevator his memory bought him back to their last visit. They had met at Rossini’s and he had ordered veal. They spoke about the old days and what they had planned for the future. They spoke about going to a baseball game that summer. He regretted not going to that game but life reared its head and took control of his time. It had been almost two years since he had last seen him. They spoke regularly on the phone, but it wasn’t the same. Now, he had returned to the city and needed his help. He hated to see him with this problem looming, but he truly had no choice. If he couldn’t help him, then he would have to do things in a manner he had promised himself he wouldn’t partake in any longer. It pained him to think he might have to break his promise to himself, but these were desperate times. If he had another option, he would take it. But, as he often said, a promise is a promise. He had to keep his word if only to be able to live with himself.
He opened the glass doors and again went to the front desk. He asked for his friend and was told to “Please wait”. He did as he was told. After three minutes that felt like a week had passed, his friend came thru a different set of glass doors and received him. He looked at his old friend and smiled. It was returned. They left and his friend had mentioned he lived five blocks away. They went to his apartment and he gave his friend a towel and a glass of water. Then they ate a light lunch and discussed the matter at hand.
When the discussion finished, he looked at his friend for a sign. His friend rose from his chair and briefly excused himself. He returned a short moment later and they left the apartment and entered his friend’s vehicle. They drove to the cemetery. It had been eons since he last visited her. He no longer cried, but the sadness was evident. She was his everything and they took her from him. He had exacted revenge against all except one. His friend nodded to him and they left. He took him directly to the airport. As they said their goodbyes, he hugged his friend and told him to visit soon. He said he would and then he left his friend with a valued piece of advice.
“Make it quick. Wasted time is wasted effort. And remember what I told you earlier, okay?” Once again, his friend nodded and he boarded his flight. He finally had finished the task. He hated unfinished business, and although he truly believed he was willing to let it go, his soul wouldn’t let him.
Three days later, he strolled to the newsstand and bought a New York Daily News newspaper. He scanned the paper and found what he was looking for on page three. A report of one man, recently paroled from prison died in his apartment of apparent natural causes. He smiled inwardly and paid for the paper. He then strolled home, went to his kitchen, poured himself a cup of white tea and heated up a bagel. He opened his refrigerator and took out the cream cheese. As he enjoyed his breakfast, he picked up his cell phone, found the appropriate name and hit dial.
“Nice. Thanks. And I’ll pick you up at the airport on Saturday. Remember, once you’re here, you won’t want to return.”
His friend simply replied, “Yeah, so you keep telling me. I can’t believe you like it there.”
“You will too. Trust me, it’s perfect.”
He hung up upon exchanging information of the flight and times and goodbyes. He then looked in the old shoebox he kept on the counter. His friend’s picture was on top. He burned the picture and had one thought as he returned the box to the old storage closet.
Unfinished business.
Finally reaching his destination, he walked over to the front desk and signed the sign-in book. He showed his driver’s license as identification and was directed to a bank of elevators to his left. He thanked the guard and proceeded to the elevators. He got in, as one was already available and pressed the button to the desired floor. He was nervous, and that was rare for him. It had been too long since he had seen his old friend, but circumstances dictated this visit.
While riding the elevator his memory bought him back to their last visit. They had met at Rossini’s and he had ordered veal. They spoke about the old days and what they had planned for the future. They spoke about going to a baseball game that summer. He regretted not going to that game but life reared its head and took control of his time. It had been almost two years since he had last seen him. They spoke regularly on the phone, but it wasn’t the same. Now, he had returned to the city and needed his help. He hated to see him with this problem looming, but he truly had no choice. If he couldn’t help him, then he would have to do things in a manner he had promised himself he wouldn’t partake in any longer. It pained him to think he might have to break his promise to himself, but these were desperate times. If he had another option, he would take it. But, as he often said, a promise is a promise. He had to keep his word if only to be able to live with himself.
