bluuebunny/crossref_metadata_2025_split huggingface dataset:
Quemoy (Kinmen)
Authors: Davis Paul K 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
The rivalry between the communist and Nationalist forces in China resulted in a civil war that raged throughout the 1930s until the Japanese invaded China in 1937. At that point, communist leader Mao Tse-tung and Nation-terparts. The U.S. Joint Chiefs of Staff began planning nuclear strikes against mainland cities, primarily Shanghai and Canton. The strength of the American response gave Beijing pause, and on 6 September. Chinese Premier Chou en-Lai proposed ambassadorial-level talks. A month later the Communists declared a one-week halt to the bombardment in order to begin peace talks, if American ships would stop escorting the resupply ships. He also announced that the Communists would refrain from artillery or air attacks on Quemoy or on supply vessels on even-numbered days.
The Sixth Invention: Getting High
Authors: Smith W Stephen , Chipman Michael 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
The Sixth Invention, Getting High, is a synthesis of all of the previous exercises and a further refinement of the skills acquired. It assumes a high level of clean phonation, free-flowing air, tonal balance, spontaneity, and flexibility. Technically, it involves a lengthy scale that begins in the lowest part of the voice and modulates as it moves upward and then returns to the low voice. Philosophically, Getting High involves stretching and reaching for our fullest potential, pushing beyond what is comfortable and easy. On one level, Getting High refers to the euphoria of transcending limitations, enhancing abilities, and broadening horizons. On another level, this invention is about extending our vocal range—literally getting high.
La Voce Is You
Authors: Smith W Stephen , Chipman Michael 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
In the previous chapter I discussed the challenges involved in getting a career started, such as auditioning and choosing repertoire. In this chapter, I explore additional challenges singers face, including taking responsibility for their own careers and lives, professional etiquette and expectations, how to be a good colleague, how and when to say no, and dealing with conductors, directors, and colleagues. As in every other chapter of this book, the most important consideration in living life as a singer is always to be true to yourself.
How to Be Successful
Authors: Smith W Stephen , Chipman Michael 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
The typical definition of success is the attainment of fame and/or wealth. I believe true success is finding our own unique path and staying on it. We might become rich and famous while following that path, but fame and wealth are really only byproducts of true success, if we achieve them at all. Just as we continually examine and refine our singing, our own personal definition of success must be constantly reexamined and refined.
Out of the Vinyl Deeps (Record Rarities)
Authors: Giddins Gary 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
All music lovers become record lovers and many record lovers become collectors. Records approximate Malraux’s museum without walls, offering an inexpensive way to pursue not only masterworks and favorites, but also oddities that fill the side galleries where dilettantes rarely venture. Before the late 1930s, old records were relegated to bargain labels; there was little call for the technocracy to cede a part of its holdings to nostalgia—even movie studios assumed that yesterday’s productions had no future. Now there is a respectable market that buys only old, supporting an endless stream of reissues. Yet the vaults remain jampacked, timed to burst open on that increasingly distant day when the vintage stuff goes public domain (as it already has in Europe), a day, sadly, that Congress is determined to forestall as long as “special interest” lobbies grease its wheels. In the interim, record companies go about their business with the cryptic motives that have long made them so beloved of music lovers— numerous jazz masterpieces remain unavailable, while relative obscurities bob to the surface. Fortunately, some of those obscurities really do deserve a second chance. They may not be masterpieces, but they’re at least as good as and more revealing than the bottom-drawer output of many socially condoned savants.
