Last Saturday, Nicole and I decided to head for the movies. If there are no concerts around, movies are the next best thing.
​
We had seen the movie posters hanging in the theatres when we went to see "A Star is Born" a week ago and I knew I wanted to go see this, especially with Nicole.

"Bohemian Rhapsody "was the movie. It was better than a simple bio-pic, it was about the band Queen and their approach to making music—incredible music. It was about the flamboyant Freddie Mercury (born Farrokh Bulsara) and the three brilliant musicians who joined him to make one of the most entertaining bands ever. EVER.

The movie begins with the wide-toothed Freddie approaching guitarist Brian May and drummer Roger Taylor about him becoming their new lead singer. Taylor laughed at him and said, “Not with those teeth, mate!” Freddie had been mocked and bullied about his teeth since childhood and he almost walked away. He turned on his heel to face the two again and belted out a glorious rendition of the song that their band had been playing only moments before.

Freddie took control and said, “I have four additional incisors. Makes my mouth wider and gives me better range. I’ll let you know my answer.”

I loved Freddie Mercury. I remember the first time I heard him. It was 1973 and I heard "Keep Yourself Alive" on the radio on WSHE in Ft. Lauderdale. I loved the Brian May’s squeaky guitar, John Deacon’s thundering Fender bass, and Roger Taylor’s powerful drumming. I was hooked from the first.

Then came "Killer Queen" from the album "Sheer Heart Attack." By this time, the production had gotten so much cleaner and it only made Freddie’s voice soar even more. Then in November of 1975, Queen released "A Night at the Opera." I was taken with the title because it was the title of a Marx Brothers movie and I loved the Marx Brothers. But this album was remarkable.

It rendered such hits as the operatic "Bohemian Rhapsody", the ridiculous "I’m in Love with My Car" and the 1920s-sounding "Lazing on A Sunday Afternoon."

I played that album over an over and (yes) over again. Ask my cousin Linda. She recently told me that she has only been able to listen to Queen, especially that album, again in the last five years. She was subjected to constant play of that album (on 8-track!) in a car trip from Florida to Detroit. All Queen, all the time.

But the greatest song on the album, for me, was "Love of My Life." It was one of the most poignant moments of the whole movie when Queen were performing in Rio de Janeiro and Freddie stopped singing and the entire audience was singing the song.

Rami Malek charmingly portrayed Freddie Mercury and he was wonderful. He had the mannerisms and the vocal patterns down-pat. The actors who played May, Taylor and Deacon looked just like the real guys, especially Gwilym Lee who played Brian May.

May and Taylor were the executive producers of the movie, so it gave the authentic nod to the honesty of the movie. The critics have hated the movie and that made my sister and I even more interested in seeing it. Critics have always hated Queen.

In one ironic twist in the movie, when the song Bohemian Rhapsody was released, the screen was filled with all the noise issued by the music critics. Rolling Stone magazine called Bohemian Rhapsody “brazen hodgepodge.” Later, of course, they would list it as one of the 500 Greatest Rock songs ever. The New York Times called them “pretentious and irrelevant.”

It was a laugh-out-loud moment to see all those words splashed across the screen and to realize that, here we are, calling each band member by name and I don’t even know the names of the critics.

While Bohemian Rhapsody is the title of the movie and indeed their most popular hit single, the real theme of the movie is wrapped up in Love of My Life. That song was about Mary Austin whom Freddie adored.

Mary was the love of Freddie’s life. Even when Freddie discovered he was gay, he didn’t want to leave Mary. He bought her a home right next to his after they had separated. He would still flick the lamp on and off to say goodnight to her.
He sang:
"Who will remember
When this is blown over
And everything's all by the way
When I grow older
I will be there at your side to remind you
How I still love you - (I still love you)"

Poor Freddie. When Mary left, he was rudderless. Wonton and clinging people attached themselves to Freddie’s fame and fortune. It hurt his friendship with the band itself, tearing them apart.
Then came Live Aid, the greatest concert ever. Queen performed at the last minute and absolutely stole the show.

Despite the fact that Freddie discovered that he had contracted AIDS. In 1985, there was nothing that could be done. In the end, however, Freddie had made amends with everyone. He had made an opera album with Montserrat Caballé, the great Spanish opera star. It was wonderful.

What the movie does not show, however, was that Mary never really left Freddie alone. She stayed with him even in the last years as he was slowly dying. But he wouldn’t allow tears around him and she once had to excuse herself when they were watching a recorded concert of Queen. Freddie said, “I used to be handsome.” It caught Mary by surprise and she had to leave the room tom compose herself.

After his death in 1991, Freddie was showered with honors from the UK and abroad. He loved playing in Queen, “a band of misfits who don’t belong anywhere but together.” But his greatest honor, he said, was the have been loved by Mary Austin. I understand what he meant.

The soundtrack for the movie reached #1 a few days ago—Queen’s first #1 album in over 30 years.

Nicole and I saw the movie six days ago. It still hasn’t left me.


