On The Sunny Side of The Street, It’s Black History Month!

Happy Black History Month!  Who cares about the Oscars?  The most important point of power in all situations is being able to see through to the structure of anything.  Those who cannot manipulate real time events to show themselves, chosen, entitled, special, ‘genius’ and all that nonsense will ever cheat, lie and steal.  Please do tell in in what other universe would there be a tie between Katherine Hepburn and Barbra Streisand for Best Actress but in this one where the most venal racists run the show and everyone looks like another variation on Jackie ‘blasted god-fugly’ Stallone.

Go on, give each other awards; what does it finally matter when you know nothing of being cool and sophisticated as in those whom you so revile, vilify, loathe, incite others to hate – all the while crying of being victimised.  You know… those marvellous people whose spirit you will  never crush, despite the attempts of Orly Taitz and the returned de Torquemada – now no less fugly got up in reincarnational drag – Jackson, Woods and Cosby and you just know that the swine has only just begun.  They, those marvellous people, who like dreams – wherein only truth and beauty exist – are the ones to have invented Jazz and whose spirit will never be eclipsed by your god-fugly ugliness.  Yes, them… they who don’t need awards to show how special, chosen and what marvellous geniuses one so over-compensatorily is not!

Alas, for the truly marvellous people every day of the year is awards season; despite your alarming ugliness, you have positively no power over any of us when we set feet into our homes.  There, despite your lunacy, we affirm our creaturehood, our beauty or phenomenalness and we turn on some Jazz which can speak to no one else as it speaks to every last one of us – not you!  So while you infest the culture, like some fetid mould – which thankfully are never lasting – just know that the ugliness of your lies can in no way invalidate the beauty of Miles Davis, Duke Ellington, Ella Fitzgerald, Betty Carter, Lena Horne, Anita Baker, Sarah Vaughan, Diana Ross, Natalie Cole… and countless others.

So go on and speciously raise your rear right leg and take to the airwaves claiming, “Jazz has its roots in Klezmer!”  Just remember this: forgiveness is the price a damn fool would gladly pay to forget anything.  Clearly, you do not know Black people and come November, we won’t collectively have taken leave of senses and do as you would wish… not after Orly…  Who cares about the Oscar vote?  Our vote is the one that truly matters…  Remember eight years ago… “I’m Voting For Her!”  We do not forget… where is that displaced haus frau anyway?  You know, the one who was partout on TV demanding that the unchosen sheeple, “Vote For Hillary!” followed by that demented laugh of hers… perhaps, she is too distracted these days trying to recall with which hand she ate last night.

Truly empowered are they who always say what the fuck they mean and never leave any doubt as to their resolve.

Incidentally, all the Jazz artists mentioned in this blog, I have to date done their Michael Overleaves.  Some are listed in the Michael Overleaves Appendix page those which aren’t were only recently channelled; they are… Natalie Cole, Anita Baker and Lena Horne.  Not in the least surprised was I to have found that Natalie Cole is an entity mate.  Every time I hear her voice, I am instantaneously catapulted to a groove that I can only call a soul high…  So then here are her Michael Overleaves with one of my favourite video performances of hers.  Every idiosyncrasy of hers resonates to the very core of my being… God she could represent!

________________________________

*Richard is New York City academician whom Merlin met during the final couple of years of his life.  This man had the most uncanny resemblance energetically to Merlin and I only met him a week after Merlin’s passing as he ventured to Toronto; he had previously planned to, to bid Merlin farewell.  Alas, unlike Joe Morton who flew in from Los Angeles for 24 hours to be with Merlin, Richard  had been too late but came nonetheless; the gesture was truly noble of spirit and was greatly appreciated.

____________________________________________________________________________________

©2013-2026 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.

Ugly Beauty.

Album:  Underground (1968)

Label:  Columbia

Piano:  Thelonious Monk

Tenor Saxophone:  Charlie Rouse

Bass:  Larry Gales

Drums:  Ben Riley.

Because every day is a Thelonious Monk day!

