A personal, curatorial & bilingual Blog about: Artistic Movements, my Art, Creativity, Innovation, Design, Leadership, Empowerment, Sustainability, Science, Jazz, Movies and other cool pursuits - Blog personal y curatorial bilingüe sobre: Movimentos Artísticos, mi Arte, Creatividad, Innovación, Diseño, Liderazgo, Empoderamiento, Sustentabilidad, Ciencia, Jazz, Películas y otros temas.
Then you have come to the right place, because this Sunday Concert is dedicated to Cannonball Adderley and his famous album from 1958, “Somethin´ Else”.
Cannonball Adderley gave up his own band in 1957 on the hope, and later realization, that he was going to be a part of Jazz history when Miles Davis asked him to become sideman in Davis’ epic ensemble with John Coltrane, and eventually Bill Evans.
The result? Some “forgettable” works like Milestones and Kind of Blue..
Miles Davis returned the favor and in March of 1958, he appeared on Adderley´s Blue Note Album “Somethin´ Else”, appearing as his sideman in an all star quintet session date.
Miles, Cannonball and Trane recording Kind of Blue
The result is a cool, sometimes laid-back, sometimes rhythmic, sometimes groovy and boppish, but all together, a glorious album that more than 50 years later we can enjoy on a slow Sunday.
So here it is, “Somethin´Else” with the Cannonball Adderley Quintet featuring Miles Davis.
Fue en un momento difícil sin vueltas ni contratiempos que no fueran los contratiempos que nos llevaron a donde estábamos. Ese lugar desde donde era muy difícil salir más allá de nuestras buenas intenciones y de nuestra sensación constante de tener algo más para hacer con nuestras vidas que no fuese esto. -“Esto”- repetía la negra, – “Esto”- repetíamos los demás.
No había energía ni para buscar sinónimos ni para sonar más creativos o intelectuales de lo que éramos y lo que éramos era muy pobre comparado a lo que queríamos ser. -“Y si vamos a ver al topo que siempre tiene algo interesante para contar y entre tanto cuento que es en parte mentira en parte exageración y en parte verdades a medias tal vez se nos ocurra algo nuevo para hacer”- dije yo sin mucha convicción.
La verdad es que cualquier cosa era mejor que “esto” y con tal de irnos de acá y terminar en otro lado todo parecía ser mejor. Las vueltas de la vida nos había juntado como las migas de un mantel cuando viene el mozo con la palita y junta la miga de pan con el pedazo de milanesa con el papelito del edulcorante con una uña mordida y un par de pelos largos que pueden ser nuestros o de lo que estuvieron antes o del mismo mozo. Lo que nos unía no era amor, ni compasión, ni amistad ni nada que se le pareciera sino que lo que nos unía era el empujón que nos habían dado a todos para sacarnos de ahí y ponernos a todos juntos acá. Como las migas del mantel.
Finding my way back to you (detail) by IAB
No me pregunten por qué pero todos dijeron vamos a lo del topo y la negra arrancó primero conmigo atrás y claro atrás mío el vivo de Juancho que decía en voz baja -“vos siempre por atrás de la negra”-.
Confieso que me importaba todo poco. La negra era la negra pero no tenía nada de negra. Era peliroja cortita segura de sí misma e insegura de todos nosotros y por eso siempre tenía una copa de algo cerca ya que como no podía borronearnos a nosotros de su realidad se borroneaba ella. Y ahí estábamos, todos en camino a lo del topo.
Jack era el último de la fila india que formábamos indivisibles bajo el sol tajante y sonante de las 3 de la tarde en pleno verano de 35 grados y 80 de humedad y baldosas flojas y asfalto humeante y poca gente en la calle o mejor dicho nadie en la calle solo nosotros que con tal de salir de “esto” íbamos camino a lo del topo, aunque yo que era el que lo había propuesto ya me estaba arrepintiendo.
Jack tenía esas cosas tan típicas de los yanquis que los hacen simpáticos e incomprensibles a la vez como cuando están muertos por una minita como la negra y solo se atreven a traerles una cerveza y mirarlas fijo sin pestañear y escucharla con cara de tarado y una timidez espantosa y al mismo tiempo era el primero en falopearse como un cerdo dormir hasta cualquier hora sin bañarse por días y cantar a viva voz con un micrófono en mano en uno de esos barsuchos llenos de viejas que bailan y se quieren voltear pendejos que cantan con un micrófono en mano, eso sí después de estudiarlos a media luz en compañía de una ginebra como si eso fuese estudiar.
