Miles Davis Pepperdine Lurid eccentric sputtering: student gives strange homeless man pep talk (Illustrated with ASRGenerateStoryandVideo)

 

 

 

 

 

18-year-old student Utahna's, nineteen-nineties Pepperdine University, poolside career recommendation -- offered gratis, to the unkempt, dark man, whom she thought looked, each exotic, and homeless -- first week off-farm in Malibu.

Encounter of anonymous freedom, uncynical, nor preordained -- it came quickly with recognition of the weird gentleman beside her on campus, poolside -- of his talent she was bound that it greatly merited wider listening.

 

 

 

 

 

 

    Miles Dewey Davis Jr. intervention: free and instant review (anonymous, sitting beside Pepperdine pool -- together).  

To him, Pepperdine student -- opinion of a piece of music, he mentioned as being 'contemporary,' and which he requested  her assessment of same.

Offering early, red Walkman -- cued to demo of one of the most troublesome pieces of late-fusion jazz, thought by some non-cognoscenti:  sometimes --noise.

Having listened through the musician's own red Walkman headphones; having genuinely enjoyed the 'strange' music, she provided a real appraisal of this, to her, avant-garde piece of music, which she hoped would offer the person encouragement to pursue a career within the future, saying:

"You ought to ‘do something’ with this."

She had not a clipped wit to whom it was she’d galvanized • a review, she said, "had appeared honestly, and touched him just the same."

A stranger's enjoyment and encouragement for a few of the foremost hard jazz bars of the 20th century, by one of every one and the same--architect, purveyor, performer--top-10 cultural icons on the planet.

The cultural icon whom she had blissfully just failed to recognize.  

A man so identifiable in every sense, that it would only take a year or so in the smokey air between the Ocean, the PCH, and Pep for it to all come crashing down on her one night--an epiphany.

Seeing him onstage, blousy shirt, sweaty shine, miraculous jazz--she predicted it would go over well, she'd thought to herself just then:  the house lights went down and the applause went through the roof.

Lurid, eccentric, and sputtering wares blown up and at 'em: metropolis skirt flaps--declarative, illustrious to Chicago.

Icy beats ringing with fever of dazzling sapphire--stark paronomasia.  

Soft grime jazz of the mythopoeic, hopeless musician which Bix B. would have approved.

 

 ('* Man, arise and be recognized. * See him live in fever dreams of ultimate, diabolic existence. * Man, arises. * "Love, Manuel Noriega," written across the top. * "Sleep Deprivation Mix," scrawled below. * "Love" written on the top of the piece. * Bix, fast from his family home, fell dotty with Armstrong. * Collaborating and addressing every mistake incapable of correction. * Many jazz trumpeters and cornetists measure Victor Herbert L. Clarkes 1921 letter to Elden Benge, foremost trumpeter, musician and author of standards--16-year-old student. * Jazz trumpeters are often exaggerated, undeterred, but secreted in a girl\'s purse.', '    Length of Input:---->845', '  Length of Output:----> 636')

 

("Disguised, toneless notation--wicked as Lydian arithmetic. Musical lacunae--Junkanoo Jazz.

 

What's love, but, a second hand emotion? Many jazz trumpeters and cornetists measure Victor Herbert L. Clarke’s 1921 letter to Elden Benge, foremost trumpeter, musician and author of standards--16-year-old student whether or not, or to not switch from trumpet to enforce unenforceable larger Chicago to navigate--strip sensory stimulation, emphatic horns, ham-handed tittle-tattle whose omen is dubious--neither newer legacies exaggerated, undeterred, but secreted in a girl's purse. Hogtied-up where the Free Kabbala symphony, more toothless union's inability to banish itself from itself -- orchestra erased canonical theses -- ethereal, recollected, echoic squawks:  unreal, in unsignatured time.

 

“As he was the king, guys needed his strategy, but that suggests the opposite in terms of vocalization on surface--to remain up or enhance attack of dissembling used to offend interlocutors.

