Comparing music styles – examples of NayJ

Blues is desperate and sad, Gospel is naive and cheerful, Country music likes posing as a strong hero, Soul takes the most direct route to the heart, Jazz is something for intellectuals, Rock is brutal and aggressive?

Since I started to explore music as a lead singer in a gospel choir in the sixties (aged 14) till today, aged 70, I’m flattered getting nearer to the mystery of soul and gospel, blues and jazz. I cannot leave this stuff.

Compare some examples of the singer NayJ, I discovered her last week and she even sang a song to my guitar…
1 NayJ. with me (guitar), Luzz (piano, bass) and Oorlab (violin, background vocals)

2 NayJ. with Alex Arcady

3 NayJ. with Paploviante

4 NayJ pop Karaoke

About frizztext

writer, photographer, guitarist

5 responses to “Comparing music styles – examples of NayJ

  1. A very talented singer !
    And if you want other music styles, I’ve got some examples there : http://histozic.fr/2015/02/22/le-flash-du-forum-vol-2015-n08/

    Liked by 1 person

  2. The food of love and wonderful collaborations Frizz!

    Like

  3. Pingback: J’Dess – We Go Make Am | Africaxclusive.com

  4. and I often thought it must be possible, to sing a poem of Lawrence Ferlinghetti:
    +
    AUTOBIOGRAPHY
    by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
    1
    I am leading a quiet life
    in Mike’s Place every day
    watching the champs
    of the Dante Billiard Parlor
    and the French pinball addicts.
    2
    I am leading a quiet life
    on lower East Broadway.
    I am an American.
    I was an American boy.
    I read the American Boy Magazine
    and became a boy scout
    in the suburbs.
    3
    I thought I was Tom Sawyer
    catching crayfish in the Bronx River
    and imagining the Mississippi.
    I had a baseball mitt
    and an American Flyer bike.
    4
    I delivered the Woman’s Home Companion
    at five in the afternoon
    or the Herald Trib
    at five in the morning.
    I still can hear the paper thump
    on lost porches,
    I had an unhappy childhood.
    5
    I saw Lindberg land,
    I looked homeward
    and saw no angel.
    6
    I got caught stealing pencils
    from the Five and Ten Cent Store
    the same month I made Eagle Scout.
    I chopped trees for the CCC
    and sat on them.
    7
    I landed in Normandy
    in a rowboat that turned over.
    I have seen the educated armies
    on the beach at Dover.
    8
    I have seen Egyptian pilots in purple clouds
    shopkeepers rolling up their blinds
    at midday
    potato salad and dandelions
    at anarchist picnics.
    9
    I am reading ‘Lorna Doone’,
    and a life of John Most
    terror of the industrialist
    a bomb on his desk at all times.
    10
    I have seen the garbagemen parade
    in the Columbus Day Parade
    behind the glib
    farting trumpeters.

    11
    I have not been out to the Cloisters
    in a long time
    nor to the Tuileries
    but I still keep thinking
    of going.
    12
    I have seen the garbagemen parade
    when it was snowing.
    I have eaten hot dogs in ballparks.
    13
    I have heard the Gettysburg Address
    and the Ginsberg Address.
    I like it here
    and I won’t go back
    where I came from.
    14
    I too have ridden boxcars, boxcars, boxcars.
    I have travelled among unknown men.
    15
    I have been in Asia
    with Noah in the Ark.
    I was in India
    when Rome was built.
    I have been in the Manger
    with an Ass.
    16
    I have seen the Eternal Distributor
    from a White Hill
    in South San Francisco
    and the Laughing Woman at Loona Park
    outside the Fun House
    in a great rainstorm
    still laughing.