This brings back such sweet lazy memories of raining days – more like four days straight – in November in Vancouver!

__________________________________________________________________________________

©2013-2026 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.

Natalie Cole 6/2/50 ]-O-[ 31/12/15

Natalie Cole

Natalie-Cole

natalie cole2

natalie cole3

Cole, Natalie 6/2/1950<O>31/12/2015

Michael: This fragment was a fifth level mature artisan – 3rd life thereat.  Natalie was in the power mode with a goal of growth.  She was a sceptic who was in the moving part of intellectual centre. 

Natalie’s was a Saturn/Mars body type. 

Natalie’s primary chief feature was stubbornness with a strong secondary chief feature of self-destruction which was primarily internally focussed. 

Natalie’s casting is in the fifth position of the fourth cadence in the second greater cadence – she is a cadence mate of Richard E. White (he is in fourth position).  She is a member of entity six, cadre one, greater cadre 7, pod 414 – another entity mate. 

Natalie’s essence twin is a discarnate artisan and her priest task companion was known to her. 

The three primary needs for Natalie were: expression, freedom and power. 

There are 12 past-life associations between Natalie and Arvin whilst there are 16 past-life associations with Merlin.  

natalie cole4

I am so devastated by this loss that I don’t even have the time to do the usual due diligence of listing credits.

So poised, elegant, admirable, fabulous, fantastic… could scat/vocalese just as stratospherically as Ella Fitzgerald.

From seeing her at Ontario Place’s Amphitheatre in the ’70s, whilst she did her funky soul diva incarnation, to the sheer brilliance of her sophisticated Jazz syncopation, there was no one else who could make me feel more fuck-all fabulous pride and take seriously this joint call being Black.

Natalie got to the very essence of who we, a proud noble people, truly are.  Her album: Take A Look (1993) literally afforded me the grace and dignity to get through the most hellish experience of being in a workplace surrounded by people who haven’t a clue that they are crazy – a people who collectively render us as invisible and who relish at every opportunity the racially predatory thrill of talking about us and openly ridiculing us as though we were a weeble-infested bag of flour in the corner.  These marvellous people for whom the gun is g_d incarnate and for whom it has never once occurred that we possibly could perceive them as crazy – crazy as in having invented something as absurd as Apartheid, crazy in openly gunning us down because well… one can, crazy as in busing, crazy as in building latter day landlocked Mayflowers whose hull hold a cargo that staves off the flowering of the next Coltrane, Tatum, Monk, Ellington et al… crazy as in harvesting a most strange fruit from poplar trees whilst crazily dressed up in the coward’s garb from pointy head to toe, crazy as in then having the fuck-all temerity to squat all over the culture and ape, ape, ape like crazy every thing we do culturally, creatively…. alas, who else but the crazy would openly hate you then turn around and ape everything you do from Jazz, to Hip-Hop, to Rap and all the while, like the truly crazy then somehow think that we never notice that they never ever have personal relations with Blacks… la Krall, Bublé and Eminem to name but a few readily come to mind.

Every day in Vancouver, for having survived and gotten one day closer to triumphantly getting through 24 months of workplace probation, it was to my lovely art-filled West End apartment that I retreated where this lovely beauteous-eyed goddess, Natalie Cole, would greet me with a voice that would truly embalm the soul from the bilious dissonance of the racial predator – those who haven’t a fucking clue that they are crazy…  And how the crazy people love to laugh at everything.

Sweet and blissful dreams dear Natalie, you proud noble griot who came to remind us that we are the most beautiful lotus to have flowered from the hellish swamp known as the semi-feral well-armed racial predator’s paradise.  What a positively rich, layered, textured, august life you accomplished…

A better place this world, a more grounded people we are, for you having chosen to be focussed herein at this time, in this place.