 

You can't give it to 'em dry like that\n    You gotta get that shit wet first, nigga\n    Like, come on now! (\n    Let's go!\n    )

[Verse 2: Nicki Minaj]\n    Uh-huh, uh-huh, yo, ayo\n    I was on the plane with Dwayne\n    You can call me Whitley, I go to Hillman\n    Listen, I'm the baddest in the school, the baddest in the game\n    Excuse me, honey, but nobody's in my lane\n    When you was in New York, you was fuckin' a Yankee\n    I was fuckin' with base, I was pitchin' to Franky\n    These bitches so cranky, get 'em a hanky\n    M-mommy, I'm cold, gimme my blankie\n    Flyer than a kite, I get higher than Rapunzel\n    Keep the Snow White, I could buy it by the bundle\n    Step your cookies up 'fore they crumble\n    Don't be actin' like the Cardinals and gon' fumble\n    'Cause I'm a Steeler, fresh up out the dealer\n    All the dope boys gon' feel her\n    Flow so sick I need a healer\n    Fuck is my MAC concealer? (Ooh)\nWould you be my American boy?", '    Length of Input:---->15967', '  Length of Output:----> 2073')

 

 

* Free Jazz thinker Ornette Coleman, is bell-blowin' Hell through high water to thirty-second beats of pantomimic mummers.
* Man, arise and be recognized.
* See him live in fever dreams of ultimate, diabolic existence.
* Man, arises.
* "Love, Manuel Noriega," written across the top.
* "Sleep Deprivation Mix," scrawled below.
* "Love" written on the top of the piece.
* Bix, fast from his family home, fell dotty with Armstrong.
* Collaborating and addressing every mistake incapable of correction.
* Many jazz trumpeters and cornetists measure Victor Herbert L. Clarke's 1921 letter to Elden Benge, foremost trumpeter, musician and author of standards--16-year-old student.
* Jazz trumpeters are often exaggerated, undeterred, but secreted in a girl's purse.
* Miles Dewey Davis Jr. intervention: free recommendation and instant review of jazz.\

 ("Soft grime jazz of the mythopoeic, hopeless musician.Man Man, arise and be recognized.Lacunae-Junkanoo Jazz. All you have to do is fall in love with me, all you have to do is play the game Christian and Satine share their feelings for each other in this duet. Here are some of the most famous love songs from the past 50 years. Bix and gladiator meet Summer of 1920: Mississippi Riverboat S.S. Capitol pulls into Davenport-Armstrong on board. Hit records need to repeat strategy on the surface, but guys need to repeat it. Clarke’s letter to Benge is seen by many as omen. U.S. premiere of a new work by Pulitzer Prize-winning composer. Is there a difference between ‘up’ and ‘enhance’ attacks? Recommendation came after first week off-farm in Malibu ruler.Walkman gives review of his most troublesome piece of music.Watch the video for the classic 1970s song, Seven Up, from the film The Graduate. Nicki Minaj, DJ Holiday team up for a new track.U.S. rapper breaks down on the importance of getting that shit wet. Nicki Minaj, DJ Holiday, Mizay Entertainment give us some Trap-A-Holics goodness.Check out the full tracklist below: I’m the only thing hoppin’, like a kangaroo I mean only thing Nicki Minaj's new single is called “Anaconda” and features Oscar Mayer. I win, I win! Nicki Minaj's performance at the Video Music Awards.I want, I want, I want, leopard-skin, like, you know?Singer-songwriter has a message for aspiring artists.Hard jazz was not a form of art, it was a way of life.Check out the video for Kanye's new single with Estelle.Post-Chorus, Estelle, Mura Masa, Mura Masa and more on their new album.Estelle is back in London for the first time in four years.Estelle's latest single is about a trip to New York.West and Estelle team up for the first time on new single.I Is it true that fashion has become more fashion-forward in recent years?Check out the full tracklist below:Would you be my love, my love?Estelle, Post-Chorus, Be my American boy all in the same song.", '    Length of Input:---->15967', '  Length of Output:----> 1994')

 

 

 

Being Beiderbecke -- sharing his parturient, patronymic bed of cool-blowin' Genesis from barn in Israel, Bix created music that was prototype, detected in haunts wherever haints and molls gathered--dreaming up gin mills in each one.


Free Jazz thinker Ornette Coleman, is bell-blowin' Hell through high water to thirty-second beats of pantomimic mummers: eight phrasal, rugger-mugger pastiness repel second-mind intuition.

Man, arise and be recognized.

See him live in fever dreams of ultimate, diabolic existence.

Disguised, toneless notation--wicked as Lydian arithmetic.

Compelled to sexually subdue and scold through hazing ritual repetitive tortures.

 

    "Love, Manuel Noriega," written across the top.

    "Sleep Deprivation Mix," scrawled below.

    Musical lacunae--Junkanoo Jazz.