Dimos vuelta a la esquina y ya estábamos tocándole el timbre al topo que seguramente estaba durmiendo desde anoche y soñando con alguna de sus fabulaciones persecutorias que por lo general involucran canas, políticos, marcianitos verdes y algún animal que al final de la historia le habla y le dice algo profundo como… -”lo importante es crecer y no durar”-. –“Bajá!”- le gritaba la negra en el portero y solo se escuchaban la tos con algún insulto al aire y preguntas como quienes son ustedes para venir a joderme en el medio de un día así cuando nadie los llamo y quién dijo que yo los quiero ver ni escuchar por acá.
Todo seguido del -“Bueno suban pero no jodan demasiado”- y entonces ya sin ganas pero lejos de “eso” subimos….
“Reminiscencias de Kerouak” es un humilde homenaje al novelista. Escrito por mi como lo hacía él. Al vuelo, sin parar y en poco tiempo, respetando los sentidos y las cadencias, pero muy poco la puntuación formal. Pretende simplemente expresar mi admiración y ejemplificar un estilo único.
Espero que les haya gustado.
Jack Kerouak
Para los que no lo conocen, Kerouak es considerado el escritor más importante de la Generación Beat con varios de sus libros convertidos en lectura obligatoria para quienes desean comprender más esa época del siglo XX. Tanto “En el camino”, como “Los Vagabundos del Dharma” o “Los Subterráneos” se han convertido en novelas de culto para muchas generaciones.
El estilo de Kerouac se puede comparar con una improvisación del Jazz y particularmente del Bop, estilo que korouak amaba. En sus escritos hay repentización, creatividad y una aparente anarquía que está siempre a punto de perder al lector y que, sin embargo, termina atrapándolo como una compleja red.
El estilo de Kerouak no sigue reglas estables ni definidas, y se asemeja tal vez más a la conversación entre dos amigos algo pasados de alcohol, muy entrada la noche. Son siempre historias de “caminos”, de gente algo nómade, avanzando siempre hacia algún lado, complejas y absurdas a veces, pero festejando sin respiro todo lo grandioso de lo simplemente cotidiano.
This is the first of my Sunday Articles dedicated to a Jazz Legend.
This Sunday, the first of the series, it is dedicated to a Bebop Legend: Mr Benny Golson.
Born on January 25th, 1929 (he is now age 87), Golson is a much loved (and many times forgotten by younger generations) hero of one of the most important eras of modern Jazz.
He was part of a bunch of musicians from Philadelphia who would in time change the way we saw Jazz. As a young kid he used to play with other promising musicians, people like the young John Coltrane, Red Garland, Jimmy Heath, Percy Heath, Philly Joe Jones, and Red Rodney (nice school friends to have if you ask me!).
After several bands straight out of college, he joined the “big leagues”, playing from 53 until 59 with Tadd Dameron, Lionel Hampton, Johnny Hodges, Earl Bostic, Dizzy Gillespie, and Art Blakey, with whom he recorded the classic Moanin’ in 1958.
In 1995 Golson received the NEA Jazz Masters Award of the National Endowment for the Arts. In October 2007 Golson accepted the Mellon Living Legend Legacy Award presented by the Mid Atlantic Arts Foundation at a ceremony at the Kennedy Center. Furthermore, during the same month, he won the University of Pittsburgh International Academy of Jazz Outstanding Lifetime Achievement Award at the university’s 37th Annual Jazz Concert in the Carnegie Music Hall. In November 2009, Benny was inducted into the International Academy of Jazz Hall of Fame during a performance at the University of Pittsburgh’s annual jazz seminar and concert.
So, after reviewing this “young man´s” incredible credentials, how about if we just get to it!
Here is the first of our Sunday Jazz concerts.
I invite you to simply enjoy the glorious music of Mr. Benny Golson.
Ganador de 9 Grammy Awards y considerado una de los músicos más influyentes del Siglo XX, Miles Dewey Davis III (más conocido como Miles Davis, o simplemente “Miles”) continúa aún hoy, décadas después de su muerte, ejerciendo su influencia en ámbitos propios y ajenos.
Desde médicos investigadores de la Universidad John Hopkins, a diseñadores de la D-School de la Universidad de Stanford, la música de Davis, y su trabajo en cuartetos y quintetos basados en una alta dosis de brillante inspiración y, por sobre todas las cosas, de perfecta improvisación, genera estudios y teorías sobre las neurociencias y su aplicación en áreas creativas.