He opened the glass doors and again went to the front desk. He asked for his friend and was told to “Please wait”. He did as he was told. After three minutes that felt like a week had passed, his friend came thru a different set of glass doors and received him. He looked at his old friend and smiled. It was returned. They left and his friend had mentioned he lived five blocks away. They went to his apartment and he gave his friend a towel and a glass of water. Then they ate a light lunch and discussed the matter at hand.
When the discussion finished, he looked at his friend for a sign. His friend rose from his chair and briefly excused himself. He returned a short moment later and they left the apartment and entered his friend’s vehicle. They drove to the cemetery. It had been eons since he last visited her. He no longer cried, but the sadness was evident. She was his everything and they took her from him. He had exacted revenge against all except one. His friend nodded to him and they left. He took him directly to the airport. As they said their goodbyes, he hugged his friend and told him to visit soon. He said he would and then he left his friend with a valued piece of advice.
“Make it quick. Wasted time is wasted effort. And remember what I told you earlier, okay?” Once again, his friend nodded and he boarded his flight. He finally had finished the task. He hated unfinished business, and although he truly believed he was willing to let it go, his soul wouldn’t let him.
Three days later, he strolled to the newsstand and bought a New York Daily News newspaper. He scanned the paper and found what he was looking for on page three. A report of one man, recently paroled from prison died in his apartment of apparent natural causes. He smiled inwardly and paid for the paper. He then strolled home, went to his kitchen, poured himself a cup of white tea and heated up a bagel. He opened his refrigerator and took out the cream cheese. As he enjoyed his breakfast, he picked up his cell phone, found the appropriate name and hit dial.
“Nice. Thanks. And I’ll pick you up at the airport on Saturday. Remember, once you’re here, you won’t want to return.”
His friend simply replied, “Yeah, so you keep telling me. I can’t believe you like it there.”
“You will too. Trust me, it’s perfect.”
He hung up upon exchanging information of the flight and times and goodbyes. He then looked in the old shoebox he kept on the counter. His friend’s picture was on top. He burned the picture and had one thought as he returned the box to the old storage closet.
Unfinished business.
Monday, April 11, 2005
Thoughts of a sports fan....
I love sports. Football, Baseball, Basketball - I'm hooked on the big three. So, this time of year gets me open big time. Baseball season has started, Basketball season is getting ready for the playoffs, and Football info is starting to heat up.
I'm a Pistons fan so I'm hoping they repeat but damn do the Suns look like the real deal, or what? Still, all these people thinking Shaq and Wade and Company gonna rep for da East....sorry - I don't think so. And all you LeBron lovers - he needs another option - just like Mike needed Scotty. In a perfect world, LeBron and Carmelo would've ended up at the same place - unbeatable. Detroit and Phoenix - Detroit in 6.
I've been a Cowboys fan since birth so I'm suffering right now. But, I have faith. If anyone from the cowboys reads this - here's a hint for the draft - Offensive Line.... You got the qb, the back and receivers - get that line in order. Then work on the defense.
Last but not least - Baseball. I'm a Mets fan. Oh, are you laughing? I hear you in the background - 0-4 - ha! Well, now it's 2-4. Get ready - just think of this lineup - Reyes, Matsui, Beltran, Piazza, Floyd, Cameron, Wright, Mientkiewicz. Speed and power. Yeah, you got quiet real quick. But, hey - keep thinking that 0-4 nonsense.
Anyway you look at it - for a sports fan - this should be one helluva summer. See you at the games.....
I'm a Pistons fan so I'm hoping they repeat but damn do the Suns look like the real deal, or what? Still, all these people thinking Shaq and Wade and Company gonna rep for da East....sorry - I don't think so. And all you LeBron lovers - he needs another option - just like Mike needed Scotty. In a perfect world, LeBron and Carmelo would've ended up at the same place - unbeatable. Detroit and Phoenix - Detroit in 6.
I've been a Cowboys fan since birth so I'm suffering right now. But, I have faith. If anyone from the cowboys reads this - here's a hint for the draft - Offensive Line.... You got the qb, the back and receivers - get that line in order. Then work on the defense.