    Day 1

 [CHRISTIAN, spoken]
All you need is love
[SATINE, spoken]
You're being ridiculous
[CHRISTIAN, spoken]
All you need is love
[sung]
Just one night, give me just one night
[SATINE]
There's no way 'cause you can't pay
[CHRISTIAN]
In the name of love, one night in the name of love
[SATINE]
You crazy fool, I won't give in to you
[CHRISTIAN]
It's so easy, all you have to do is fall in love
[SATINE]
Love hurts
[CHRISTIAN]
All you have to do is play the game
[SATINE]
Love scars
[CHRISTIAN]
All you have to do is
Take on me
[SATINE]
No, no, no, it ain't me
[CHRISTIAN]
Take me on
[SATINE]
No, no, no because you'll be gone in a day or two
[CHRISTIAN]
I love you, always, forever
Near or far, closer together
Everywhere I will be with you
[SATINE]
Love is a battlefield
[CHRISTIAN]
Everything I will do for you
[SATINE]
Don't speak
I know just what you're thinking
So please stop explaining
Don't tell me 'cause it hurts
[CHRISTIAN]
Open up your eyes, then you'll realize
Here I stand with my everlasting love
Need you by my side, girl, you'll be my pride
You'll never be denied, everlasting love
[SATINE]
What's love got to do, got to do with it?
What's love, but, a second hand emotion?
What's love got to do, got to do with it?
Who needs a heart, when a heart can be broken?
[Christian and
Satine
,
Both
]
You're breaking my heart
S'pose I never, ever met you
[SATINE]
What's love got to do with it?
[CHRISTIAN]
Suppose we never fell in love
[SATINE]
Who needs a heart?
[CHRISTIAN]
Suppose I kept on singing love songs
[SATINE]
All of this music breaks my heart
[BOTH]
Yes, it breaks my heart
Yes it breaks my heart
[CHRISTIAN]
I can't help falling in love with you
[SATINE]
I'm all out of faith
This is how I feel
I'm cold and I'm ashamed lying naked on the floor
[CHRISTIAN]
Take me on
[SATINE]
Illusion never changed into something real
I'm wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn
[CHRISTIAN]
They will see us coming from such great heights
"Come down now", they'll say
[BOTH]
Everything looks perfect from far away
"Come down now", but we'll stay
[CHRISTIAN]
'Cause, love lifts us up where we belong
Where the eagles fly on a mountain high
[BOTH]
Love makes us act like we are fools
Throw our lives away for one happy day
[CHRISTIAN]
We can be heroes, just for one day
[SATINE]
Though nothing can keep us together
[CHRISTIAN]
We can steal time, just for one day
[BOTH]
We can be heroes forever and ever
We can be lovers just for one day
We can be heroes forever and ever
We can be lovers just for one day
[CHRISTIAN]
And you can tell everybody
[BOTH]
This is your song
It may be quite simple but, now that it's done
I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind
That I put down in words
[CHRISTIAN]
We can be heroes
[SATINE]
How wonderful life is
[CHRISTIAN]
We can be heroes
[SATINE]
How wonderful life is
[CHRISTIAN]
We can be heroes
[SATINE]
How wonderful life is
[BOTH]
While you're in the world
I will always love you
And I will always love you
And I will always love you

    Sect of disciples, doctor lecturers whose secretary, overdeveloped, unhappy, however, redoubtably decrepit, ruins her subject ascendant--its hunger goes to bed starving.

    A voluntary bunch who compel to each sex--and dire, portraiture love playacted of deprivation-x.

    Bix and gladiator meet Summer of 1920:  Mississippi Riverboat S.S. Capitol pulls into Davenport--Armstrong on board, enjoying Orchestra.

    Bix, fast from his family home, fell dotty with Armstrong. 

    Collaborating and addressing every mistake incapable of correction, whose life as wild retribution--no mercy was there to forestall.

    Orthogonal, as he was King: hit records--guys needed to repeat his strategy which on the surface seemed applicable, but suggested otherwise--vocalizations of enhanced attack, or recipient, dissimulating used to offend interlocutors.

    Many jazz trumpeters and cornetists measure Victor Herbert L. Clarke’s 1921 letter to Elden Benge, foremost trumpeter, musician and author of standards--16-year-old student whether or not, or to not switch from trumpet to enforce unenforceable larger Chicago to navigate--strip sensory stimulation, emphatic horns, ham-handed tittle-tattle whose complete omen is dubious--neither newer legacies exaggerated, undeterred, but secreted in a girl's purse. 

    Hogtied-up where the house of Brave and Free, a Kabbala symphony, more, toothless labor union's inability to banish itself from itself -- orchestra erased canonical theses-- ethereal, recollected, echoic squawks, unreal, in unsignatured time.
   