Como artista plástico, la música de Miles me ha acompañado desde los 12 años, edad en que descubrí sus dotes casi “mágicos”. Durante muchos años ignoraba que una parte de mis dones creativos se debían a una sinestesia aplicada a mi obra. Mi ignorancia temporal, igualmente marcada por una certeza creativa, le dieron entonces al Jazz, y particularmente a Davis y sus contemporáneos como Evans, Coltrane, Monk, Hawkins, Jamal, Brubeck, Basie, Roach, y Clark (solo por nombrar a algunos) una faceta inspiradora y un poder milagroso sobre mi arte.
Sobre los hombros de estos genios musicales yo sentía que mis propias creaciones se alzaban hacia alturas insospechadas. Con el tiempo supe que mi interpretación sinestésica le daba una explicación más “terrenal” a mi característico uso pictórico de movimientos, ritmos, cadencias, y explosiones tonales. Pero el tiempo también me dio la razón sobre el aspecto inspirador de la música de Davis y su influencia sobre quienes la escuchamos con amor y admiración.
Hoy en día el ojo de las ciencias está puesto sobre las creaciones de estos genios de la música que lograron utilizar sus poderes y procesos creativos de una manera poco vista hasta entonces. Su obra nos enseña, tal vez particularmente hoy en día que estamos finalmente comprendiendo el funcionamiento de nuestros cerebros de manera más concreta, que nuestras capacidades pueden ser entrenadas para improvisar grupalmente, para trabajar en equipo de manera ordenada, fluida, y natural. Y esos procesos pueden tener, a la vez, la intimidad sensorial así como la explosión grupal de un tema de Davis.
Mi obra hoy sigue volando sobre las alas de estos genios creativos. Mi “Visual Jazz”, como lo bautizara una periodista norteamericana, sigue plasmando sobre lienzos, maderas, objetos y estructuras las cadencias y los ritmos de un estilo de Jazz que me continúa guiando y exigiendo, y por ello agradezco cada día. Un Jazz que, a la vez, ha pasado a convertirse en uno de los legados culturales más importantes que nos ha dejado el Siglo XX.
Y sobre todo, sigo agradeciendo al único y genial Miles, por haberse atrevido a mostrarnos el camino desde siempre.
“Blue in Green” is the third tune on Miles Davis’ 1959 album, Kind of Blue. One of two ballads on the LP. (the other being “Flamenco Sketches“).
As an aside here (and something that may earn you points in one of those “did you know?” kind of games), it has been said that the second ballad which appears on the record as “Flamenco Sketches” is in fact the song “All Blues” and vice versa. Yes, the argument is that somebody may have switched them by mistake and that they only realized it when the records were already printed and so were the covers, and as a result one simply became the other.
At the very least this is what Jeremy Yudkin argues (also as an aside point) in his scholarly article Miles Davis Kind of Blue, which you can read on the Oxford University Press Music Quarterly Journal. He correctly points out that “Flamenco Sketches” fits more logically with the strumming mid-tempo of the song which appears as “All Blues”, while the title “All Blues” fits much better with the last, very slow song that is known as “Flamenco Sketches” (If you ask me, the easiest thing would be to simply check the original copyright registry of both scores…but no one is asking me…I know).
In any case, the spirit behind “That other day” is a little bit more complex, and less romantic, than “That Day”.
One of the most beautiful songs in that masterpiece album is “Blue in Green“, with its mainly modal melody. Recorded on March 2nd, 1959, in New York City, and in the same session where “So what” – another classic – was also recorded, it was the result of combining the talents of some of the best musicians of its time: Julian “Cannonball” Adderley, Miles Davis, Jimmy Cobb, Bill Evans on piano, and Paul Chambers on bass.
Even though the song appeared in the original record as written by Davis, it has long been speculated that pianist Bill Evans had, at the very least, a hand in it (the credits for the Evan´s trio Album “Portrait in Jazz”, in which there is a version of “Blue in Green”, attribute the song to ´Davis-Evans´)
Some go as far as to say that Evans actually wrote it. This is the case of producer Earl Zindar, whom in the Fall 1993 issue of a magazine called Letter from Evans , said that he knew perfectly well that Evans had actually penned it himself. He said “I know that it is [100-percent Bill (Evan)’s] because he wrote it over at my pad where I was staying in East Harlem, 5th floor walkup, and he stayed until 3 o’clock in the morning playing these six bars over and over.”