Last but not least - Baseball. I'm a Mets fan. Oh, are you laughing? I hear you in the background - 0-4 - ha! Well, now it's 2-4. Get ready - just think of this lineup - Reyes, Matsui, Beltran, Piazza, Floyd, Cameron, Wright, Mientkiewicz. Speed and power. Yeah, you got quiet real quick. But, hey - keep thinking that 0-4 nonsense.
Anyway you look at it - for a sports fan - this should be one helluva summer. See you at the games.....
Sunday, March 27, 2005
Short Story - Night Moves
The glass doors were reflective. The words “Night Moves” were in script and under it read, “Welcome to Jazz In The City”. Below that read, “Knight Enterprises. 5 William Street, New York, NY.” It was a play on words, Tobias would always say. Night Moves was his pride and joy. It was in essence, his baby. It wasn’t a huge cash cow; actually it barely broke even. But, with his other, more lucrative holdings, he could afford this intimate, quaint little place. His fear was that some respected critic would wander in, have a great time, and tell the world about Tobias’ little secret hideaway. Then the masses would show and his sweet little jazz club would become another hangout for the rich and stupid. The mere thought froze him to the bone.
Regulars compared it to Bradley’s. Room enough for a nice trio, no more than a quartet. Great acoustics. A small but excellent menu, which was not too pricey. Top shelf liquor and since it was labeled a “Private Club” because Tobias made everyone buy a membership to enter you could smoke there. What Tobias didn’t tell anyone willingly was the membership price: ten dollars lifetime. If you had a membership you fell under one of these categories:
1) A friend of the owner or employee
2) A jazz aficionado
3) Someone from the neighborhood who frequented the joint.
4) An employee of Knight Enterprises.
That’s it and, if you fell under category four, you probably had no clue. It was something included in your employment package. Most people overlooked it. Tobias would never advertise who was performing. They would call Len and he would see if the night was free and say sure, come on in. You didn’t get paid. You could play three songs or thirty. But, you better be damn good because the regular crowd at Night Moves truly knew their shit. And if you were mediocre, you were fucked because your rep was going to take a hit. The word would get out. Only the real players would show up. They usually would try out new material or just jam their tails off with someone they always wanted to work with. The best kept secret in New York.
Sometimes dates would wander in and look around. Most would stay. It had a romantic atmosphere. It was comfortable and semi-private. You could seriously get your mack on in Night Moves. A long mahogany bar welcomed you. Some booths in the back. Dimly lit. Smoky. A throwback, his nephew would call it. A few notables were regulars but they understood that Tobias didn’t want publicity. You want to have a release party, go to Jay-Z’s club or Paris Hilton’s. Don’t even attempt to ask Tobias for that. He would look at you with that look he had. The one that would say, “Stop – you don’t want to go there.” And they didn’t.
One night, he sang for two hours. A well-kept secret was that, if he wanted to, Tobias could probably have his own record contract. He had a great voice. Could sing like Luther Vandross with Joe Williams’ phrasing. He sang classics all night. The staff was so enamored that they would routinely ask him to sing and he conceded when they would clean up he would take the mike. They would all sit around after clean up and listen to the boss tear into “Since I Fell For You”, “Everyday I Have The Blues”, “Smokin’ Joe”, “Moody’s Mood For Love”, “One For My Baby”, “Brown Sugar”, and his favorite, “A House Is Not A Home”. Premiere jazz musicians would ask him for arrangements and he would do them without credit. His ghost writing was infamous. Tobias was a strange man but not complicated. He knew how to make money. Pure and simple. And he gave other real estate investors a run in New York. So much so, when he started to venture outside of New York, they all took notice. His properties were high end and quickly bought. He would keep a select few and rent them out. A condo here, an office building there, a golf resort and an entire residential district. He had three post resorts in Europe. Two more in Jamaica. That’s it. And it didn’t help that he knew he had to work out because he liked food way too much. So, he got in shape at the age of 38 and kept it. He had his addictions – fashion, cigarettes, fine bourbon and scotch, music and cars. Sports were a passion he indulged in privately. So were women.