_________________________________

*As I had always planned on doing Natalie Cole’s Michael Overleaves, they had not been done at the time of her passing and my having penned this impassioned tribute.  A couple of weeks later when her overleaves arrived, it was one of the rare times that on receiving someone’s overleaves that I broke down crying.  I always felt strongly connected to this woman – she was family.  Here then, at this juncture, though they have been added previously and subsequent to this original post – it is now December 2016 as I change the copyright time stamp – are Natalie Cole’s rather august Michael Overleaves – Natalie’s overleaves are now listed above.

There are these little things that bind us for being entity and cadre mates… at the end of the video for Route 66 which accompanies this tribute post, Natalie Cole can be heard saying, “Yeah, yeah, yeah!”  This is precisely what fellow artisan and entity mate Attila Isaksen and I would repeat to each other as a greeting or when slipping out of inner musings after long pleasurable sexual play.  END..

___________________________________________________________________________________

©2013-2026 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.

I Remember.

Michael by Warhol

Michael Jackson by Andy Warhol.  On this the anniversary of Michael Jackson’s birth, I thought to pay tribute to one of the most inspiring creative geniuses to have ever graced this world.  This is a work by Andy Warhol which is part of the Revolver Gallery’s Andy Warhol: Revisited – A Pop Art Exhibition in Yorkville at 77 Bloor Street West, Toronto.  One of the truly fantastic shows to have graced Toronto in long ages.

I finally got to attend a couple of weeks ago with my brother and my only nephew –  in town for the summer from the Bahamas.  We had a good visit and the show was the most spectacular show I have seen in long ages.  Beautifully curated and just intimate enough that it doesn’t end up being overwhelming or, more importantly, underwhelming.

https://warholrevisited.com/

Michael_Jackson_as_Captain_EO

Michael Jackson: August 29, 1958 [-O-] June 25, 2009.

Here’s a dream, previously shared in this unique and utterly unrivalled blog of mine, of Michael Jackson being his marvellously shamanic wonderful self.  I love you more, Michael – sweet and blissful dreams.

https://dreampoetica.com/2014/09/17/oh-what-joy/

https://www.youtube.com/embed/LeiFF0gvqcc“>http://

Remember The Time, Michael Jackson, © 1992 MJJ Productions Inc.

____________________________________________________________________________

© 2013-2026 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.

Happy 100th Birthday Billie Holiday!

a-billie-holiday

Billie Holiday.

07.04.191517.07.1959

God Bless The Child

Voice: Billie Holiday

Composition: Billie Holiday, Arthur Herzog Jr. c. 1939

________________

Fine and Mellow

Written: Billie Holiday c. 1939

Live TV recording 1957.

Voice: Billie Holiday

Piano: Mal Waldon

Double Bass: Milt Hinton

Guitar: Danny Barker

Tenor Saxophone: BenWebster & Lester Young & Coleman Hawkins

Baritone Saxophone: Gerry Mulligan

Trombone: Vic Dickenson

Trumpet: Doc Cheatham & Roy Eldridge

Drums: Osie Johnson

_______________

Strange Fruit

Written: Abel Meeropol c. 1937

Composition: Billie Holiday c. 1939

Voice: Billie Holiday.

_______________

Lover Man, Oh Where Can You Be.

Written: Jimmy Davis & Roger Ramirez & James Sherman c. 1941

Live performance 1958, Oakdale Music Theater, Wallingford, Connecticut.

Voice: Billie Holiday

Piano: Mal Waldron

Bass: Milt Hinton

Trumpet: Buck Clayton

Drums: Don Lamond

_________________

One of my all-time favourite Billie Holiday tunes.  I first fell in love with it whilst working at the Underground Railroad Restaurant on King Street East just west of Sherbourne Street back in the late 1970s – all whilst finding time to run around the city taking ballet class and studying in high school then later at York University – when Salome Bey was doing her Cabaret show and her husband, Howard Matthews was part owner, along with Jazz drummer, Archie Alleyne.  There was an intense and wonderful Jazz education!

Too, there was that memorable Sunday Brunch in late 1982 at the actress, Patricia Neal’s grand Upper West Side apartment which Merlin took on a short-term sublet.  Frederick Jones and his Puerto Rican-born lover were there, along with a couple of dancer friends of mine and, of course, fellow dancer and friend of Merlin’s, Miguel Godreau.