    17
    I have heard the sound of revelry
    by night.
    I have wandered lonely
    as a crowd.
    18
    I am leading a quiet life
    outside of Mike’s Place every day
    watching the world walking by
    in its curious shoes.
    19
    I once started out
    to walk around the world
    but ended up in Brooklyn.
    That Bridge was too much for me.
    20
    I have engaged in silence
    exile and cunning.
    I flew too near the sun
    and my wax wings fell off.
    21
    I am looking for my Old Man
    whom I never knew.
    I am looking for the Lost Leader
    with whom I flew.
    22
    Young men should be explorers.
    Home is where one starts from.
    But Mother never told me
    there’d be scenes like this.
    23
    Womb -weary
    I rest
    I have travelled.
    I have seen goof city.
    I have seen the mass mess.
    24
    I have heard Kid Ory cry.
    I have heard a trombone preach.
    I have heard Debussy
    strained thru a sheet.
    25
    I have slept in a hundred islands
    where books were trees.
    I have heard the birds
    that sound like bells.
    26
    I have worn grey flannel trousers
    and walked upon the beach of hell.
    I have dwelt in a hundred cities
    where trees were books.
    27
    What subways what taxis what cares!
    What women with blind breasts
    limbs lost among skyscrapers
    I have seen the statues of heroes
    at carrefours.
    Danton weeping at a metro entrance
    Columbus in Barcelona
    pointing Westward up the Ramblas
    toward the American Express
    Lincoln in his stony chair
    And a great Stone Face
    in North Dakota.
    I know that Columbus
    did not invent America.
    I have heard a hundred housebroken Ezra Pounds.
    They should all be freed.
    It is long since I was a herdsman.
    I am leading a quiet life
    in Mike’s Place every day
    reading the Classified columns.
    I have read the Reader’s Digest
    from cover to cover
    and noted the close identification
    of the United States and the Promised Land
    where every coin is marked
    In God We Trust
    but the dollar bills do not have it
    being gods unto themselves.
    I read the Want Ads daily
    looking for a stone a leaf
    an unfound door.
    I hear America singing
    in the Yellow Pages.
    One could never tell
    the soul has its rages.
    I read the papers every day
    and hear humanity amiss
    in the sad plethora of print.
    I see where Walden Pond has been
    drained to make an amusement park.
    I see they’re making Melville
    eat his whale.
    I see another war is coming
    but I won’t be there to fight it.
    I have read the writing
    on the outhouse wall.
    I helped Kilroy write it.
    I marched up Fifth Avenue
    blowing on a bugle in a tight platoon
    but hurried back to the Casbah
    looking for my dog.
    I see a similarity between dogs and me.
    Dogs are the true observers
    walking up and down the world
    thru the Molloy country.
    I have walked down alleys
    too narrow for Chryslers.
    I have seen a hundred horseless milkwagons
    in a vacant lot in Astoria.
    Ben Shahn never painted them
    but they’ re there
    askew in Astoria.
    I have heard the junkman’s obbligato.
    I have ridden superhighways
    and believed the billboard’s promises
    Crossed the Jersey Flats
    and seen the Cities of the Plain
    And wallowed in the wilds of Westchester
    with its roving bands of natives
    in stationwagons.
    I have seen them.
    I am the man.
    I was there.
    I suffered somewhat.
    I am an American.
    I have a passport.
    I did not suffer in public.
    And I’m too young to die.
    I am a selfmade man.
    And I have plans for the future.
    I am in line
    for a top job.
    I may be moving on
    to Detroit.
    I am only temporarily
    a tie salesman.
    I am a good Joe.
    I am an open book
    to my boss.
    I am a complete mystery
    to my closest friends.
    I am leading a quiet life
    in Mike’s Place every day
    contemplating my navel.
    I am a part
    of the body’s long madness.
    I have wandered in various nightwoods.
    I have leaned in drunken doorways.
    I have written wild stories
    without punctuation.
    I am the man.
    I was there.
    I suffered
    somewhat.
    I have sat in an uneasy chair.
    I am a tear of the sun.
    I am a hill
    where poets run.
    I invented the alphabet
    after watching the flight of cranes
    who made letters with their legs.
    I am a lake upon a plain.
    I am a word
    in a tree.
    I am a hill of poetry.
    I am a raid
    on the inarticulate.
    I have dreamt
    that all my teeth fell out
    but my tongue lived
    to tell the tale.
    For I am a still
    of poetry.
    I am a bank of song.
    I am a playerpiano
    in an abandoned casino
    on a seaside esplanade
    in a dense fog
    still playing.
    I see a similarity
    between the Laughing Woman
    and myself.
    I have heard the sound of summer
    in the rain.
    I have seen girls on boardwalks
    have complicated sensations.
    I understand their hesitations.
    I am a gatherer of fruit.
    I have seen how kisses
    cause euphoria.
    I have risked enchantment.

    I have seen the Virgin
    in an appletree at Chartres
    And Saint Joan burn
    at the Bella Union.
    I have seen giraffes
    in junglejims
    their necks like love
    wound around the iron circumstances
    of the world.
    I have seen the Venus Aphrodite
    armless in her drafty corridor.
    I have heard a siren sing
    at One Fifth Avenue.
    I have seen the White Goddess dancing
    in the Rue des Beaux Arts
    on the Fourteenth of July
    and the Beautiful Dame Without Mercy
    picking her nose in Chumley’s.
    She did not speak English.
    She had yellow hair
    and a hoarse voice
    and no bird sang.
    I am leading a quiet life
    in Mike’s Place every day
    watching the pocket pool players
    making the minestrone scene
    wolfing the macaronis
    and I have read somewhere
    the Meaning of Existence
    yet have forgotten
    just exactly where.
    But I am the man
    And I’ll be there.
    And I may cause the lips
    of those who are asleep
    to speak.
    And I may make my notebooks
    into sheaves of grass.
    And I may write my own
    eponymous epitaph
    instructing the horsemen
    to pass.

    Like

    • extract:
      I have seen the garbagemen parade
      in the Columbus Day Parade
      behind the glib
      farting trumpeters.
      I have seen the garbagemen parade
      when it was snowing.
      I have eaten hot dogs in ballparks.
      …I like it here
      and I won’t go back
      where I came from.
      xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
      I have seen the Laughing Woman at Loona Park
      outside the Fun House
      in a great rainstorm
      still laughing.
      I have travelled.
      I have seen goof city.
      I have seen the mass mess.
      I have heard Kid Ory cry.
      I have heard a trombone preach.
      I have heard Debussy
      strained thru a sheet.
      xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
      I have slept in a hundred islands
      where books were trees.
      I have dwelt in a hundred cities
      where trees were books.
      (I have heard Kid Ory cry.
      I have heard a trombone preach.)
      xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
      I have heard the sound of summer
      in the rain.
      I have seen girls on boardwalks
      have complicated sensations.
      I understand their hesitations.
      I am a gatherer of fruit.
      I have seen how kisses
      cause euphoria.
      I have risked enchantment.
      I have seen the Venus Aphrodite
      armless in her drafty corridor.
      I have heard a siren sing
      at One Fifth Avenue.
      xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

      Like

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