   ~Travis Rogers, Jr. is The Jazz Owl

   I first heard Gil Defay on Jeremy Warren’s fine album I Can Do All Things. On that album, Gil played with blistering beauty, powerful punctuation, and was constantly cool and always appropriate. With Gil in that excellent venture were Joel Desroches on piano and Parker McAllister on bass and he has brought them into the present recording.
   Thank God he did. The artistic camaraderie evidenced then is even more pronounced now. Add to that fine mix Gil’s brother, Ansy Defay, on tenor and soprano saxes, Matthew Smythe on organs, Ben Nicolas on drums, Bendji Allonce on percussion, and Antonio Peñalva on guitar. Now we got the makin’s.
   To say that Gil and the guys are incredible musicians is obvious. From the fun run of D. Bros Groove to the tight cohesion and sweet lyricism of Le Cri, the artistry of each musician in on full display. Ben Nicolas is absolutely enthralling with his drumming. Joel Desroches and Parker McAllister are simply splendid together and hearing te Defay brothers in tandem is a joy everyone should experience.
   But there is something about Gil that draws you out. There is a sweetness to the man, a spirituality that reaches deep, if you’re willing to let it. When you get to the third track, What a Friend, everything becomes clear. It is a crystal clear expansion on the old church hymn What a Friend (We Have in Jesus).
   Ah, so there it is. The sweetness of Gil Defay is the sweetness of something else passing through him but conforming Gil to that other image. And each one of the artists make a beautiful contribution to that hymn and confirm what Art Blakey said, “Where Jazz is played is a sacred place.”
   Sacred. That is the word. Are the remaining pieces religious? Not at all. Are they even spiritual? Not really. But they are sacred. Purified by love and devotion, there is a feeling of transcendence in the album.
   From the warm devotion of You’re So Good to the smoking blues of D Bros Blues and Parker McAllister’s thunderous bass lines to the cool delivery of The Lean, Gil plays, arranges, produces, and directs this album to brilliance.
   Wonderful and On That NYC are proof enough of all that. Gil and his guys can swing, smoke, chill, and choke the tones, rhythms, harmonies, and grooves from each piece, mining every morsel of beauty and emotion. And just when you think you’ve heard it all…
   The album closes with Epistrophication, the coolest reworking of Thelonious Monk you could ever hope to hear. Appropriately, the keys lead off the piece with guest Toku Jazz joining in on vocals until he joins Gil on flugelhorn. This just may be Gil at his finest but, with an album as rich and cool as this one, it is certainly hard to tell.
   There is a reason the album is called It’s All Love.