When he found out he was on the “Most desirable bachelor list” he cringed. His picture was in New York magazine because he made the mistake of sitting next to Shawn Carter and Beyonce Knowles at a Knicks game. Once the word was out, he stayed at the club far more frequently. They had no idea he owned it. Until last night.
Ving Rhames and Tobias were friends for years. Ever since they met at a Branford Marsalis concert at Lincoln Center, they were waiting on their rides and struck up a conversation. Next thing you know they’re at Shelly’s having a conversation about Clifford Brown with Branford and his band. After that, they would routinely meet up to hear some good jazz and eat some good food. Ving was one of those people who understood about privacy and respected the fact that Tobias never asked him for anything simply because he was famous. It was Ving’s idea about a jazz club and he was the first member. He had his own table. So when Ving asked him could they tape the jazz club scenes at Night Moves provided he never showed the outside of the club, Tobias had no problem with it. Then “Kojak” took off. Became a media darling and the word got out. Ving apologized, but he didn’t need to. Tobias didn’t blame his friend for the intrusion; it was some grip that was clueless. So when three critics came by and later reviewed the club in Time Out, the Times and Citysearch, Tobias knew the masses would stop gawking and come in. Damn.
To top it off, Prince wanted to jam there after his concert. He had John Legend, Alicia Keys, and some others with him. These teenagers found out and they besieged the place. Prince literally begged Tobias to let them in. He relented and they came back for a month thinking it was the hip place to be. When he finally got his place back, he said never again. Even Prince felt bad that he had done that to his friend and swore he would never have an after-jam there again. Tobias told him it was cool, don’t sweat it. He could play there anytime he wanted just don’t bring the youngins again. Prince agreed.
What was done was done. So, Tobias made some subtle changes. He would open the club at midnight and close at six. He would institute an age limit. And the membership rule would be strictly enforced. Also, you had to be at least a couple. For every male there had to be a female and vice versa. Once all these rules came into play, the crowd dwindled quickly. After three months, he went back to the old way of doing things. He still had the occasional crowd come by, but he could live with it.
Now, all that might change. Jazz clubs were making a major comeback in New York and Night Moves’ reputation as a premier spot was making noise. Tobias had to make a decision because no amount of rules would keep the masses away. He made one major change. Night Moves would only be open Monday thru Friday. No weekends for the public. Only if you had something that he instituted called a “Premier Membership” could you enter on the weekends. You got one of those by invitation only. It was the only way he could find peace.
With his worst fear finally realized, Tobias made damn sure there would be no other fallout. He believed in the purity of the music. That had to be preserved. He would honor the legacy of The Blue Note, The Village Vanguard, Bradley’s, The Village Gate, Birdland, The Lennox Lounge, Iridium, and the newly legendary Smoke. It was a matter of honor. New York, Chicago, Kansas City and Los Angeles jazz history was long and revered. He decided a “Night Moves” jazz club would live in each city. He would have artists spread the word that they now had safe haven in an unruly musical landscape. The legend would live. The music would be respected and submitted to the masses as it was meant to. For the first time in many years, Tobias Knight felt happy. For the first time in too many years, Tobias Knight smiled.
Regulars compared it to Bradley’s. Room enough for a nice trio, no more than a quartet. Great acoustics. A small but excellent menu, which was not too pricey. Top shelf liquor and since it was labeled a “Private Club” because Tobias made everyone buy a membership to enter you could smoke there. What Tobias didn’t tell anyone willingly was the membership price: ten dollars lifetime. If you had a membership you fell under one of these categories:
1) A friend of the owner or employee
2) A jazz aficionado
3) Someone from the neighborhood who frequented the joint.
4) An employee of Knight Enterprises.