Hipper Than Thou (Bob Dorough)
Authors: Giddins Gary 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
I was having a high old time listening to Bob Dorough’s new record, Too Much Coffee Man (Blue Note), which may be his best, when my assistant Elora walked in and exclaimed with a slight interrogatory, “Schoolhouse Rock!?” She had never heard of Dorough, but she recognized the voice. I had never heard of Schoolhouse Rock, so she brought in her four-disc Rhino set and played her favorites, including a masterpiece, “My Hero, Zero,” noting “You will not find anyone of my generation who does not know the words to ‘Electricity Electricity’ and ‘Conjunction Junction.’” She proved the point with a recitation augmented by a description of the animation that accompanied the songs when the short instructive cartoons appeared on television. Dorough was music director for the series and wrote most of the songs. “I learned the multiplication tables from him,” Elora marveled. “We had great TV then.” Well, every generation thinks it had great TV. But it occurred to me that many people over the past 50 years have heard Bob Dorough without knowing it. He has cast a pretty long zigzag shadow since he left Cherry Hill, Arkansas, got a degree in composition at North Texas State, moved to New York to be part of the jazz scene, and served two years as music director for—no kidding—Sugar Ray Robinson. In the ‘60s, for example, he pulled strings for Spanky & Our Gang and Chad Mitchell, pie, a draft card notice, a social security card, Webster’s definitions of love, and my three particular favorites—a laundry ticket (“Not Responsible for Shrink”), air passenger instructions (“Should the Need Arise”), and an upholstery label (“Do Not Remove This Tag”). At no time does he even hint that any of this is funny.
Saved by the Classics: Bell Two (Bell Atlantic 2000)
Authors: Giddins Gary 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
Okay, so Michael Dorf is not the Flo Ziegfeld of jazz, not yet. Forgive the pre-festival enthusiasm, but the pain of festivals past, like the pain of pregnancy, has no shelf life. Last year at this time I was vowing to be in another country this year at this time, but then I looked at the schedule—Ornette! Max and Cecil! the Art Ensemble!—and capitulated to a heedless optimism. Where else would you want to be and how could anything go wrong? Such a simple concept: You exchange a ticket for a specific seat, the lights go down at a prearranged time, great musicians emerge to play great music. But that’s not exactly the way the Bell Atlantic Jazz Festival works. In its second year and with tentacles in D.C., Boston, and Philadelphia, the heir to the long-running Knitting Factory What Is Jazz? Festival and a fleeting season of Texaco sponsorship wants to be at once inclusive, legit, and Bohemian.* So the great music that was played cost more than the price of a ticket. Consider the following triptych of big events. All were imperfect. But unlike many of the lesser shows, at least they weren’t predictable.
Saturnal Sorcery (Sun Ra)
Authors: Giddins Gary 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
Early one morning, listening to Sun Ra’s recently restored Pathways to Unknown Worlds, I became preoccupied with the grainy glissandi that bassist Ronnie Boykins was bowing, rifflike, against a cluttered rhythm and pointillistic wind-playing. Then the phone rang and I hit pause; the music stopped, but Boykins kept at it. What Saturnal sorcery was this? Turned out it wasn’t Boykins at all, but a carpenter on the roof laboring with some kind of drill. In fact, a lot of effects that I had been admiring came from him and other workmen who fused so beautifully with Sun Ra’s Arkestra that I had to turn the volume up to sort out who was doing what. A Cageian moment, and long live indeterminacy. Nearly two minutes into “Cosmo-Media,” the fourth track on the same album, Sun Ra uses his Moog to sound more like a drill than the drill. Long live serendipity, too. The 1986 Coney Island concert by Sun Ra and John Cage failed utterly, musically and even symbolically, because Ra, a conservative in this regard, thought art was the process of making something out of nothing, and Cage, a composer turned philosopher turned confidence man, could no longer think of anything worthwhile to fill the silence he had so famously introduced into the concert arena. Ra, often characterized as a trickster for his extraterrestrial, occultist, costumed, showbusiness blarney, which he believed in no less sincerely than did Cage in the musical uses of the I Ching, never permitted himself to be seduced by the sound of silence. His notion of chance extended to record sessions that declined to distinguish between performance and rehearsal and audio engineering that embraced feedback, footsteps, a ringing phone, a pneumatic drill.
All the Things He Was (Carnegie Hall Jazz Band)
Authors: Giddins Gary 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
While visiting Hollywood in 1946, a few months after Jerome Kern’s passing, Dizzy Gillespie collaborated with arranger Johnny Richards on a Kern memorial album. They recorded four of his most famous songs— “Who?” “The Way You Look Tonight,” “Why Do I Love You?” “All the Things You Are”—in a novel setting of more than a dozen strings plus woodwinds, French horn, harp, and a state-of-the-art rhythm section (Al Haig, Ray Brown, and Roy Haynes), nearly three years before Charlie Parker’s first aborted attempt to record with strings. Gillespie was in superb form, playing with exhilarating finesse on “The Way You Look Tonight.” Yet those records were largely lost to history. One 78 was issued by Paramount and promptly withdrawn because of complaints from the Kern estate that Gillespie’s approach was insufficiently respectful. The remaining tracks were buried until all four turned up on an underground label 30 years later. Kern’s estate had no legal standing, only powers of suasion, and as a result Kern has often been presumed to be anti jazz.