On the opposite side of the street we find Miles Davis asserting, in his autobiography, that he alone composed all the songs on Kind of Blue. Confirming this is the writer and poet Quincy Troupe, co-author of one of the best know Davis biographies -, who said in an interview and in regards to this issue:
“Miles talked about being back in Arkansas, and he was walking home from church. And the people in the backwoods were playing these really bad, really great gospels. He couldn’t see the people but he heard these gospels coming in through the trees and over the trees. And it was dark and he was about six years old, and he was walking with his cousin. So he said that gospel, and that music, and also he had been listening to the music from the Guinean Ballet, the finger piano, so all of that fused and came back to him with this feeling that he heard playing when he was walking through the back roads of Arkansas.
And he started remembering what that music sounded like and felt like. He said that feeling was what I was trying to get close to in Kind of Blue. That feeling had got in my creative blood, my imagination, and I had forgotten it was there. I wrote these blues to try to get back to that feeling I had when I was six years old, walking with my cousin down that dark, Arkansas road.”
The end result is that, sadly, we will never know the whole truth. Over the last 20 years the song appears mostly now as a “Davis-Evans” composition. It is sometimes difficult to know what goes on in the mind of brilliantly creative people to get stuck, at one point, over something like this and never settle the issue. I guess, it is that exception that everyone talks about when reaffirming a certain opposite rule.
The issue became so heated between both musicians that Zindar himself, in another interview conducted by Win Hinkle, recalled the 1978 Evans NPR interview in which he asserts his authorship of the song, and recalls –with certain humor and disdain – writing to Miles with the suggestion that he should be entitled to a percentage of royalties, to which Miles apparently responded with an envelope that had a check for twenty-five dollars in it.
I am no musician, but I can distinctly see Evans hand in this. Miles was also a wizard, so doubts persist. I guess the best way to go about it is to just enjoy their brilliance and accept that for once, these two geniuses showed their flaws and pettiness for all of us to see. An exceptional blemish for two men who had dazzling musical careers that no one can refute or argue with.
Here is my pictorial version of “That Other Day”. That nonetheless beautiful day – the music still moves us the same way it did before – but it is also the day in which these two egos collided. More complex than the original painting, but maintaining its spirit and stressing the superposed opinions of Bill and Miles.
It was a rainy morning that had turned into a lovely afternoon. You know the sort of day I mean. Wet streets that reflect the sunlight with enriched tones, trees with rain water droplets hanging from every leave. The air, cleared by nature and perfumed by the ozone coming from the warm wet grass of the park next door, while the cleansing wind felt slightly cooler from caressing the surface of all the wet buildings that surrounded us.
THAT DAY (2014) – detail – by Ignacio Alperin
As usual, I was painting and listening to some jazz.
It was Kind of Blue, in vinyl, playing this time on an old record player rather than my usual garb. A gift from my late dear aunt Frances whom, after passing away, had left for me to enjoy.
I remember sill that at first I could not get it to work. It was a portable Phillips record player in bright red which packs like a little suitcase. Very cute, very shiny, and very silent.
I thought to myself, “Where will I be able to find someone to fix this?”
THAT DAY – Detail
It was, after all, more than 40 years old. So I gave it a try myself. As it happens, and as I fiddled with it for a while, I realized that it didn´t work simply because it had never been plugged in since purchased. It was brand new, seals untouched, warranty still in the box. Simply the contacts had rusted over the years from inaction.
A bit of cleaning and suddenly, I was off and running. The slightly tinny sound of the small speakers did not bother me. I had my huge Yamahas for everything else. This was the right sound for special moments.
And this was one of those special moments. As artists, we all – consciously or not – try to achieve some kind of immortality. Or at the very least, surpass our own life time by leaving behind something that may allow us to achieve a kind of “longevity” of sorts through our artistic works.
I envy – in a manner that is more healthy admiration – the fact that movie actors and musicians through image and sound can achieve this much more easily than us.
To me, listening to any of these recordings is like being in my house one moment, then I turn Kind of Blue on, and next thing I know, I am pushed into some type of time travelling gizmo. All of a sudden I am in 1959, standing in a corner of a studio while these guys, most of them long gone in 2016, come suddenly to life.
They look at each other, some smile, others concentrate while puffing smoke, others chew gum and read their music. Suddenly the voice behind the glass taps and says “Take one!”, and off they go. As I listen they are alive, they are immortal, they are playing “live” for me once again and they are great at it.
