I'm writing a paper about Mary Lou Williams. She was a jazz pianist. She was performing in the 1930's, through her death in the 70's. She had a fascinating life. She performed from the time she was a very young girl, and toured around with Vaudeville troupes, not realizing the danger she was in, a young black girl in a white man's world (or a black man's, for that matter). She became a very well respected pianist, composer, and arranger. I'm just learning about her; I wish I had started on this paper sooner.
Anyway, one of my methods in doing research is just to open up my book and type everything that looks meaningful, and then I can cut and paste whatever is useful to me later as I'm going along, so I read as I type. I was reading about the end of her life. I guess she died of cancer. I'm typing along, and find my fingers saying, "she died of concert." Talk about a Freudian slip. I hope I don't die of concert. Or cancer, for that matter. LOL.
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I can think of some concerts that almost killed me!
ReplyDeleteI can think of some of YOUR concerts that almost killed me!! Not your playing, per se, just the playing of the outlandish accompaniments.
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