The Neglected King of Song (Bing Crosby)
Authors: Giddins Gary 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
For the last decade, whenever I mentioned to anyone that I was working on a life of Bing Crosby, the usual response was, “Why?” I can’t say I was surprised. For 30 years, between 1927 and 1956, Crosby was a looming presence in America’s cultural landscape. At the peak of his career, in the 1930s and 1940s, he was thought by many to be the most famous American alive. For much of that period, he was undoubtedly the most beloved. The cycle of “Road” pictures with Bob Hope established Crosby as an accomplished comic actor. Yet by the 1960s, the ocean began to roll over Der Bingle, and though he continued to sell millions of records—chiefly holiday songs—he had morphed into a grand old man while retaining little of the bite of his contemporary, Louis Armstrong, or his offspring, Frank Sinatra. When he made his unexpected return to the stage in 1976, at New York’s Uris Theater (his first live appearance before a paying audience in more than 40 years), I attended a rehearsal as well as the show, and spoke with him briefly. My review (included in Riding on a Blue Note) was appreciative but skeptical. I found him at once irresistible and detached, a fascinating vestige from another age.
Memorophiliac (Vijay Iyer)
Authors: Giddins Gary 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
The long fingers of pianist Vijay Iyer, who appeared with his quartet in the Jazz Gallery series, “Pianobility,” look like tarantula legs as they scamper across the keys, arched high and slightly bent at the knuckles. In liner notes and promotional materials, he has aligned himself with the percussive school of jazz piano—Ellington, Hines, Monk, Powell, Taylor, Nichols, Weston, Tyner, and the rest—and you can hear the influences at work, but he doesn’t sound like any of them. His touch is firm and dramatic, in accord with his penchant for vamps (put Ibrahim on the list) and architectonic structures and ringing overtones (Jamal, too); yet its very deliberation suggests more of a pressing than a striking of the keys (also Pullen and Walton). In an era of homages, Iyer is no slouch: His notes to his first CD, the nicely titled Memorophilia, include his pantheon of more than 80 musicians “and many others, of course.” Still, his sound is his own and you would recognize it in a blindfold test. That alone is impressive, particularly for an academic—degrees from Yale and Berkeley and a dissertation, “Microstructures of Feel, Macrostructures of Sound: Embodied Cognition in West African and AfricanAmerican Musics.” (Academics have to write like that; it’s a law.) Iyer is full of words and himself: His music, he says in the notes to Architextures, is about “what I have learned as a member of the post-colonial, multicultural South Asian diaspora, as a person of color peering in critically from the margins of American mainstream culture, and as a human being with a body, a mind, memories, emotions, and spiritual aspirations.” That may be true, but, happily, his music lacks any whiff of homework. Like his touch, it is spry and darting—very smart and without a need to show off or push a point. South Asian tropes are handily reconciled. Programmatic titles aside, his music is all music.
Surviving the Marketplace (Sonny Stitt / Bobby Hackett)
Authors: Giddins Gary 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
All artists who have to work for a living are coaxed into adjusting the aspirations of their talent to the fashions of the marketplace. Recent compilations on Mosaic, the mail-order company in Stamford, Connecticut, indicate how two freelancers handled this dilemma. Although only nine years separate Bobby Hackett from Sonny Stitt, that’s a generational leap in jazz—it’s the difference between coming of age with Armstrong’s big bang and to maturity in an era of Dixieland and swing, and coming of age with swing’s big bands and to maturity with bebop and r&b. Yet from the purview of a new century, the symmetries overwhelm the distinctions. The Complete Capitol Bobby Hackett Solo Sessions and The Complete Roost Sonny Stitt Studio Sessions capture both men at personal peaks while muddling through compromised or indifferent settings. Mosaic, it should be noted, does not edit best-of sets. If the constituent albums were available separately (they aren’t at present), one or two from each box might satisfy most listeners. On display here are warts-and-all biographical portraits of two pros making their way.