It is that very personal, very emotional connection, the one I use in my painting. It is a combination of admiration, melancholy, and happiness. My synesthesia helps along the way, and it all translates into colors and shapes, and hopefully feelings transmitted at a distance.
So I was painting and I thought to myself “This day” is “That day”. The wet trees, the sun coming through, Miles´ trumpet pushing the clouds, Evans keyboard giving a soundtrack to the wind, Cannonball and Coltrane caressing the grass, Chambers putting rhythm to the bounce of every rain drop, and Cobb simply reminding us of the summer storm that was quickly receding in the background.
And here is “That Day”.
The result of that beautiful rainy morning, and sunny afternoon, in which a great “live” band and myself just spent the time painting together.
THAT DAY (2014) by Ignacio Alperin 60cm x 80cm Acrylic, oil based paints and sprays, and inks on canvas
I know I am going to get myself in trouble for writing this.
Furthermore, I am probably going to get a lot of mails from artists who have come to my “Flash, Crash, Boom, Creative afternoon” lectures.
I like talking about the importance, for an artist – any artist – of being conscious of the significance of the “mythological” aspect of his or her story. I have always argued that the “selling point “ is as much the artist as the art.
Let´s take van Gogh as an example.
A painting he may have given in exchange for rent (100 bucks worth perhaps) has remained intact. It is always the same painting. It hasn´t gotten better with time. It is not wine – it isn´t that it has “aged well” -. It has not acquired flavors, or details in this case, which were not there before.
What has changed in our appreciation of the artist. It is van Gogh himself who has aged well. We have come to appreciate his story, his ways, his dramas, and his techniques better with time. And as a result, everything he has done has become something else. Each one of his paintings have become “a van Gogh”. His “mythology” has overpassed the painter and the flawed human being. And that is where the difference rests.
I always make the point of qualifying this view by pointing out that, by mythology, I do not mean becoming, or asking to be treated, like a “god” –although many colleagues do fall into this trap- , and neither do I mean that you should lie about your history.
It has to do with, simply put, being consciously aware that an artist´s story
This “may be” Banksy – who has built his own mythology by being secretive to the point of not ever showing his face –
is as much part of the process behind the growth in value of an artist work, as is the quality of work produced. People, more often than not, “buy” – engage, become interested, admire, or simply like – the artist first, and then they become interested in the art to the point of deciding to make a purchase (particularly when the price of a painting is above impulse purchase price).
This is so normal, that when in a newspaper we read that a famous painting is sold at a record price, for example, it is generally the case that the title usually implies that it is the artist who has been sold, while in the follow through we learn about the painting, sculpture or whatever it is really behind the news.
We “buy” Picasso, Van Gogh, Rauschenberg or Pollock. And we get – assuming we had the money – whatever painting is available at the time. The reason is twofold. On the one hand we understand there are market forces behind all these sales, as we are talking about investment grade painters and paintings after all. So whatever is available must be worth our while.
And secondly, we are talking about paintings that resist, endure, and grow in appreciation during a long period of time. And these facts usually have a common thread. In fact, each one of these works represent, in pictorial terms, an intricate part of the artist´s life.
We are talking, then, about art that is a visible section of an artist´s passion. And that is also central to this equation. We are buying a piece of an artist´s identity, a piece of his artistic soul. Or at least that which will endure the passage of time. No matter what embelishments the artist may have made to his own story, what survive are the vestiges of his true self.
This is all very personal stuff. We are talking about an artist´s spirit, his or her heart, and in the case of those already gone, the legacy of work that is left behind and provides the artists with that desired immortality of sorts.
Yet many artists, in their desire to get to that special plateau, become mere caricatures of themselves. They make up stories, take on looks that are more for the benefit of others than a symbol of whom they are, and fictionalize their lives to the point of becoming like characters in a pantomime.
They confuse “a personality” with “personality”, they make-up a stereotype of an artist rather than being true to their history and letting others judge and decide. They feed us with fiction, while true art is as real as it gets.
True art is about a naked person being shown and exposed; it is a soul being revealed; it is a heart discovered in its most intimate detail.
Salvador Dali
Many have “put on an act”. Dali was brilliant at this. But the key word here is “brilliant”. He built an engaging public persona around his personal quirkiness. And all of this pointed towards two ends. On the one hand his renowned love of money, and secondly it was probably his way of exorcising his own childhood demons.
Did we see the real Dali in action? Probably not, but was it a fake personality or was it based on his very real and eccentric nature and life history.
