fiction and musings from a gay black dude with delusions above his station
[Originally published on the gar spot in January 2011.] The fantasy started that night, in the shades of black he wore and the shades of tan that made up our skin as we stood together in the wings overlooking the orchestra. I stood behind him and allowed my hand to brush against his, allowed my breath…
{Ed. note: Much of the biographical information in this article is supported by Lush Life: A Biography of Billy Strayhorn by David Hajdu (North Point Press, 1996).} By the time the Duke Ellington Orchestra went on their first State Department-sponsored tour, which yielded The Far East Suite, long-time Ellington co-composer and arranger Billy Strayhorn was already a…
In 1956, during the halcyon days of the Cold War and immediately after the McCarthy era, the US State Department began an interesting experiment. Take some of America’s top jazz talent and put them on tour to spread goodwill and music to the people’s of the world. They selected Dizzy Gillespie, a showman’s showman, to…
My mom used to say of Mozart that one can like only a third of Mozart’s music and still like a lot of Mozart. Very true. In his short 30 years of composing he wrote a staggering number of pieces. The Köchel catalog of Mozart’s work, which has been revised many times to accommodate newly discovered…
In conjunction with an exhibit on the life and music of Billy Strayhorn at the San Francisco Main Library, in May of 2009, there was a concert held one Saturday afternoon. The performance featured The Junius Courtney Big Band and singer Denise Perrier. They alternated between music and short stage vignettes that dramatized various milestones in…
Rick called on Lionel’s cell just as he was packing up his briefcase. It had been a long ass day filled with too many meetings about too much stuff that they had been dealing with for too long and he wanted to bolt from the office. So naturally, the phone rang. He hadn’t even had…
Sonja didn’t tell her everything. She didn’t tell her about her father’s cackling. But she did tell her about the origin of the pink ribbon. She did mention Rick’s name. And she did tell her that Mickey met his late partner because he couldn’t get over the pink ribbon on Mickey’s horn as he played….
“Sonja! Oh my God, girl, how are you? How’s it blowing?” “It’s blowing,” she replied with a smile that Leticia could hear over the phone. “It’s good to hear from you, Sonja.” As Mickey rounded out the ballad he cooed from his tenor sax, Sonja opened her eyes. She reclined on his too comfortable…
He stood eyes closed and let the notes wash over him as he leaned against the wall, a Diet Coke hanging from one hand. He barely allowed her to speak when she arrived. “Take it out and play something,” he said. She complied. First came the stomper, now crooned the ballad. It threatened to lull…
As soon as Lionel entered the family room, tie undone, shirt untucked, beer can in hand, his eyes fell on the saxophone. It has occupied the same corner, slouched at the same unaltered angle, for the past four days. Dust has settled on its upper slopes. A cobweb draped between one of the keys and…