Merlin the night we met, Friday, October 1, 1982, had excused himself from dinner at the Afro-Cuban restaurant, around from my West 49th Street apartment, on 9th Avenue in Hell’s Kitchen.  He had gone to make a phone call – ah yes, there was an age before the cellphone’s ubiquity – and cancelled getting together with Miguel.  They had been dating after Miguel had appeared in Ken Russell’s 1980 film, Altered States starring, William Hurt and who at that time was a member of the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater.

Just in case, I had proven an utter bore, Merlin had made alternate plans; however, after I had passed most of dinner to the groovy music massaging his burgeoning lap across the deuce from me with my nimbly dexterous pointed feet, Miguel did not stand a chance.

Besides, one does not exactly say no to one’s task companion when first meeting on the physical plane… again, especially when it was planned.  In any event, after fruit-filled pancakes drowned in Canadian maple syrup, Merlin and I – who by then had had multiple ménage-à-trois with Miguel – blew each other soft kisses whilst he sat admiringly looking at Miguel and me slow dance to this truly haunting tune.

Merlin almost never danced; however, our pas de deux between the sheets has left Merlin an unsurpassed lover of magical skills.

Happy Birthday Billie Holiday and, wherever you are, may your current incarnation be a most blessed lucid dream.  You know, I really ought to do her overleaves…

_____________________________________________________________________________________

© 2013-2026 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.

Oreo.

Oreo

Acrylic on Canvas

126 x 100.5 cm

© 1988 Jean-Michel Basquiat

Provenance:  Private Collection as of 2005.

One of my favourite pieces in the current Jean-Michel Basquiat exhibition at the AGO.  The reviewers in both the Globe and Mail and NOW magazine haven’t a fucking clue what they are talking about; certainly, in the case of the latter it is the sort of sly invidiousness that one can ever expect of Canadians in their cool animus towards Blacks and the Black artistic aesthetic.  Later for the likes of sphinctered, snow-driven dreck comme lui…

Of course, all that glorious fecund green serves as a good enough reason to say, Happy St. Patrick’s Day.  As James Joyce so deftly illustrated, we are all Irish for being possessed of imagination… we are all dreamers – I certainly am.  I love you more!

____________________________________________________________________________________

© 2013-2026 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.

Exu.

Exu 1988

Acrylic, Oil Stick on Canvas

199.3 x 254 cm

© 1988 Jean-Michel Basquiat

Provenance: Private collection

Today, I shall see this show for the fifth time.

_____________________________________________________________________________

© 2013-2026 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.

Corner Pocket.

© 1962 Corner Pocket, Count Basie Orchestra Live Performance.

Various artists.  I dare you listen to this without hitting the repeat button at least twice.  Music is life – what in the hell do you know about living talking jive ’bout “Jazz has its roots in klezmer.”  Shit is so not cool!

________________________________________________________________________________

© 2013-2026 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.

Butterfly.

© 1974 Herbie Hancock, Butterfly, Thrust.  Columbia Records.

Fender Rhodes/Clavinet/Arp Synths: Herbie Hancock

Bass: Paul Jackson

Saxophone/Clarinet/Flute: Benny Maupin

Drums: Mike Clark

Percussion: Bill Summers

A brief lover of mine, in Vancouver, always played this album when he was in the mood.  Such memories!

_________________________________________________________________________

© 2013-2026 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.

Maple Leaf Rag.

1899 Maple Leaf Rag, Scott Joplin

Piano: Scott Joplin.

This is such a favourite of mine.  I include here as it is not traditional Jazz; however, as Scott Joplin would be reincarnated and be even more famous, I have chosen to include him here.  That, of course, is because the reincarnated Scott Joplin is the performer, Prince with whom Merlin was completely and utterly besotted and obsessed – the only performer about whom he felt this way.  

________________________________________________________________________

© 2013-2026 Arvin da Brgha.  All Rights Reserved.