“As he was the king of hits, guys needed to repeat his use of strategy that seems applicable, but that suggests the opposite in terms of management is vocalization appearance, on surface, to remain up or enhance recipient attack of recipient, a dissembling kind used to offend interlocutors."

 [Intro: Seven Up]
Yo, yo, yo
What's up, what's the deal?
It's your boy, Seven Up, man
You already know if it's up, then it's stuck, and all that
But you already know how it is, man
Shout out to Nicki Minaj, man
I just wanted to share, man, you already know
Free makeup, mixtapes, and all that, you know how we give it up
Got me yellin' on a plane, man, listen up, man
[Verse 1 (False Start): Nicki Minaj]
Uh-huh, uh-huh, yo, ayo
I was on the plane with Dwayne
You can call me Whitley, I go to Hillman
Listen, I'm the baddest in the school, the baddest in the game
Excuse me, honey, but nobody's in my lane
When you was in New York, you was fuckin' a Yankee
I was fuckin' with base, I was pitchin' to Franky
These bitches so cranky, get 'em a hanky
M-mommy, I'm cold, gimme my bla-
[DJ Drop: Nicki Minaj &
DJ Holiday
]
Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah, woah, woah!
Okay, okay, woah, woah, Holiday
Wait, hold on, hold on, Holiday!
You can't give it to 'em dry like that
You gotta get that shit wet first, nigga
Like, come on now!  (
I got you!
)
You gotta prep them for shit like that
They can't just get that shit right off the top
Like, you gotta bring that shit back
Bring that shit the fuck back! (
Let's go!
)
I think we got y'all's attention now, right?
Nicki Minaj, DJ Holiday, Mizay Entertainment
Shouts out Trap-A-Holics, we run this!
Let's go, Nicki!
[Verse 2: Nicki Minaj]
Uh-huh, uh-huh, yo, ayo
I was on the plane with Dwayne
You can call me Whitley, I go to Hillman
Listen, I'm the baddest in the school, the baddest in the game
Excuse me, honey, but nobody's in my lane
When you was in New York, you was fuckin' a Yankee
I was fuckin' with base, I was pitchin' to Franky
These bitches so cranky, get 'em a hanky
M-mommy, I'm cold, gimme my blankie
Flyer than a kite, I get higher than Rapunzel
Keep the Snow White, I could buy it by the bundle
Step your cookies up 'fore they crumble
Don't be actin' like the Cardinals and gon' fumble
'Cause I'm a Steeler, fresh up out the dealer
All the dope boys gon' feel her
Flow so sick I need a healer
Fuck is my MAC concealer?
I be out in Queens on the back of four-
Whee-whee-whee-whee-whee-whee-wheelers
I'm a big deal
That's why I get more head than a pigtail
Put some ranch out, I’m gettin' the munchies
I think I'll have a rap bitch for my entrée
'Cause they be thinking they can spit, spit-shine my shoes
You know I keep a bad bitch, let me sign your boobs
I'm the only thing hoppin', like a kangaroo
I mean the only thing poppin', like a can of brew
Listen, you should buy a sixteen, 'cause I write it good
That 808 woof-woof, 'cause I ride it good
And bitches can't find they man, 'cause I ride it good
I'm the wolf, where is Little Red-a Riding Hood?
[Chorus: Nicki Minaj]
Now, if you see a itty bitty piggy in the market
Give that bitch a quarter and a car, tell her, "Park it"
I don't fuck with pigs, like "as-salamu alaykum"
I put 'em in a field, I let Oscar Mayer bake 'em
And if you see a itty bitty piggy in the market
Give that bitch a quarter and a car, tell her, "Park it"
I don't fuck with pigs, like "as-salamu alaykum"
I put 'em in a field and I let Oscar Mayer bake 'em, bitches
[Interlude: Nicki Minaj]
Wow
It's like I just single-handedly annihilated, you know, every rap bitch in the building
Like, like, I'm Nicki Minaj, Nicki Lewinsky, Nicki the Ninja, Nicki the Boss, Nicki the Harajuku Barbie
Like, I mean, I don't even know why you girls bother at this point
Like, give it up! It's me!
I win! You lose Hahahahahahaha
Oh, shit! Hahaha, yo
[Bridge: Nicki Minaj]
I'm a bad bitch, I'm a, I'm a bad bitch
I'm a bad bitch, I'm a, I'm a bad bitch
I'm a bad bitch, I'm a, I'm a bad bitch
I'm a bad bitch, I'm a, I'm a bad bitch
[Outro: Nicki Minaj]
Hahahahahaha
I told you, I told you before
I told you y'all was gonna have to pick my fruit out
Now listen, in addition to pickin' my fruit out
I want y'all to start going to the boutiques
Know what I'm saying?
Get some, get some, get some crazy shit for me
I want, I want, you know, leopard-skin, and, you know?
I want, I want all that crazy lizard-skin shit, like, you know?
Make sure you...
You can be my personal shopper!
Hahahahahahahahahahahaha
Aaaaayyyyooooo!
Woo
Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh

[Intro: Kanye West &
Estelle
]
This a number one champion sound (
Yeah
)
Yeah, Estelle, we 'bout to get down (
Get down
)
Who the hottest in the world right now? (
Uh
)
Just touched down in London town (
Uh
)
Bet they give me a pound (
Uh
)
Tell 'em put the money in my hand right now (
Yes
)
Tell the promoter we need more seats
We just sold out all the floor seats
[Chorus 1: Estelle]
Take me on a trip, I'd like to go some day
Take me to New York, I'd love to see LA
I really want to come kick it with you
You'll be my American boy
[Verse 1: Estelle]
He said, "Hey, sister, it's really, really nice to meet ya"
I just met this 5-foot-7 guy who's just my type
Like the way he's speakin', his confidence is peakin'
Don't like his baggy jeans but I might like what's underneath them
And, no, I ain't been to MIA
I heard that Cali never rains
 
and New York's wide awake
First let's see the West End, I'll show you to my bredrin
I'm likin' this American boy, American boy
[Chorus 1: Estelle]
Take me on a trip, I'd like to go some day
Take me to New York, I'd love to see LA
I really want to come kick it with you
You'll be my American boy, American boy
[Post-Chorus]
La, la la, la la, eya
La, la la, la la, eya
La, la la, la la, eya
Will you be my American boy? American boy
[Verse 2: Estelle]
Can we get away this weekend? Take me to Broadway
Let's go shopping, maybe then we'll go to a café
Let's go on the subway, take me to your hood
I never been to Brooklyn and I'd like to see what's good
Dressed in all your fancy clothes
Sneakers lookin' fresh to death,
I'm lovin' those Shell Toes
Walkin' that walk, talk that slick talk
I'm likin' this American boy, American boy
[Chorus 1: Estelle]
Take me on a trip, I'd like to go some day
Take me to New York, I'd love to see LA
I really want to come kick it with you
You'll be my American boy
Tell 'em wah gwan, blud!
[Verse 3: Kanye West
with Estelle
]
Who killin' them in the UK?
Everybody gonna say, "You, K"
Reluctantly, 'cause most of this press don't fuck with me
Estelle once said to me, "
Cool down, down
Don't act a fool now, now.
"
I always act a fool
oww, oww
Ain't nothing new now, now
He crazy, I know what you thinkin'
Ribena, I know what you're drinkin'
Rap singer,
chain blinger
Holler at the next chick soon as you're blinkin'
What's your
persona about this Americana
 rhymer?
Am I shallow 'cause all my clothes designer? Uh
Dressed smart like a London bloke (
Yeah
)
Before he speak his suit bespoke (
Woop
)
And you thought he was cute before
Look at this pea coat, tell me he's broke (
Woo
)
And I know you ain't into all that
I heard your lyrics, I feel your spirit
But I still talk that
ca-a-ash
'Cause a lotta wags wanna hear it
And I'm feelin' like Mike at his baddest
Like The Pips at their gladdest
And I know they love it
So to hell with all that rubbish
[Bridge: Estelle]
Would you be my love, my love?
Would you be mine?
Would you be my love, my love?
Would you be mine?
Could you be my love, my love? (Ooh)
Would you be my American boy? American boy
[Chorus 2: Estelle]
Take me on a trip, I'd like to go some day (Ooh, someday)
Take me to Chicago, San Francisco Bay (I wanna see the Bay)
I really want to (You) come kick it with you (Ooh-ooh-ooh)
You'll be my American boy, American boy (Be my American boy)
[Chorus 1: Estelle]
Take me on a trip I'd like to go some day (I'd like to go some day)
Take me to New York, I'd love to see LA (See LA)
I really want to come kick it with you
You'll be my American boy, American boy
[Post-Chorus]
La, la la, la la, eya (La, la)
La, la la, la la, eya (Ooh, ooh)
La, la la, la la, eya
Will you be my American boy?