"TONY ADAMO has created a unique genre—"HipSpokenWord". Built on the wisdom of
musical wizards like Gil-Scott Heron, Mark Murphy, Jack Kerouac and hip/hop
master rappers, Tony speaks the Truth through his poetic musings." Random Act
Records. For more funktastic HipSpokenWord, check out
Miles of Blu
at Amazon.com.
Jimmy Smith was laying down an incredible riff on a wall of kinetic sound
that was oozing out of my car radio/
I was on my way back from a singing gig at an Indian Restaurant Saturday
night is jazz night in the City by the Bay/
On my approach to the Bay Bridge I could see the fog was cold and watery
wet as it lay low and crept along like solders on night patrol in Vietnam/
I steered my Chevy Nova like it was a priceless Lamborghini the musical
transition of thought No traffic on the B Bridge…2:00AM on the steel span
and all was right with me/
Jimmy smith with friends Kenny Burrell, Stanley Turrenting, and drummer,
Donald "Duck" Bailey were my musical guides for the ride/
I dug deep as I had to slow down, the fog was horror movie thick/
Now I had time to think to the 100th power Sho' ' nuff and came up with
Don Patterson, RIChard groove holm,Charles Earland, George Fame, Wild Bill
Davis, Shirley Scott, Big John Patton, Baby Face Willette, Larry Young,
Brother Jack McDuff, Jimmy MaGriff./
That's where it's at baby the royal bloodline of B-3 players who brought
us into R&B, Pop, Rock & Roll and Soul Jazz. Into the swingin' feature
goes Joey "D". No boundaries, no limits/
Bridge:
Back at the Chicken Shack people dancin' to a kookin' groove.
Breakin' out into a funk sweat
Boogie sounds brewin' from the B-3
Your twisted sister never danced like that
Reuben Wilson and his killer sounds was a stackin' the beat shakin' the
Chicken Shack down to its feet
What a beautiful and dynamic management of mind, body and intellect goes
into coaxing Soul Jazz out of a fat Hammond B-3 organ/
Was it the foggy, misty, jazzy night? Or…was it that I actually got paid
to sing Jazz?/
No! It was Jimmy Smith's playin' that was vibbin' me along the steel
rail the joyous atmosphere that hung in dense textures of musical
thought was punctuating my life like bayonets turning to thumb prints on
the consciousness of my creative mind. It was in thick reference to the
wet fog rippling across the bridge, like fingers on a Hammond B3, Jimmy
and me……free to be.