That’s it and, if you fell under category four, you probably had no clue. It was something included in your employment package. Most people overlooked it. Tobias would never advertise who was performing. They would call Len and he would see if the night was free and say sure, come on in. You didn’t get paid. You could play three songs or thirty. But, you better be damn good because the regular crowd at Night Moves truly knew their shit. And if you were mediocre, you were fucked because your rep was going to take a hit. The word would get out. Only the real players would show up. They usually would try out new material or just jam their tails off with someone they always wanted to work with. The best kept secret in New York.
Sometimes dates would wander in and look around. Most would stay. It had a romantic atmosphere. It was comfortable and semi-private. You could seriously get your mack on in Night Moves. A long mahogany bar welcomed you. Some booths in the back. Dimly lit. Smoky. A throwback, his nephew would call it. A few notables were regulars but they understood that Tobias didn’t want publicity. You want to have a release party, go to Jay-Z’s club or Paris Hilton’s. Don’t even attempt to ask Tobias for that. He would look at you with that look he had. The one that would say, “Stop – you don’t want to go there.” And they didn’t.
One night, he sang for two hours. A well-kept secret was that, if he wanted to, Tobias could probably have his own record contract. He had a great voice. Could sing like Luther Vandross with Joe Williams’ phrasing. He sang classics all night. The staff was so enamored that they would routinely ask him to sing and he conceded when they would clean up he would take the mike. They would all sit around after clean up and listen to the boss tear into “Since I Fell For You”, “Everyday I Have The Blues”, “Smokin’ Joe”, “Moody’s Mood For Love”, “One For My Baby”, “Brown Sugar”, and his favorite, “A House Is Not A Home”. Premiere jazz musicians would ask him for arrangements and he would do them without credit. His ghost writing was infamous. Tobias was a strange man but not complicated. He knew how to make money. Pure and simple. And he gave other real estate investors a run in New York. So much so, when he started to venture outside of New York, they all took notice. His properties were high end and quickly bought. He would keep a select few and rent them out. A condo here, an office building there, a golf resort and an entire residential district. He had three post resorts in Europe. Two more in Jamaica. That’s it. And it didn’t help that he knew he had to work out because he liked food way too much. So, he got in shape at the age of 38 and kept it. He had his addictions – fashion, cigarettes, fine bourbon and scotch, music and cars. Sports were a passion he indulged in privately. So were women.
When he found out he was on the “Most desirable bachelor list” he cringed. His picture was in New York magazine because he made the mistake of sitting next to Shawn Carter and Beyonce Knowles at a Knicks game. Once the word was out, he stayed at the club far more frequently. They had no idea he owned it. Until last night.
Ving Rhames and Tobias were friends for years. Ever since they met at a Branford Marsalis concert at Lincoln Center, they were waiting on their rides and struck up a conversation. Next thing you know they’re at Shelly’s having a conversation about Clifford Brown with Branford and his band. After that, they would routinely meet up to hear some good jazz and eat some good food. Ving was one of those people who understood about privacy and respected the fact that Tobias never asked him for anything simply because he was famous. It was Ving’s idea about a jazz club and he was the first member. He had his own table. So when Ving asked him could they tape the jazz club scenes at Night Moves provided he never showed the outside of the club, Tobias had no problem with it. Then “Kojak” took off. Became a media darling and the word got out. Ving apologized, but he didn’t need to. Tobias didn’t blame his friend for the intrusion; it was some grip that was clueless. So when three critics came by and later reviewed the club in Time Out, the Times and Citysearch, Tobias knew the masses would stop gawking and come in. Damn.
To top it off, Prince wanted to jam there after his concert. He had John Legend, Alicia Keys, and some others with him. These teenagers found out and they besieged the place. Prince literally begged Tobias to let them in. He relented and they came back for a month thinking it was the hip place to be. When he finally got his place back, he said never again. Even Prince felt bad that he had done that to his friend and swore he would never have an after-jam there again. Tobias told him it was cool, don’t sweat it. He could play there anytime he wanted just don’t bring the youngins again. Prince agreed.
