The dark soul with soul

So Ethan commissioned me to add some soul to this banal blog, and somehow breath much needed life into it.


Sure it's got a myriad of YouTube videos by artists no one gives a shit about but a blog, a young man's blog, needs more than that. It needs sex, drugs, alcohol, more drugs, more sex and a dash of attitude. And yes, that's where I come in.


I suppose it'd be appropriate for me to introduce myself. My name is Rodney Parker. Yes, I'm black. Yes, I do consider people who call me "Rodney King" when I tell them my first name is "Rodney" assholes. No, I can't play basketball. Yes, I do find fried chicken tasty. Yes, I do have a penchant for white chicks with big butts. Yes, I can read and write at a college level. And finally, no...no, I don't sell drugs...to children.


Ethan brought me aboard primarily out of guilt. He voted for the black guy who ran for president this past November but only has one (okay, maybe two) black friends. I'm the authority on every black question he has. Plus, I'm versed in a cornucopia of areas, among them the arts, music, dance, and sex. Who doesn't love sex, right? Okay, enough about sex.


For my first post, I'm going to skim over a genre of music that has long since been forgotten by my people: jazz. I'm a self proclaimed "jazzophile" and I'm probably one of a few African Americans under 50 that genuinely likes jazz. Jazz was usurped by White America from our community in the 1960s, a "fair" barter for our right to vote. Over the past 40 years, hacks like Kenny G and Michael Buble have destroyed what was once a gallant musical artform.


The artist that makes my blood boil is one of the greatest jazz trumpeters of all time. Most people go nuts for Miles Davis. Miles was a phenomenal player but, for the most part, was overrated. His low to mid register shenanigans got him an exorbiant amount of fame and fortune, but it never truly knocked my socks off. If anything, Miles was a brilliant talent scout, and was capable of surrounding himself with players that outshined him. Most people are unaware of who jazz great Lee Morgan was and his influence on jazz. Morgan came into the spotlight during his stint in drummer Art Blakey's group The Jazz Messengers in the late 1950s and early 1960s. Morgan, like a lot of jazz greats, had issues with drugs and sat out a few years during the early 60s. He came back with a vengence when he released his most renown effort. "The Sidewinder", and scored a hit with its title track (the tune was used in early 60s Chrysler commercials and during the Super Bowl of '64...whatever fucking Super Bowl number that was!)


Anyhow, here's Morgan playing trumpet with The Jazz Messengers:

And here's one of my favorite Lee Morgan renditions of an old tune (on one of my favorite albums of all time) entitled "You Go To My Head":

Well, if I've enriched your lives in any way shape or form, you're welcome. I would write more, but Ethan's not paying me...yet. 'Til next time.

-Rodney