First novel by a writer and journalist specializing in politics. After a terrible family tragedy, the French hero, fascinated by North American, went to New York, wrote a bestseller, then staying in Arizona among the Hopi Indians to seek balance and serenity. The work addresses a variety of settings and subjects: journalism, film, publishing, jazz, creative writing, drugs.
Alain Genestar, the American barracks, 1997, Grasset
Notes: "It is impossible, at least for me, to hear jazz without superimpose images. Later, I preferred the art and critical listening on the passive reception [...] liberating images of the missing. They revived the sounds of Miles Davis or Thelonious Monk. Dear Thelonious [...] The only jazz has a consistent and comprehensive language [...] It speaks to the soul "(p.118-119)" I began to manage both the piano in English [...] it was familiar language, that of Charlie Parker, Duke Ellington, Lester Young, Billie Holiday and Nat King Cole, whose names already were words of English [...] tells the life of Charlie Parker called Bird [...] talked Joe Oliver, King of New Orleans, Louis Armstrong, "Satchmo" big lips, Charles Mingus "(p.141-142) Daniel Marnay, head of Jazz Magazine had an encyclopedic knowledge of jazz and intimate . He could talk for hours [...] I shared with him the belief that music is explained, however, if it is explainable, at least she can feel the soul of rummaging through his interpreter "(p.222)" Louis Armstrong had been hospitalized [...] This is not a Black man who is dying. It is God. And all jazz lovers know that God is Black [...] I write the column on Armstrong in Harlem. No. You go to Harlem and you pursue on women. At 24, Armstrong recorded in New York with the greatest blues singers: Clara Smith, Ma Rainey, Eva Taylor, Maggie Jones and Bessie Smith especially [...] Remember: Reckless blues Sobbin 'hearted blues "(p. 223) "I spent my nights at the Vanguard, I was a regular at all the clubs: The Five Spot, Blue Note, Nick's Tavern, Minton, the very posh and very expensive on Broadway Birdland, Small's Paradise or the Count Basie's Bar. I listened with great one of them gigantic, Miles Davis "(p.224) Interview with Miles:" He received me in his delusional duplex [...] I liked your paper on Louis in April not bad for a White [...] I have not fired. Why? I do not know [...] I lived with Parker in New York in the same apartment for all I know of him in his shadow, the shadow of the Bird [...] There is only one music black, it includes all [...] at the Newport festival, I was a triumph, so I told Coltrane: But what do they have to applaud those idiots [...] I merges nothing [...] It should be white and cracked to say such things. Me, I confront my style to that of McLaughlin and he is saying. As Coltrane sax answered me. That's it. Do not try to explain this with your theories to con [...] with Charlie, it was stoned to death for five years and then I wanted to stop [...] lying on the ground, I looked at the ceiling for twelve days [...] when I got up, it was over [...] Charlie died, I could not play anymore, then I took my trumpet, hired Coltrane, and motherfuckers Newport made me a triumph [...] He took his trumpet and beckoned me to follow [...] just a piano in the middle [...] You know how to play? Mal. -Who cares. Give me the reply [...] I knew by heart The man I love, the famous conversation between Thelonious Monk and Miles Davis [...] I played and listened to respond to my notes [...] The next day [...] I wrote the interview for the double page of Jazz Magazine "(p.225-235)" Miles Davis Dining in Factory Pretty [...] question from one of them: Why are they modern painters and jazz musicians of whites more often than blacks? [...] Made by Miles: You can live with a trumpet but it takes years and lots of luck to make money with a brush [...] If a Black painted as Jasper Jones, critics say that his white paint is raw art, primitive African "(p.249) In the Hopi Reservation: "On a green and yellow phono bought the General Store, I listen to my old records by Thelonious Monk Crepuscule With Nellie, Charlie Parker Now's The Time, Miles Davis, So What, Bitches Brew" (p.304) "The limousine s stopped in each village of low houses, Miles went down and played, the Indians came up to listen, he played for another hour and then went back and questioned them [...] It was the most beautiful concert given in memory itinerant the Hopi people [...] The notes were up to him [...] mixed Aranjuez and The Man I Love [...] On the basketball court at the center, near a long white car, a man dressed as a snake was playing his trumpet straight above him, pointing skywards "(p.316).
0 comments:
Post a Comment