Book Review- Kind of Blue: The Making of the Miles Davis Masterpiece

A mere handful of seconds ago I got done reading Kind of Blue: The Making of the Miles Davis Masterpiece by Ashley Kahn. This book is a loving tribute that tells the story of what has proven to be one of the most popular jazz albums of all time. Kahn does a really good job of setting the scene in the studio but that’s quite literally not the whole story. He also gives some of Miles’s history as a musician and bandleader, from wet-behind-the-ears bebop sideman fresh off the bus to New York to his seemingly inevitable years as lost heroin devotee to his ascent to unlikely pop culture icon before discussing the album’s impact and legacy.

Not That Kind of Girl

Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Thriller…Those aren’t my genres. Or weren’t until I was introduced to you, my dear J.J. Abrams, and your Bad Robot productions. Oh, how I will follow you and your pop culture phenomena to the ends of the earth. How you dangle unknown actors in my face, tie me into story lines and tease me with unbearable cliff-hangers. I love you. I hate you. I can’t live without you.

What the Buck???

Ok… As if my opinion on this mattered to the “head shed” at Marvel… And as if my previous musings on the whole Captain America thing hadn’t already been made abundantly clear… LEAVE THIS GUY ALONE! HE’S DEAD!

The whole Marvel Civil War thing seemed to me to be a case of blatant political bullshit, but in spite of itself, having an overarching storyline provided a lot of room for some fairly significant development of both the minor and major characters. Of course, when you basically “out” over half of the worlds’ superheroes, you introduce a human element that makes the characters a bit more believable. And the assassination of Steve Rogers, Captain America, was the capstone to this whole shebang. Kill a major character, let the world mourn, have some random heroes carry the mantel of the fallen hero for a while… Boo freakin hoo! So all that’s left to fill the cookie cutter plotline that’s been used for oh, fifty years or so, is for the fallen hero to be resurrected.

Syndrome vs Saruman

The worst thing about the subway was the smell. The second worst thing was all the filthy people. The third worst thing was all the panhandlers, although as Saruman thought about it, that third thing was really just an extension of the second one and probably didn’t merit being its own thing. At any rate, he was in an especially sour mood. That’s not to say he wasn’t always in a sour mood. It should be noted, however, that this mood was so sour that it was nasty compared with his average mood. Suffice it to say, he was not happy. His car was in the shop and he had no option but to use public transportation to return to his home in Newark.

Saurman pushed his way into the waiting subway car just as the doors were trying to close and was immediately jostled from behind by some lout trying to push his way on as well. He turned to give this ruffian a displeasing look and found himself eye to eye with an equally disgruntled Syndrome.