This was the second son of a family who had lost their first child, also named Salvador, only nine months earlier. He looked so much like his dead brother that his mother suspected that he was actually their previous dead child reborn, and it is believed to have acted accordingly. On top of that, and from all accounts, he was quite the sadist as a child. Even to the point of considering that pleasure and pain were pretty much the same mechanism. He used to attack people for no apparent reason, and it is said that he even threw a dear friend off a bridge “just because” (his friend was badly hurt as a result).
So, was he putting on an act or was the act an embellishment – a mythology of sorts– of his own life story and personality? You can decide if there is a difference between this and the fictional character. But keeping in mind Dali´s story, is then the fictional character many artists envelop themselves with, something wrong?
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Some will argue that, whether truth, embellishment, or pure fiction, in all cases this is just marketing. And if as such it increases your sales, it is ok. And it may well be so. But the fact remains, and my experience corroborates this assumption, that many artists do end up believing they are this phony façade. They end up playing out the character in their real lives, and to a certain level, they end up getting lost in their own concoction.
So what is the point then?
Very simply: Whatever you do, be true to yourself, or at the very least, try your utmost to keep true to yourself. You are an artist. You are someone whom, by definition, will follow what your heart dictates. And that does not mean you cannot work on your own mythology. If you think about it, your life –any life for that matter – is rich and therefore plentiful in “workable material”.
Your beginnings, your family, your place of birth, your life experience, your ideological bents, your personal attributes and your personal agonies. They all have contributed to your present YOU. Your life is the source of your own mythology, and it is also the fountain from which your artistic endeavors spout.
It needs to be put into an attractive order. It needs to become your life story almost in cinematographic terms. It needs that attractiveness that makes your story something to be consumed, in the good sense, like a good novel. In short, it needs to become a story that people can engage to and become close to, and by doing so, they will begin to know you, and will become closer to you and your art.
There is an old saying in marketing about not falling on the trap of basing your decisions on your own marketing. One thing is what you sell, which necessarily enhances your virtues in detriment of your weaknesses. Something else is believing in your own “enhancements”.
Falling into the trap of that “fictitious character” is part of the learning process. I see many who do fall and never get out of that hole. In the short term it may be fine and it may potentially be profitable as well. But in most cases it will not last. And what is worst, it will take you astray from your true self, which is in the end, where your art is coming from.
This is the first of my Sunday Articles dedicated to a Jazz Legend.
In 1995 Golson received the NEA Jazz Masters Award of the National Endowment for the Arts. In October 2007 Golson accepted the Mellon Living Legend Legacy Award presented by the Mid Atlantic Arts Foundation at a ceremony at the Kennedy Center. Furthermore, during the same month, he won the University of Pittsburgh International Academy of Jazz Outstanding Lifetime Achievement Award at the university’s 37th Annual Jazz Concert in the Carnegie Music Hall. In November 2009, Benny was inducted into the International Academy of Jazz Hall of Fame during a performance at the University of Pittsburgh’s annual jazz seminar and concert.
Ganador de 9 Grammy Awards y considerado una de los músicos más influyentes del Siglo XX, Miles Dewey Davis III (más conocido como Miles Davis, o simplemente “Miles”) continúa aún hoy, décadas después de su muerte, ejerciendo su influencia en ámbitos propios y ajenos.
que descubrí sus dotes casi “mágicos”. Durante muchos años ignoraba que una parte de mis dones creativos se debían a una sinestesia aplicada a mi obra. Mi ignorancia temporal, igualmente marcada por una certeza creativa, le dieron entonces al Jazz, y particularmente a Davis y sus contemporáneos como Evans, Coltrane, Monk, Hawkins, Jamal, Brubeck, Basie, Roach, y Clark (solo por nombrar a algunos) una faceta inspiradora y un poder milagroso sobre mi arte.
On the opposite side of the street we find Miles Davis asserting, in his autobiography, that he alone composed all the songs on Kind of Blue. Confirming this is the writer and poet Quincy Troupe, co-author of one of the best know Davis biographies -, who said in an interview and in regards to this issue:
story almost in cinematographic terms. It needs that attractiveness that makes your story something to be consumed, in the good sense, like a good novel. In short, it needs to become a story that people can engage to and become close to, and by doing so, they will begin to know you, and will become closer to you and your art.
IGNACIO ALPERIN: THE ART OF THINKING OUT LOUD / EL ARTE DE PENSAR EN VOZ ALTA 