      ~Travis Rogers, Jr. is ​The Jazz Owl

   It was something that I have waited to see for  45 years. Having lived in some of America’s larger cities, I always thought for sure that I would be able to catch them in concert. Now, living in rural Wisconsin, I was able to catch the final concert of the US tour for that great jazz rock band Soft Machine.
   They were called psychedelic rock, avant-rock, progressive rock, and jazz-fusion, but they always seemed to exceed the boundaries set for them by critics and fans. They had shared the stage with the Jimi Hendrix Experience and with Syd Barrett’s incarnation of Pink Floyd. They moved in the same orbits as King Crimson and Yes. But not quite any of them.
   When I was describing the band’s sound to Nicole, I said, “Think of King Crimson but not exactly that, either.”
   Finally, I was going to see the band whose albums and (now) CDs had loaded my shelves and record cases for decades. Better still, I was going to see them with Nicole. She makes even the best things better.
   I’d become well-acquainted with the owner, promoter, manager of MoonJune records, Leonardo Pavkovic. It was he told me that Soft Machine was going to be in concert at the Turf Club in St. Paul, Minnesota. Ah, the Turf Club. It’s called “The best remnant of the 40s.” Onstage, lead guitarist John Etheridge would that he was the best remnant of the 40s.
   Leonardo and I had tried to meet face-to-face a couple of years ago when he was promoting the band, Stick Men. Just before that concert, I took ill and had to miss the show and to finally meet Leonardo. This time was going to be different.
   Leonardo is an incredible man. Born in Bosnia in 1962, he studied literature and is himself a poet. He has actually published two volumes of original poetry. But the guy loves music. And music-lovers love him. Especially me.
   In 2000, he established MoonJune Management and Booking which became MoonJune Records. Where did the name MoonJune come from? It came from the phrase “Moon in June” in Robert Wyatt’s tune on the third album by…wait for it…Soft Machine. That album was released in 1970. Obviously, Soft Machine has been near and dear to Leonardo for a long, long time.
   MoonJune Records is a one-man shop. He has taken bands to over 50 countries and has put on well over 2000 concerts. All by himself. Not kidding.
   Somewhere around 2011, Leonardo read some stuff and I had written and asked if I would review some of the albums that MoonJune was releasing. I liked Leonardo’s sense of humor and his dedication to his artists. I had no idea what working with him would be like.
   He began sending me CDs of the most incredible artists I had ever heard in my life. He discovered (for the West) artists and bands from Indonesia, Italy, Serbia, and everywhere one cares to name. One of my favorite “new” bands had the great name of I Know You Well, Miss Clara.
   Then Leonardo started putting together artists in the most amazing combinations, introducing unbelievable artists to appear on albums together. Every time I get a new CD from Leonardo, I immediately look to see who is performing on the album and I am never disappointed.
   So, we were not only going to hear Soft Machine but we were going to get to meet Leonardo Pavkovic.
   We got to the club ahead of time, so that we would have plenty of time to see Leonardo. We were going to get to hang with him after the show.
   When we walked in, a guy was near the front door and had a curious look about him. I don’t mean that he looked odd but that he was looking at me curiously. I thought the myself, “Wow, that guy looks just like Beledo. But what would he be doing in St. Paul?” Beledo is another one of the MoonJune artists, a brilliant composer and a fantastic guitarist and keyboardist. We walked past each other with a smile.
    Nicole and I sat down and ordered something to drink. I texted Leonardo and said, “We are here!” He responded, “I am not there. I am in a hospital in Milwaukee with a bacterial infection. Look for Beledo.”
   Are you kidding me? Come to find out, our guy had cellulitis and was kept in Milwaukee.
   Then I told Nicole, “Oh, wow! That was Beledo!” I hoped that maybe he was the opening act for Soft Machine.
In a few minutes, he came walking by and I called his name. He turned and he greeted us warmly, giving Nicole the Spanish double-kiss. He explained what had happened to Leonardo and, sure enough, he was going to open for Soft Machine.
I texted Leonardo again, all of us saddened that we would have to wait yet again. “We’ll keep trying,” we said.
   Then Beledo came onstage and treated the house to beautiful Spanish guitar and beautiful keyboards. He couldn’t keep himself from singing, either.
   When Beledo described that Leonardo couldn’t be there, the crowd gave an audible groan. Since when does a manager/record-label owner/promoter ever get known or, even more, loved and admired? When it’s Leonardo Pavkovic—the guy who loves and cares for his artists and the people who love music.
   During Soft Machine’s performance, John Etheridge announced that the Downbeat magazine Reader’s Poll had just been released. The number one record label was Blue Note Records, that venerable and ancient Jazz label. Number Two was ECM, another label that has given the world amazing albums—like Keith Jarrett—since 1969.
   The third record label listed in the Reader’s Poll was MoonJune Records. In 2017, it was fourth. The year before, it was fifth.
   A one-man label was ranked third in the world for producing albums that everyone wants to hear.

   Nicole and I had also discovered that Soft Machine’s drummer, John Marshall, had been recalled home because of his wife’s illness. Taking his place was none other than Gary Husband. Marshall has been with Soft Machine since 1973. Husband had played with the great guitarist Allan Holdsworth, who had been a part of Soft Machine in 1975 (and again in 1981) and was replaced by John Etheridge, the current guitarist.
   Some call Gary Husband “the greatest drummer in the world” and it is certainly a discussion worth having. At any rate, his performance with Soft Machine in the latter part of the US tour was nothing short of astonishing.
   None of the original members of Soft Machine are in the band today but the band’s legacy is kept very much alive by guitarist and onstage spokesperson John Etheridge (who joined in 1976), bassist Roy Babbington (1973), sax/flute man Theo Travis (2006) and the missing John Marshall (1971).
   The last studio album from Soft Machine was 37 years ago, 1981’s The Land of Cockayne. In 1984, it looked like Soft Machine was done…and I had missed them, I feared.
   In 2004, four long-time members started touring again after 20 years under the band name Soft Machine Legacy. It was during this period that they signed with MoonJune Records and Leonardo Pavkovic. And they only looked back to pick some sweet music from the highwater days of 1967-78. With the passing of Elton Dean and Hugh Hopper, the band moved forward with the youngest member Theo Travis and their great bassist Babbington. As they say, it is 3/5 of the 1975-77 line-up of greats.
   In 2015, they dropped the Legacy part of the name and returned in strength as Soft Machine, playing music of early composers like Mike Ratledge and Hugh Hopper. Just in September of 2018, they released Hidden Details with band members Etheridge, Travis, Babbington, and Marshall.
   This was the show Nicole and I got to see…for me, 45 years in the making and—Good Lord—I was not disappointed.
It wasn’t a concert of rattling around old numbers from their salad days nor was it simply a live casting of their new album. It was a beautiful mix of old and new. Etheridge and Travis do most of the writing these days but they included great stuff from Ratledge and Hopper.
   John Etheridge gave sage advice to young women that, if they want to stay young-looking, “Just be seen with old geezers like us! Then people will say, ‘What is that young thing doing with an old guy like him!’”
   They were fun. They were skilled. They were exactly what I had hoped they would be.
   They moved from lyrical and melodic to furious and exacting.
   They were worth the 45-year wait.

              ~Travis Rogers, Jr. is ​The Jazz Owl