Artie Shaw

Many jazz artists as we know it are quite talented. Their talents are unique in that they can translate human emotion through singing or playing their instruments. Many have the ability to reach and touch people’s souls through their amazing gifts. Although this art of turning notes and lyrics into emotional imagery may somewhat come natural, the audience must wonder where their influence comes from. For Billie Holiday, her career was highly influenced by personal experience, the effects of the Great

soldiers fighting abroad and also lifted the spirits of their loved ones back at home. Many jazz musicians were soldiers, and several others traveled overseas or across the country to entertain U.S. troops. Among these performers were Bing Crosby, Artie Shaw, and Benny Carter. Jazz music was not only evident in American culture, but also in European countries, particularly in Nazi-occupied areas where it was a sign of rebellion. I want to further explore how the war affected the accessibility of jazz

David Sedaris writes about his experience taking guitar lessons in “Giant Dreams, Midget Abilities” after his father decided that he and his younger sisters should start a family music group. However, Sedaris has no desire to learn how to play guitar. His desire lies within singing jingles in the voice of Billie Holiday. Sedaris’ desire to sing in the voice of Billie Holiday is probably closely related to his sexual orientation, being gay, and his father’s passion for jazz music. There is an

The Jazz era was a time period in which the definition of music began to diverge; composers were able to express themselves in a sense that was soulful and vibrant, where any door of possibility became obtainable. “In The Mood” was a piece by Joe Garland composed in the 1930’s during the swing era. The iconic Jazz number had been arranged by many artists; however, it was not until Glenn Miller orchestrated this piece so perceptively that “In The Mood” became so well renowned. It was in 1939 when

The girl stood in front of a mirror. Her bleach blond hair hung in perfect formation, resting purposefully on her shoulders. She ran her hands consciously and unconsciously through the symmetrically set layers. " I want to be in Playboy." She was looking at her own reflection, but she was talking to me. I had heard her say this before so it wasn 't as much of a shock as it was an annoyance. "You 're crazy," I said with dismissal. We had this conversation so frequently that I had programmed my response

Mary watched the water dance and sparkle in the bright sun, it was a perfect summers day, the beach was crowded with sun lovers and the smell of sunscreen and barbeques floated in the air. She drew in a deep breath enjoying the salt tang of the sea, then focused her look back at the two little girls playing in front of her. They had all the serious concentration of four year olds as the dug a hole in the sand, then pouring water into it, giggling when it disappeared into the sand. Their brown curls

Chapter Four Mona held open the creaky wooden door as Emma stepped into the building. The walls were either painted a light green, which the lights picked up and reflected throughout the hall, or the florescent light cast the minty color over off-white walls. Either way, the space made Emma think of straightjackets and padded cells. The cold linoleum floor, however, resembled icepacks, soothing her road-beaten bare feet. The smooth surface felt like a pillow compared to the gravel and pebble-strewn

“I’ve assigned two officers to Dyanna Montarro’s home. I have three other squad cars stationed there for a time as well.” “Why not call in the National Guard too? I told you we should have taken her back for further questioning. And you know what the boss is going to say.” “What can he say?” Banks saw Nailon pull out a cigarette. Chuck tended to grab them during times of duress. It amazed her how someone as tough as Nailon felt he needed to smoke in stressful times. “C’mon,” he said

Life After Death: When Hardship Confronts Forever A soft hand of a patient slithers through a field of IV’s and other medical tubing until it finally reaches it’s destination - my hand. With prolonged tenderness, a thumb caressed my hand, making small circles in a caring manner as an expression of human empathy. As her cracked lips pivoted skyward, she closed her eyes and returned to her placid state where she thought of her son, and how much time she would have left with him. The only thing that

As the young woman clung to the picture a single tear rolled down her cheek. She could not believe that it had been 363 days, 4 hours and 7 minutes since the day. As she walked downstairs and plopped down on the couch covered with dust, she smelled the sharp stench of alcohol. Of course, her mom had her morning 5 shots of vodka mixed with, you don’t even want to know. She heads outside, the car keys bouncing. She needed help, she knew it. No amount of support groups or friends could take away her