Personality (Houston Person)
Authors: Giddins Gary 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
One might argue, though not too strenuously, that three central tribes of tenor saxophonists emerged just after the war: those who played Lester Young hard, those who played him soft, and those who played Illinois Jacquet. All merged their primary influences with bebop’s phrasing and shivered their timbres with leanings toward any number of other tenor saxophonists. Some even played Young hard and soft, or Young and Jacquet, who was himself obviously influenced by Young. Still, a distinction can be made, and part of it has to do with the fact that Young’s disciples (and those of Coleman Hawkins and Ben Webster) grounded jazz’s serious evolution, attracting serious listeners, serious critiquing, and serious pedagogy. Jacquet’s brood, including the Lester-inspired Gene Ammons, leads to that presumably middlebrow school of tenors who often affix themselves to organ trios, name tunes after soul food, put semi-naked women on album covers, tour chiefly in black ‘hoods, and like—really like—dancers. They attract listeners who clap in time, critics or at least annotators who fetishize simplicity and are really DJs anyway, and no pedagogues at all.
How Not to Broaden the Jazz Canvas (Carnegie Hall Jazz Band)
Authors: Giddins Gary 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
The unceremonious booting of the Carnegie Hall Jazz Band from Carnegie Hall is old news, but hasn’t been much addressed in or out of the jazz press, perhaps because George Wein, whose baby the CHJB was, capitulated without a fight to the hall’s new executive director, Robert J. Harth. The public excuse, and it’s a beaut, is that the hall wants to expand its presentation of jazz by looking to a wide variety of artists rather than one ensemble. Oh joy!—I so look forward to eating the words I’m about to deploy. Harth, the son of two concert violinists who was previously in charge of the Aspen Music Festival, where presentation of jazz was nonexistent, has told CHJB conductor and music director Jon Faddis that he intends no artistic slight. He just wants to broaden the jazz canvas. Apparently, the CHJB’s four evenings a year were getting in the way. So much jazz, so little time. Actually, not only hasn’t Carnegie ever presented much jazz, it’s not in the business of producing concerts; it leases its hall to producers and institutions for that purpose. One producer remarked last week that he had been asked to mount jazz concerts several years back precisely because, a Carnegie bigwig told him, the hall had been so inimical for so long to African American music. He suspects that the latest slight is nothing more than good old elitist disdain. I’m uncomfortable with the word elitist, which can apply to jazz connoisseurs as well as any other kind, but it would be hard not to conclude that a time-honored prejudice is at work.
Swashbuckler (Erroll Garner)
Authors: Giddins Gary 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
Conversation with a clerk at a megastore, May 2003: “Do you carry a DVD of Erroll Garner?” “Oh, I know that, it’s like, um, adventures of Erroll Garner, right?” “Uh, I don’t think so, I think it’s something like Erroll Garner in concert.” “No, my boyfriend showed it to me. He, like, fights pirates and stuff, right?” “Excuse me?” “What kind of movie is it?” “He’s a jazz musician. It’s a concert film.” “Oh, right. I’m thinking of Errol Flynn.” Actually, it’s called Erroll Garner in Performance, and consists of two 35-minute sets taped in 1964 for the BBC series Jazz 625. In fairness, Garner’s attack does indicate a swashbuckling fortitude, a piratical confidence, an adventurer’s audacity. Still, not long ago—OK, 25 years ago—every record store clerk in the nation knew Erroll from Errol, simply because of the volume of records he moved, as suggested by an earlier teˆte-a`-teˆte. Having first encountered Garner at a 1964 concert in Queens, I had bicycled the next morning to a record store and looked in vain for a Garner bin or, failing that, Garner albums in the miscellaneous G section. I asked an employee, “Is it possible you don’t have a single record by Erroll Garner?”
