I owe you an explanation

... As to why I haven't been posting in a while. It has to do with holidays (mental more than actual, I've been physically out of town for just a handful of days), with the resetting of my priorities (I've started working on a new project - yes, a jazz project, yes I will write more about it - and those hours I once spent entertaining my 33 readers will have to be sprinkled on more that one potatoe field) and last but not least, with my latest posting on these frequencies.

Let's put it this way: I've found myself in a Crossfire situation, CNN style, issue at stake - again, and again, and again - the validation of jazz criticism in absence of proper musical education and hands-on experience. I've been bashed, bruised and battered by Mr Seas, who had a point ("should I stand up and clap my hands at any sorry attempt to play jazz just because some jazz historian says we need all the aficionados we can get in the face of a lack of recognition/attention?"), I've been seriously challenged by legendary journalist-author HB's talk at the local Jazz museum, an equally convincing discussion of how nepotism and purism affect healthy ideological confrontation, business and overall artistic progress.

I've also had a heart-to-heart with a well known lady of jazz, a big band leader and award-winning composer, who talked at length and sans pruderie about life - death - and love in the world of notes, she-style.

Too much to say, I guess, hence the hiatus.

No more.

In the wake of the tragedy descended on Jazz's Horn of Africa - New Orleans, the Big Bang (and Band) that originated all that swings, bops and thirdstreams - I had to contribute a line (a second, first, third and all that will be).

I feel ashamed for my colleagues who endorse and enable strategies of de-ce-ption, in order to divert attention from the lack of a prompt and effective intervention in the area; I feel ashamed for people who don't understand the simple truth Mr. Moody learnt the hard way - and Yum Yum so beautifully explained in her blog - that is, Neworleanians are blues people, resilient people, and their resiliance is a baby with a name whe may not like or understand (acts of defence and protest and survival and release, yes, violent acts too) yet a baby indeed, in essence the germ of a NEW LIFE. What "The City that care forgot" (my god, the irony now of that historic nickname!) will soon find. In itself.

She is NOT a Thirld World City. She is a whore and a lady and a beggar and the Chief of all Humanitarian organizations. All in one. And we all love her very much, probably, hopefully because in her we recognize ourselves.

Please, help if you can. My lovely, dearest, hot friend Pookalu has a list of links and initiatives for those who would like to but don't know how. I, the ever dumb blogger, have yet to discover the art of posting links. You'll have to kindly copy and paste on your toolbar her url: malamorian.blogspot.com.

For those who felt like and already did, just think happy thoughts - ah, Peter Pan, master of escapism from harsh realities - and summon happy images of New Orleans. I'll provide visual aid, posting some of my pics from last May's Jazz Fest.

For everybody, remember RV's shout, topping off the majesty of WM's Majesty of the blues: CRESCENT CITEEEEEEEEY !!!

Stay on higher ground. (And buy a ticket to Jazz at Lincoln center's Higher ground benefit concert).