What was done was done. So, Tobias made some subtle changes. He would open the club at midnight and close at six. He would institute an age limit. And the membership rule would be strictly enforced. Also, you had to be at least a couple. For every male there had to be a female and vice versa. Once all these rules came into play, the crowd dwindled quickly. After three months, he went back to the old way of doing things. He still had the occasional crowd come by, but he could live with it.
Now, all that might change. Jazz clubs were making a major comeback in New York and Night Moves’ reputation as a premier spot was making noise. Tobias had to make a decision because no amount of rules would keep the masses away. He made one major change. Night Moves would only be open Monday thru Friday. No weekends for the public. Only if you had something that he instituted called a “Premier Membership” could you enter on the weekends. You got one of those by invitation only. It was the only way he could find peace.
With his worst fear finally realized, Tobias made damn sure there would be no other fallout. He believed in the purity of the music. That had to be preserved. He would honor the legacy of The Blue Note, The Village Vanguard, Bradley’s, The Village Gate, Birdland, The Lennox Lounge, Iridium, and the newly legendary Smoke. It was a matter of honor. New York, Chicago, Kansas City and Los Angeles jazz history was long and revered. He decided a “Night Moves” jazz club would live in each city. He would have artists spread the word that they now had safe haven in an unruly musical landscape. The legend would live. The music would be respected and submitted to the masses as it was meant to. For the first time in many years, Tobias Knight felt happy. For the first time in too many years, Tobias Knight smiled.
Saturday, March 26, 2005
For The Love Of The Game
Arizona vs Illinois
West Virginia vs Louisville
NCAA Men's College Basketball
The Elite Eight - the first half - Saturday, March 26th, 2005
Two overtimes.
Leaving it all on the floor.
No pay. No contract. No endorsements.
For the love of the game.
This is why they call it "March Madness". You've never seen anything like this. Ever.
Thank you.
West Virginia vs Louisville
NCAA Men's College Basketball
The Elite Eight - the first half - Saturday, March 26th, 2005
Two overtimes.
Leaving it all on the floor.
No pay. No contract. No endorsements.
For the love of the game.
This is why they call it "March Madness". You've never seen anything like this. Ever.
Thank you.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Welcome to Slade's Place
Hi,
I'm Slade. Slade Wilson, the owner of Slade's Place. It's like a strange new world you've just walked into. We tell stories here. Wonderful, happy, sad, sometimes very nasty and sometimes very real stories. We have beer on tap and top shelf liquor in the back. Pull up a stool and listen...
Here at Slade's, we invite anyone to hang out, chill, have a drink, whatever. But there are a few rules:
1) Slade (that's me) has final say over everything. Hey, my house...
2) There will be no insults that have racist or sexist overtones - keep that bullshit to yourself. We have a zero tolerance level for that. Everyone has a say and everyone is equal.
3) Anyone who tweaks my nerves - my foot - your ass - outta here.
4) Remember to ask for that drink or smoke.... it's all cool....
That's it. I'm kinda open. The shingle's up. Have a blast..... Later.
I'm Slade. Slade Wilson, the owner of Slade's Place. It's like a strange new world you've just walked into. We tell stories here. Wonderful, happy, sad, sometimes very nasty and sometimes very real stories. We have beer on tap and top shelf liquor in the back. Pull up a stool and listen...
Here at Slade's, we invite anyone to hang out, chill, have a drink, whatever. But there are a few rules:
1) Slade (that's me) has final say over everything. Hey, my house...
2) There will be no insults that have racist or sexist overtones - keep that bullshit to yourself. We have a zero tolerance level for that. Everyone has a say and everyone is equal.
3) Anyone who tweaks my nerves - my foot - your ass - outta here.
4) Remember to ask for that drink or smoke.... it's all cool....
That's it. I'm kinda open. The shingle's up. Have a blast..... Later.
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