Ornette and Others (JVC 2003)
Authors: Giddins Gary 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
And it must follow, as the night the day, that whenever JVC is as false to its calling as it was last summer, it will direct its next installment toward the true light. Look it up: The JVC Jazz Festival never scrapes bottom in consecutive years. With the return of Ornette Coleman (imperial), Wayne Shorter (tapped to elation by Savion Glover), and Dee Dee Bridgewater (an incendiary “Fever” for Peggy Lee), Carnegie Hall once again shone with star power, while diverse programming at Kaye Playhouse and inspired bookings at participating clubs added to a sense of citywide satiation. As usual for recent programs, it skewed to one age group—this year, elder statespeople. Boomers, so recently dominant, were in short supply (especially loft grads), and the young were virtually absent. I assume impresario and first-time author George Wein doesn’t do this deliberately; it just happens, like the rainy season and hot spells. JVC got off to a terrifically festive start at Kaye with the kind of nobrainer that almost always works, though not at this level. The recipe is simplicity itself: a couple of beloved veterans as objects of homage, and reliable mainstreamers to combine jam-session zest, pointed anecdote, times a kind of hide-and-seek call-and-response with Danilo Perez, John Patitucci, and Brian Blade. In this mode, the band reminds me of Count Basie rhythm interludes, where instead of a piano solo you get a fourway immersion in timekeeping. With Shorter, the issue is less about rhythm than rests and retaliations—indeed, rhythm was nowhere to be found in the precisely executed, almost Debussyan duet with Hancock.
Midlife Bloom (Dianne Reeves)
Authors: Giddins Gary 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
Of the 70-plus tunes attributed to Thelonious Monk, the ballads occupy a singular plateau, none more so than “Reflections,” which he introduced at a magnificent 1952 Prestige trio session alongside “Trinkle Tinkle,” “Bemsha Swing,” and a riotously swinging “These Foolish Things” that begins with a condign borrowing of Johnny Ray’s “Please Mr. Sun.” Though acclaimed as an evocative melody, “Reflections” failed to attract a lyricist and so never found traction with singers. It is classic, paradoxical Monk, beautiful and memorable yet a minefield of odd intervals, each essential to its bricks-and-mortar structure. It gives the illusion of being readily singable but isn’t. In the 1980s, Jon Hendricks wrote an impressive, poetic lyric for the tune as part of Carmen McRae’s last major project, Carmen Sings Monk. McRae takes it at a medium tempo, cannily interpreting the lyric from the vantage of a worldly lady who has seen it all; she rushes the tag, “Thank God I’m one girl who knows,” as if relieved to have made it safely to journey’s end. She also finesses the tune, gliding over some of the knottier intervals. Well, that’s what jazz singers do, and when they embellish a pop song and make it better, we cheer. But like Ellington’s trickier melodies, “Reflections” ought to be sung as written.
Desperate Passage
Authors: Rarick Ethan 
Published: November 2023

Abstract
In late October 1846, the last wagon train of that year's westward migration stopped overnight before resuming its arduous climb over the Sierra Nevada Mountains, unaware that a fearsome storm was gathering force. After months of grueling travel, the 81 men, women and children would be trapped for a brutal winter with little food and only primitive shelter. The conclusion is known: by spring of the next year, the Donner Party was synonymous with the most harrowing extremes of human survival. But until now, the full story of what happened, what it tells us about human nature and about America's westward expansion, remained shrouded in myth. Drawing on fresh archaeological evidence, recent research on topics ranging from survival rates to snowfall totals, and heartbreaking letters and diaries made public by descendants a century-and-a-half after the tragedy, Ethan Rarick offers an intimate portrait of the Donner party and their unimaginable ordeal: a mother who must divide her family, a little girl who shines with courage, a devoted wife who refuses to abandon her husband, a man who risks his life merely to keep his word. But Rarick resists both the gruesomely sensationalist accounts of the Donner party as well as later attempts to turn the survivors into archetypal pioneer heroes. "The Donner Party," Rarick writes, "is a story of hard decisions that were neither heroic nor villainous. Often, the emigrants displayed a more realistic and typically human mixture of generosity and selfishness, an alloy born of necessity." A fast-paced, heart-wrenching, clear-eyed narrative history, A Desperate Hope casts new light on one of America's most horrific encounters between the dream of a better life and the harsh realities such dreams so often must confront.